“So, Rarity, can you show me how the radio works some time?” Twilight asks as the two unicorns and Spike share an early dinner. “There’s absolutely nothing like it in the rest of Equestria, and I’d just love to know more about it. Actually, it’s really fascinating seeing how a community developed without the use of magic. You managed to turn coal into electricity, and your explanations for systems that don’t involve magic is… well, some of them actually sound plausible.”
Rarity smiles and clears her throat. “While your enthusiasm is just delightful, I’d like to remind you that the reason we do everything without magic is because it doesn’t exist. It’s not as if we chose to ignore it, although I do hope the rest of Equestria follows our enlightened example and eschews the cult of superstition that they’ve been indoctrinated in to. Hopefully, your letters to your… friend will prove informative to them.”
“Oh, they definitely are,” Twilight says between bites of her daisy sandwich. She’s actually checking her libraries looking for any reference to your town. It looks like Pony Vale is quite the enigma, and I’m sure you’ll have lots to tell the outside world when they finally find you. Why, I bet the things you know could fill up a book. You created Equestria’s first radio station in a time when the rest of the world relies on pegasus relays for rapid communication.”
“You are too kind, Twilight,” Rarity says, blushing. “I’m afraid I’m nothing special though, just a mare who had a dream implanted in her by the Founder.”
“Yeah, actually, I was kind of curious about that,” Spike says, finishing off his gemstone salad. “You keep talking about the town’s founder, but I haven’t seen her yet. Is she alive, dead, what?”
Rarity’s expression goes flat and she regards Spike with complete detachment. “That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons pass, even death may die.”
“Uhh… what?” Twilight asks, frowning at her friend. Over the past few weeks, such displays have lost their shock, but her nature still compels her to dig deeper.
“I’m sorry, dear, did I say something?” Rarity asks, shaking off the malaise that befell her. “I’m afraid I just ‘spaced out’ for a minute, as they say.”
“Right,” Spike says, pushing his now empty bowl of gems. “I’ll just file this away as Creepy Pony Vale Mystery #238. Why aren’t we taking our chances in the Everfree again?”
Twilight giggles, a noise that strikes her assistant as unnatural. It wasn’t something she did until she came to this town and had those marks etched on her horn. Was she sure they didn’t mess with her head? “Spike! This town is fascinating, and there’s just so much I can learn here. Why would I want to leave until I’ve learned everything I can?” She glares in the general direction of where she thinks Ponyville should be. “Besides, even if we could get out of here, I don’t want to deal with her. Celestia still doesn’t believe I’m the real Twilight, even after everything I told her.”
“Well, at least she’s trying to find you,” Spike says. “She said she has ponies flying all over the Everfree Forest.”
“But we haven’t seen anything,” Twilight says, rolling her eyes. “It’s been three weeks and there’s been nothing, no sign of the outside world at all. You’d think if they were actually looking for us, we’d have seen something by now.”
“Yeah,” Spike says, frowning at Twilight. Was she always this temperamental? Was he just imagining things? “Maybe, but I don’t think this place plays by the same rules as everywhere else.”
Twilight sighs and glances at Rarity. “You’re probably right, Spike,” she says, rubbing her forehead. “But it’s not like this place is bad. There’s… it has mysteries, but that’s what makes it so interesting. In fact, I think it’s the most interesting town I’ve ever been to.”
Spike rolls his eyes. “Right. You’ve only been to two towns though, and you were at one of them for like… a day. You don’t really have a lot of experience–”
He’s interrupted as Rarity suddenly gets to her hooves. “I’m so sorry, dears, but I’m afraid I must get ready for the show. Will you be fine on your own?”
Twilight nods. “I have a few things I wanted to get done in town while you were doing the broadcast. I’m guessing all the stores are close to their Ponyville counterparts?”
“You’d know more about that than I would,” Rarity says as her bloodstone door rolls open and Lyra walks into the building. “Just try not to go near Sweet Apple Acres today.”
