“Alright, ladies,” Rainbow Dash said. Dressed in her black suit and tie, she moved with obvious stiffness as she passed sheets of paper to each member of the band. “A bit late, but I have our set list for this show. Any questions about it?”

Ditzy Doo’s stomach sank as she looked over the list. I don’t recognize half of these songs, she thought, and I can’t play the ones I do recognize.

She looked around the dressing room at her bandmates, hoping to find somepony else who shared her unease. Most of them were otherwise occupied. Cloudchaser was fiddling with the reed on her alto saxophone. Carrot Top adjusted her tie then smiled at Dinky Doo, who telekinetically twirled five drumsticks in the air. Only Twilight Sparkle met Ditzy’s gaze, and only briefly. She shrugged, then went back to polishing her already spotless-trumpet.

Dash paced as she continued, “There’s gonna be record industry big shots in the audience, and you know how bad their attention spans are. Either we wow them with our first two songs, or we lose them forever. So that’s why I put ‘Mare from Iponyma’ and ‘Average Day’ first in our set.”

Ditzy looked back at the list, which had somehow unfurled like a scroll to reveal even more songs, whose names she couldn’t even read.

Dash adjusted the strap holding her electric harp to her chest. “So! Derpy, Twilight, Cloudchaser, and Derpy, we’re all counting on you to bring your A-game to your horn solos. Especially you, Derpy.”

Ditzy gulped and looked down at the tenor saxophone in her forehooves. Is this thing even in tune? she thought. Why, oh why did I miss every single practice session? In fact, how did I miss every single practice session?

“Hey, ladies!” Fluttershy said. She stood in the doorway, holding a clipboard under her wing. “They’re ready for you on stage. Chop chop!”

The Morning After the World’s Last Night: The Filly with the Moon in Her Head
or
The Bubblemaker’s Dream
or
A Message from Another Time
or
Eternal Snarkness
or
Back in the Saddlebag
or
Muffindependence Day
or
Fridge Benefits
or
I Hope You Liked Memento

Ditzy trotted down the street, back to her house. She continued offering her unique greeting to anypony who spoke to her or gawked at her, but fewer ponies were surprised to see her now. Word had apparently traveled quickly. Ditzy’s bag of money was somewhat lighter than before, and her bag of muffins was much lighter. Still, her gait was fast, and her spirits were high.

What a morning! she thought. She glanced at the clock tower. I got more done before eight than most ponies get done by … ten-thirty, at least. Wait a second … She looked again at the clock. “Ohmigosh I’m gonna be late!”

She took to the air and flew for weather patrol’s meeting cloud with all possible haste.

She landed on the cloud with all possible haste, tripping and rolling to a stop. After her head stopped spinning, she recognized two voices nearby.

The second was Rainbow Dash. “I said, I’m not asking you to stick around for months on end, just until I can find her replacement.”

Ditzy looked to every side but couldn’t find either of them. She looked up, and realized they were on the smaller cloud directly overhead.

“I didn’t hear it,” Dash said. “Anyway, if I speed up the process, it’ll take a week, two weeks at the most, to find a new weatherpony. Then another week to train them. Can you at least stick around that long?”

Dash continued, “Have you seen the schedule for this month? It’ll be bad enough doing that while we’re one pony short. But two ponies gone? I can’t ask the rest of the team to pull that kind of load!”

Ditzy poked her head through the cloud. “Two ponies gone?” she said. “Who’s leaving?”

Cloudchaser boggled at Ditzy. Dash, however, barely glanced at her. “You read about what happened to Derpy in the paper, right?” she said. “And I’m trying to show Cloudchaser that it’s a bad idea to—” With a sudden jerk, she looked straight at Ditzy, her mouth hanging open.

Ditzy wriggled forward, until her forelegs and wings were through the hole. “I’m not late, am I?”

Cloudchaser smiled. “Good to see you’re okay, Derpy. Rainbow Dash, I take it there’s no longer a problem with my resigning now?”

“Oh, you’re leaving, Cloudchaser?” Ditzy pulled her rear through the hole and stood up. “Hey, Dash, do you need somepony to cover for her? Like, this Wednesday, maybe?”

“Oh, that.” Ditzy patted Rainbow Dash’s head. “You can’t believe everything you read in the papers, Dashy.” She stepped back and looked around. “Hey, where’s the rest of the team? I brought muffins for everypony!”