“Got it,” Twilight says as she heads out the door. “Any reason why?”
Rarity smiles at her as she follows Lyra up the stairs. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll hear about it on the news today.”
“Great,” Twilight mumbles. “I can’t wait to hear you talk about how adorable I am.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rarity says, stopping her climb and turning to look back at the door. “I do try to contain myself, but you’re simply so adorable it’s hard to contain myself. I will try to be better about that today, though.”
“I guess I’ll take it,” Twilight says, flashing Rarity a brief smile as the bloodstone door rolls closed. “Oh, and promise me we’ll talk about how the radio works sometime? I’d really love to work the control board if Lyra can’t make it.” Her eyes sparkle. “Maybe you can give her a day off to spend with Bon-Bon.”
Before either Rarity or Lyra can respond to her, the bloodstone door slides shut, leaving Rarity and Lyra to stare at each other. “Well,” Rarity says, turning to Lyra. “I’d be amenable to such an arrangement, if you are. How long has it been since you last had a personal day?”
“Too long,” Lyra groans, “and a day with Bon-Bon would be fun. I mean, I’d be up for a day off, just as long as your marefriend doing my job doesn’t become a permanent thing.”
“She is not my marefriend,” Rarity scoffs as she enters the broadcast room. “Merely a roommate who I’m… quite fond of.”
“Uh-huh,” Lyra says as she takes her spot in the control booth. “You know the contents of your radio broadcast aren’t exactly secret, right?”
“Well,” Rarity scoffs, “it’s not as if I can be blamed for noticing her perfect body and mane… and teeth… and–”
“I get it,” Lyra says, flipping several switches with her horn’s energy. “Whenever you’re ready, by the way.”
Rarity smiles and leans close to the microphone. “A friendly voice calls you into a dark void. Welcome to Pony Vale.”
***
Hello, listeners. Today marks the start of applebuck season, and you know what that means, right? We’re just a few days away from those delicious Apple Family apples. Ponies wishing to help in the annual harvest should head to their orchards as quickly as possible. If you get lost, just follow the sound of disembodied screaming. You can’t go wrong. Those of you who value your lives over first pick of the Apple Family’s delicious apples are encouraged to stay inside today. Rampaging apple trees are no joking matter.
In related news, with the town’s harvest coming up, it’s time we talked about sacrifice. It is such an important facet of our community that’s regularly ignored. Our town thrives on sacrifice, most importantly, your sacrifice. Remember to head to the altar at Jubilee Park, cut your left forehoof with the ritual knife, and make an offering to quell the rampaging trees as soon as you can. If you don’t, the weather team will be visiting you and encouraging you to make a larger donation. Remember, either pay a little now or pay a lot later.
Speaking of donations, the station would like to commend the ponies that donated so much last year. If you see a soulless husk wandering our town’s streets, dead to the pleasures of the physical world, be sure to give them your thanks. Their sacrifice allows us to have such delicious apples. Mhmm, apples.
Some good news for the ponies in town that are just looking for a shady place to sit: The mysterious rift in reality that appeared above our town three weeks ago is growing. In just a few weeks, it’s managed to double in size, to the delight of everypony seeking its shadow. The nature of the rift and just why it appeared above our town remains a mystery, constantly tugging at the back of my mind, but I’m sure nopony’s going to complain about the free shade.
Hmm… listeners, I am receiving an interesting development. The clock beneath the statue of the town founder has started to move. It’s hands move slowly, but they are moving, inexorably making their around the face of the clock. What happens when they complete the circuit, I don’t know, but they are moving. After a thousand years, they are moving, and my gut tells me something will happen when the clock strikes midnight.
I have good news: The weather team is recruiting. All pegasi who aren’t affiliated with the weather team are invited to try-out at their bunker out by the edge of town. Rainbow Dash made a point of extending the invitation to Fluttershy, out near the Everfree. Rainbow Dash said she would love it if Fluttershy could fly to the bunker without the escort of the winged unicorns who have taken up residence in her cottage. Winged unicorns are not invited to try out for the weather team. Winged unicorns are not allowed in town. We are not even supposed to acknowledge the existence of winged unicorns due to their similarity to alicorns, which obviously do not exist.
Remember, if you’re a pegasus and not already a part of the weather team, why aren’t you already a part of the weather team? As of today, all pegasi are required to join, or at least try out for, the weather team, and you don’t want to be found in violation of a town ordinance, do you? No. No, you don’t.
Fluttershy, I know you’re listening out there, and if you aren’t, then certainly, one of your… winged unicorn friends is. Please listen carefully to what I’m saying: You shouldn’t hide in your cottage under the protection of your guests, and if you have to go out to town for any reason, you definitely shouldn’t travel with an escort of two winged unicorns. After all, the weather team just wants what’s best for you. Also, should I bring chips and hummus or a fruit bowl to our next get together? Just send one of your roommates to… the usual place with the answer.
On the topic of the weather team, I have a public service announcement: Face stealers. They are out there, constantly trying to infiltrate our society, and they could be anywhere. Has a loved one been acting strange lately? Perhaps discussing forbidden topics they should know better than to speak of in polite company? Have they been putting more sugar in their tea than usual, lately? Less? Maybe they’ve switched from tea to coffee entirely? Remember, even the slightest deviation from routine could be a sign that your loved one was replaced by a face stealer. Don’t take chances. Report them to the weather team immediately. If they learn you reported them to the weather team and grow upset, then they’re definitely a face stealer and should be burned as quickly as possible. Also, remember to keep your face-stealer incinerator fueled at all times. We don’t want to be caught unprepared by the face stealing menace.
Listeners! A distressing update, my roommate Twilight Sparkle, with her perfectly teeth and mane has been spotted leaving Barber Groomsby’s with a manecut. The barber… no, the butcher has hacked away at her long, beautiful, indescribable mane, leaving something short, ugly, and completely unstyled in its place. How could a stallion living in this civilized time to something so barbaric? How could he so callously destroy something that brings pleasure to so many ponies? How can you dare look at yourself in the mirror after cutting something so beautiful to pieces? How could you, Barber Groomsby?
Now, you know I’m not mare to incite acts of violence against somepony, but if a vigilante fueled by righteous rage wished to bring some sort of retribution down upon Barber Groomsby’s head… Could anypony here blame them? Has there ever been a more deserving target of such an action? Have our principles of love and tolerance ever been so sorely tested? I certainly can’t think of an example, and would like to tell any vigilantes out there that I wouldn’t blame you. Not. At. All. Have you seen Twilight’s new manecut? It’s absolutely dreadful.
In brighter news, a group of enraged trees have escaped from the Applebucking Grounds and are heading towards town, presumably to enact a bloodthirsty rampage. If you’re out on the town’s streets, please head inside where the wards can protect you. If you’re feeling brave, feel free to attempt bucking the trees into submission, and remember to avoid their deadly roots and limbs. Bucking the trees in the nose is the fastest way to subdue them, just remember to avoid their ever-hungering mouths. The trees will not hesitate to devour you, so you must not show fear or hesitation. I will keep you updated as the story develops.
Do you remember that haunting wailing that started in the scrublands a few weeks ago? The one some listeners swore was calling to them and compelling them to do unspeakable things? Well, there is now a withered old mare standing on the border of town, staring at us all with black eyes that devour worlds. She points at us all with a withered hoof as she recites the litany of our sins in alphabetical order, while simultaneously making the low wail that fills the southern half of our town. I do not know what will happen when she finishes her recitation, but my heart is filled with fear and trepidation. Also, I heard what you did at my sister’s birthday, Twist. How could you?
The secret lab miles beneath our town has issued a statement that, “At 4:37 this morning, we managed to successfully test a large fusion device under the town. The device performed better than anticipated, and we expect to successfully deploy it in the war against the crown in the next decade. We merely await the town council to give us the final go ahead, and they can contact us in… the usual way. We apologize for any disturbance the test might have caused.”