“Alright!” Dash said. “Time to show ’em what we got!” She rushed out the door, and four of her bandmates followed, their instruments in tow. Ditzy, however, remained in place.

Fluttershy fixed her gaze on Ditzy. “Don’t keep them waiting, Derpy. You won’t like them when they’ve been waiting.”

Ditzy opened her mouth to protest, to state emphatically that no power in Equestria could make her get up on that stage, but her throat went dry. No sound came out.

She blinked, and suddenly bright, multicolored lights shone into her eyes from overhead. The wood floor creaked beneath her feet. Twilight and Cloudchaser jostled her from each side, and a single microphone stood in front of her.

Ditzy would have wondered how, exactly, she wound up on the stage, but a silver glint distracted her. In vain, she looked into the audience for the glint’s source. Thanks to the bright stage lights in her own eyes, and the dim lights on the rest of the theater, the audience was an indistinct mass of shadows.

She sighed and looked down at the floor, then noticed that her forelegs were completely bare. A glance at her own backside confirmed that she wasn’t wearing anything, and a glance around the stage confirmed that everypony else in the band wore matching black suits and ties. Oh, horsefeathers! she thought. How did I forget my suit? Why didn’t anypony tell me?

The stage lights cut out, plunging most of the band into darkness. Only Carrot Top and Dinky Doo remained in light as they launched into their pre-song banter.

“Yes, daughter?” Carrot Top answered, in the most patronizing tone she could muster.

“What does regret mean?” Dinky stood on her seat and leaned forward, and still she could barely see over the top of the drum kit.

“Well, daughter,” Carrot Top said, leaning against her bass, “the funny thing about regret is, that it’s better to regret something you have done, than to regret something you haven’t done. By the way, if you see your father this weekend—”

VERY WELL. THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH, THANK YOU.

Written Script stood in the front doorway of his house and scowled. “That is not our fridge.”

“It is now!” Ditzy declared, waving her hooves at the brand new refrigerator standing next to her. “And it’s even better than your old fridge! Look, look …” She opened the freezer door. “It’s got a built-in ice cube maker!” She opened the main door. “All the crisper drawers have separate, adjustable temperatures! And look at this space-saving design. The outer dimensions are exactly the same as your old fridge, but there’s so much more room in the interior! You might even say, it’s—”

Ditzy solemnly held a hoof over her heart. “Your fridge was a true hero. He bravely gave his life in the defense of Equestria.” She stepped forward to place her hoof on Written Script’s shoulder. “His sacrifice was not in vain, and we will always—”

“I think I know what’ll cheer you up …” With her free forehoof, Ditzy waved a raspberry muffin in front of his nose.

“I don’t care any more. I don’t care!” He looked at Ditzy. “When Carrot gets back and wonders what the hay happened to the old fridge, I’m telling her to ask you. Got that?”

Ditzy nodded and continued waving the muffin in front of Written Script’s face.

THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE.

Ditzy felt and saw the voice more than she heard it. Every bone in her body rattled with its words. The audience and the theater building also shook—then they rippled, like an image on a waving tapestry.

At the center of the rippling, the silver gleam reappeared. This time, it persisted and grew larger. As it expanded, it gained patches so black that the shadows of the theater looked like a sunny afternoon in comparison.

DETSELLA RENOMBRADA MORNINGDEW, WE HAVE MUCH TO DISCUSS.

The shape continued growing, or perhaps it moved towards Ditzy. It was difficult to tell. On the one hoof, the figure was now large enough that Ditzy recognized it as the silhouette of a tall, slim pony. On the other hoof, as the pony walked towards Ditzy, the silver and black pattern did not move with her.

MISS MORNINGDEW? ARE YOU WELL?

However, the pattern was not strictly stationary. The pattern was, in fact, a mass of clockwork, all polished to a silvery shine. Some gears turned slowly, while others spun at dizzying velocities. And in the spaces between the pieces, the night sky was visible. It was a deeper and darker shade than Ditzy had ever seen before. The stars—clusters of cold pinpricks—only made the rest of the sky seem blacker by comparison.

MISS MORNINGDEW! SAY SOMETHING!

It dawned on Ditzy that the open mouth was hers. Even so, she didn’t see any point closing it.