Well, listeners, isn’t that a relief? When I woke up this morning to find the ground violently shaking, I feared our town was experiencing an earthquake, but it turns out the secret lab was just testing a perfectly harmless fusion device. You see, listeners, our fears usually have a reasonable harmless explanation..
Now, a word from our sponsors:
[A cheerful upbeat voice speaks]
Cupcakes.
[Several seconds of silence]
Succinct. Hmm,.. I swear the initial message was a lot longer, but maybe it’s my memory that’s in error. Certainly nothing to worry about. There is absolutely nothing for any of us to worry about… Except for the tree monsters rampaging through town, I suppose, but that’s hardly anything unusual, just another one of our town’s little annual hassles.
[Several seconds of dead air as a static buzz takes over the station]
Listeners, the mayor is announcing an emergency press conference to discuss today’s troubling events. She is stepping up to the podium and leading us in the town’s anthem…
[A minute and a half of shrieking]
The anthem has concluded, and she is making her announcement. Her mouth has wrenched itself open, and she speaks without moving her mouth. “Citizens of Pony Vale, I wish to speak with you about today’s troubling event. Please, rest assured that the town council is investigating just why the clock on the statue of the city founder has moved. This incident is troubling to everypony in town, and I want you to know we take your concerns seriously. If anypony finds an ancient prediction speaking of the Founder’s return or the unravelling of all things, please ignore its contents and bring it to town hall immediately so the item can be disposed of. Are there any questions?”
A light-blue mare… Truth Seeker, of the Pony Vale Gazette, is raising a hoof and asking if this has anything to do with the rift in reality that recently appeared above our town.
The mayor is staring at Truth Seeker with cold eyes and starting to shake violently. She is gnashing her teeth violently, and blood, spit, and foam are frothing from her mouth as she bashes her head against the solid wood podium, and… Ah! Locusts are now flying from Mayor Mare’s mouth, which means she has no comment on the issue. You know, it really is remarkable how amazing an orator our mayor is. Who but her can adequately summarise such complicated issues?
An aide is cleaning the mayor up now that she has regained her composure and asking for another question. Wait… No, the aide’s eyes have gone wide, and he is pulling the mayor back to the town hall. Several reporters are turning see what the aide saw, and… the angry orchard is coming towards the press ponies. They have them…
[Ponies scream in the background]
The press ponies have been surrounded, the trees are wrapping their branches around them, and… they are squeezing, listeners. No, not just squeezing, the apple trees are pulling them apart. One pony has been split in half by the pressure applied to his midsection, but… Truth Seeker is leading a resistance. She has bucked one of the trees directly in the nose and stunned it. Several other ponies are managing to hold off the rampaging trees, and… One of the trees is anointing himself in the blood of a slain pony. The tree’s limbs are slowing, and it is taking root right in the middle of the emergency press conference area. Isn’t this going to be a hassle? Now, we’re going to have to chop the tree down, change the emergency press conference area, or wait until next harvest for the tree to move.
Oh, excuse me, listeners, while I was talking, it seems the entire Pony Vale press corp was slaughtered, and the trees are preparing to anoint themselves. Listeners, I cannot emphasize how terrible this news is, the town council is worried about what’s making the clock on the statue of the town founder move. The town council is never worried. They are our brave fearless leaders, tasked with leading us through the troubles that… occasionally befall our town, and to know that they’re scared is troubling news indeed–
[She’s interrupted as the pop of magic energy can be heard in the studio]
Listeners, the charming and beautiful Twilight Sparkle has just materialized in the broadcast room, and she is furious. Also, now that I have a better look at it, the new manecut isn’that terrible, it accentuates a certain softness and bookishness in her, and–
Rarity!
It seems I am being called away to have a discussion with my roommate, and… I don’t think she’s willing to wait until the news is over, so until I can return, the weather.