The clockwork and the night sky filled her entire field of vision. Even when she looked down, she couldn’t see her own snout, just the endless expanse of gleaming metal and inky darkness. The wheels, pinions, axles, and more exotic pieces were oriented in every dimension—joining and intersecting each other in ways that defied Ditzy’s understanding. A mortal clockmaker would have suffered an aneurysm trying to decipher this mechanism.

And behind the clockwork, the stars were moving. They rearranged into lines and arcs. They were forming an image, and Ditzy could almost make out the subject …

The silver gears and the black sky were completely gone. Sensations from Ditzy’s limbs flooded into her mind, which was slightly worrying; she hadn’t noticed when she had stopped feeling her limbs. Ditzy closed her mouth and realized something sticky was on her forehead.

Now that the voice lacked its bone-rattling, reality-shaking undertones, Ditzy could almost recognize it. She had heard that voice once or twice before, but she couldn’t remember where. In any case, the notepaper taped to her face was a much more pressing concern. She reached up, but another pony’s hoof stopped her.

“Nay,” the voice said. “First, we must find some means by which thou … by which you may look upon me without that happening again.”

“Aha! Now, Miss Morningdew, you may uncover your eyes. But look upon me only through the mirror.”

A mare, walking in the street, stared as Ditzy approached. She opened her mouth, but Ditzy spoke before she could. “Morning, Minuette! Have a muffin!” She threw an apple muffin at Minuette.

“Hiya, Derpy Doo!” Pinkie Pie interrupted. She pronked alongside Ditzy, easily keeping pace. “Do you have anything with sprinkles?”

Ditzy rooted through the bag. “No, but I have one with brown sugar. Here you go!”

Pinkie caught the muffin with her mouth and ate it in a single bite. “Thanks! Merry Muffin Monday, Derpy Doo!”

As Pinkie bounced away, Ditzy shook her head. She turned onto a different street and called out, “Morning, Alternating Current! Have a ohmigosh refrigerators are on sale?!” She abruptly halted outside the shop.

Ditzy removed the notepaper from her face, crumpled it, and tossed it aside. Before her stood half a mirror—a twelve-feet-tall replica of the half that she left on that alien planet. Reflected in it, the other pony towered behind Ditzy. Her wings were folded at her side, her horn was held high, and her silver jewelry gleamed under the stage lights.

With the arrival of the Princess of the Night, the surroundings had also transformed. Aside from her and Ditzy, the theater was completely deserted. Every lamp in the house was brightly lit, banishing all darkness from sight—save for Luna’s coat.

Luna spoke. “Detsella Renombrada Morningdew, I have read a most interesting tale of your recent adventure. Now, I am curious to hear your account of those events.”

Luna’s face remained impassive, but her voice softened slightly. “Yes. I suppose your full name is a bit of mouthful. Very well, Ditzy Doo, daughter of LaMonte Doo and Loop-de-Loop.”

Ditzy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “But I have to say, Your Highness, you’re the first pony I’ve met outside my family to pronounce ‘Detsella’ right on the first try. That’s impressive.”

Ditzy stepped out of the bakery and found she was not alone. A small crowd had formed around the door while it was locked. She took a step forward, and they all stepped back. Some of of the ponies gulped or wore nervous expressions, and others looked confused or curious—but all of their eyes were focused on Ditzy. Still quite giddy from her breakfast, Ditzy’s first thought was not about the quickest way to escape the crowd. Her first thought was, What would Carrot Top do?

She set her bag on the ground, then sat on her haunches, raised her forehooves, and proclaimed to the crowd, “I am the Ghost of Muffins Past!”

The crowd was silent for several seconds before Sassaflash, in the back, spoke up. “Muffins?”

“Bingo! Got it in one. Have a muffin!” Ditzy pulled a bran muffin out of the bag and threw it directly at the mare. She reached into the bag and pulled out another. “Alright! Now who wants a banana nut muffin?” A few ponies raised hooves, and Ditzy threw the muffin at the nearest one. “Bam! Who wants an orange cranberry? Bam! Who wants a Morning Glory? Bam! This one’s got zucchini. Who wants it? Bam!”

By this point, everypony in the crowd either had a muffin or had walked away, shaking their heads as they went.

Ditzy again raised her forehooves. “Remember this day, everypony! Henceforth, it shall be known as Muffin Monday!”