***
“You know I hate it when you interrupt my broadcasts, right?” Rarity asks as Lyra switches on the music.
“And I hate it when you see a dozen ponies get brutally murdered and don’t even bother to react,” Twilight yells. “Just… how could you be more concerned with a press conference than the fact that all the press ponies were killed by marauding trees? Also, what kind of warning is ‘don’t go near Sweet Apple Acres’ when half the town is fighting an angry orchard?”
“Well, first of all,” Rarity says, giving Twilight a small smile. “The trees were never supposed to escape the farm, I assumed you would be perfectly safe going out to explore the town. Second of all, the Pony Vale press corp dies almost every time we have an emergency press conference. We don’t even have to hire replacements, the mayor just announces a press conference, twelve ponies show up, something goes wrong, and they die. I’m… a part of me thinks the press corp doesn’t actually die.”
“It’s true,” Lyra says from behind her booth. “Nopony in the press corp has ever had a funeral. Sure, ponies in the press corp die all the time, but I’ve never seen one of them be buried. Of course, I’ve never seen one of them come back to life either, so… I’m not sure, either way.”
“Are you saying you have immortal ponies in this town?” Twilight asks, her eyes wide. “That they just… die, respawn, and die again?”
Rarity laughs and shakes her head. “Of course not, Twilight, that would just be… absurd. However, I’m not arguing against it either. Merely pointing out that… a lot of ponies die in this town, but the population never seems to dip.” She looks between Twilight and Lyra. “And speaking of… peculiarities in the town’s population, have you seen the doubles too?”
Lyra nods her head while Twilight’s frown just deepens. “Doubles?”
“Yes, if you’re ever in a crowd, look at the periphery of your vision. You can’t look directly at them, but if you’re careful, you can see them, duplicates of other ponies. Why, I was walking through the market just the other day and I swear I saw three Lyra’s,” Rarity says, looking at her friend.
“It’s true,” Lyra says, glancing at Twilight. “There’s probably another me just… wandering the streets of Pony Vale right now, filling up the background as long as you don’t look too closely at her.”
“And I’m guessing…” Twilight sighs. “Why do I already believe you? Your claim is completely crazy, but… this is Pony Vale, completely crazy is the norm here, right?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Rarity says, frowning. “Our town just has a few… peculiarities. Eccentricities that set it apart from other towns. Really, I like to think we’re just your normal Equestrian town.”
“Uh-huh,” Twilight says, slowly nodding her head. “I’m sure you do. So, what are we going to do about the killer trees?”
Rarity tilts her head. “Them? Nothing, I would imagine. Those that can still move will be corralled back into the orchard, and the rest will stay where they rooted. Oh! Twilight, we really must go to Jubilee Park to make our blood oaths after the show’s over. Without them… Well, we don’t want to get on Rainbow Dash’s badside.”
Twilight groans and mutters to herself. “Everypony in this town is crazy.”
***
Well, listeners, our tree situation is now under control. The former emergency press conference area is now a forested park we can all enjoy, and I think we should turn it into a memorial park for the members of the Pony Vale press conference, trapped in a seemingly endless cycle of death and rebirth. But then, aren’t we all? Are we just a single entity, springing forth from nothingness before fading back into oblivion, or are we a part of something larger? Are our deaths just the beginning of another cycle? Not the end of the book as so many believe, but merely the end of the chapter.
I think our new garden is the perfect place to contemplate our roles in life’s grand sweeping narrative and the roles of the ponies that fill our lives. We will seek shade under the trees that will wake up in a year and try to murder us, they will anoint themselves in our blood sacrifices, and we will taste of their juicy ripe red apples. We are all connected, citizens, permanently bound to the world around us in a narrative far greater than any individual. Our deaths are not the end of the story, simply an exit for one character so another might take their place. I’d suggest everypony think about that as we enjoy those delicious Apple Family Apples this year.
Stay tuned for this broadcast played in reverse. Can you spot all the hidden messages? Good night, Pony Vale. Good night.