“Henceforth,” Ditzy continued, “you shall observe Muffin Monday on the first Thursday of every August! You shall commemorate it … with a minute of solemn silence for reflection on the fragility of life. And then, muffins!”

Ditzy lifted into the air. “Farewell, my brothers and sisters! May the blessings of Muffin Monday be upon you all!” She took off down the street with her bag—still mostly full—in tow.

“... When I looked at the Town Hall blueprints, I thought I recognized the basic design. The same proportions as one of the old, forbidden temples.”

Ditzy and Princess Luna were no longer in a theater. They stood on lush turfgrass, surrounded by meticulously trimmed hedges. A dim childhood memory told Ditzy that this was the Canterlot Royal Garden. The half-mirror, at least, remained the same.

She continued, “That was when I suspected that the Eyeless King was being summoned. So I fact-checked by asking Twilight Sparkle—”

Luna interrupted. “How, precisely, did you know about Ystravilim? The Eyeless King, as you call him.”

“The Eyeless King, the forbidden temples, the Scarlet Ceremony—long ago, my sister and I sealed all accounts of them. We believed that the average pony was better off remaining ignorant of such horrors. So how did you learn of them? Did you break into the top secret Canterlot archive? Do you know somepony who did?”

“That’s enough for me,” Luna said, raising a hoof. “Somepony else wishes to know exactly how you learned. You can explain in detail to her.”

The bell above the doorway jangled merrily, and the sweet aroma of countless pastries filled Ditzy’s nostrils as she entered The Muffin Emporium. The only other customers were Lily Valley and Roseluck, sitting in a far corner booth. They stopped eating to stare at Ditzy.

“Good mornin’, good mornin’,” Drury Lane called as he rushed from the back kitchen to the front counter. “Welcome to … Ditzy Doo! You’re alright!”

Over in their booth, Rose and Lily resumed eating their muffins, while pretending—very poorly pretending—that they weren’t watching Ditzy.

Ditzy scanned the freshly-baked bounty. “Actually,” she said, “I think I’m in the mood for something else.” With one hoof, she tapped the side of her nose. “You know, a different flavor.”

“Certainly!” Drury repeat the gesture, then lowered his voice. “But it will have to wait until those two are gone.”

“So, did you see that story about you in the paper this morning? How much of that’s true?”

“It’s a completely true story, but they got every single detail completely wrong.”

Drury raised an eyebrow at that. But before he could answer, Ditzy said, “Hold on a sec.”

Lily and Rose stood at the end of the counter, staring at Ditzy. As Ditzy turned their way, they dove behind the corner. Ditzy trotted over and peered around at them. Lily and Rose stared back, their eyes as large as dinner plates.

Smirking, Drury locked the door and swapped the “Open” sign for the “Come back later!” sign. He stepped back behind the counter and pulled a large, black-bound book from underneath. “Do you want to consult the tome,” he said, “or do you already have something in mind?”

Drury consulted the calendar on the back wall. “Let’s see, the last time you had one was … eight months ago, so you don’t need a doctor’s note. But you still have to sign the waiver ...”

He passed the bundle of forms to Ditzy. She flipped through them quickly. “Same as before, same as before, same as before. Hey, Drury?”

He was in the kitchen. “Oranges … chili powder … tofuroni … durian …”

“What kind of chef do you take me for? Of course I did! Ate some myself. Perfectly safe.”

A little over ten minutes later, the muffin sat cooling on the counter before Ditzy. She inhaled deeply. Most of the ingredients in this recipe she didn’t know, and the aroma she inhaled was like nothing else in this or any dimension.

Drury Lane raised his camera and nodded to Ditzy. She took her first bite, and the camera flashed as she chewed.

The muffin tasted like the satisfaction of a job—a completely unexpected job—well done. It tasted like a landscape painting that only uses the color blorange. It tasted like hearing one’s favorite song performed on an instrument that was invented five minutes ago.

Ditzy closed her eyes and moaned slightly. Drury, clutching the instant photograph in his teeth, shook it vigorously.

The muffin was gone, even its crumbs—Ditzy had licked the plate clean. She turned and smiled at Drury. He ignored her, instead staring at the photo in his hoof. Finally, he said, “Darn it!”

“What?” Ditzy said. “That’s not good enough? That muffin was amazing! It was even better than the last one you gave me!”

“I’ll know when the recipe’s good enough.” He scribbled a note on the back of the photo, then slipped it into an envelope between the pages of the black recipe book. “It’s close though. I just need to tweak it a bit. The ingredients are right—it all comes down to this proportion thing.”

“Well, when you finally do get it good enough, you’ll let me know, right?”

Ditzy glanced into her money bag, then back to Drury. “Oh, this is awkward.” She offered a single gem to the chef. “Do you have change for a sapphire?”

“Orrrrrr … you can keep that …” Ditzy tossed the sapphire to Drury, then swept her forehooves to encompass all the muffins on display behind the glass case. “... And put all of those in a big bag for me!”

“Not by our decree. But they vanished into the forests just as suddenly as they appeared in ponykind’s history. Few are alive who know that the fia sídhe were ever more than a legend.”

“Once or twice a year at the most. They think I’m some kind of prophet, or maybe a witch, so they ask my advice on political stuff.”

“Well, mostly I just empty my mind and then say the first thing that pops into my head. Because prophets have to be cryptic, you know. They interpret what I say however they like.”

“No! They decided I was a prophet without ever asking me. And I figured it was better to play along than to tell them they were wrong.”

A short while passed in silence as Luna scowled. Just as Ditzy considered resuming her story, Luna broke the silence. “Then what are the latest news from the sídhe? What have they most recently consulted you about?”

“Well, a few days ago, one of them asked if they should declare war on the Fur Bolg. But—”

“Yes. But last night, the young fia on the trail told me they were massing their armies to … to invade Equestria.”

“WHAT!?” Luna grabbed Ditzy’s shoulders, as if to turn the smaller pony around to face her. But instead, she took a few deep breaths and withdrew her forehooves. “Ditzy Doo,” she said, her teeth gritted and her voice low. “Are you quite certain of that?”

“I … I can’t know if my source was completely trustworthy, but I’m quite certain that’s what he told me.”

Luna waved one forehoof, and the surroundings transformed. On every side, seedlings sprouted and grew rapidly, their tips rising into the sky with the speed of missiles. Within seconds, they were full-grown trees. The lawn was now a forest so dense that its canopy blocked out the sky. The only light came from luminescent moss hanging from the branches.

The mirror ceased reflecting and became a window. Instead of her and Princess Luna’s faces, Ditzy saw a trail through the forest, and two figures on it. One was an adolescent fia wearing a drab green cloak, with a horsehead fiddle strapped to his back. The other was a gray pegasus wearing a saddlebag.

The gray pegasus said, “Verily, that is the wisest word thou hast spoken yet, fiddle player.”

“Yes, a son,” Ditzy answered. “And a spoiled brat. One who took up assaulting travellers because he was bored.”

Luna snorted and muttered something under her breath, something Ditzy couldn’t make out. “Shhh,” Ditzy said. “This is the important part.”

Éthuran lowered his head, pointing his antlers at the gray pegasus, and he spoke. “The Morrígan, soon-she-comes. Verily, almost here, she-is. Black the sky-will-be with her feathers, and blighted the land-will-be with her shadow. And the ponies of Equestria, dead or gone forever soon-they-be. When satisfied, the Morrígan-be, rulers of the land we-will-be.”

Surrounding the ruins of the Town Hall was a perimeter of barricades and police tape. This was maintained both by Ponyville’s police and by a platoon of the Royal Guard. Surrounding them was another perimeter, this one made of gawking ponies.

The crowd parted for Ditzy, giving her strange looks and murmuring in nervous voices as they did. Ignoring them, Ditzy approached the barricade. Deputy Fishen Chips faced her from the other side. As she drew close, he flared his wings and spoke. “Miss Doo? Can’t let you in here, ma’am.”

“I just need to talk to the Mayor. Can she come out here?” Ditzy leaned to look past the Deputy, and she saw Mayor Mare a couple hundred feet away, speaking with a Guard pony.

“Hey! Hey! Madame Mayor!” Ditzy lifted into the air and waved her hooves as she shouted. “Over here! I’ve got something that you’ll really want to hear!” She landed when the Mayor walked over.

Mayor Mare appeared to have aged five years since Ditzy saw her yesterday. There were lines on her face, bags under her eyes, and—strangest of all—faint pink streaks in her gray mane. With eyes half-lidded, she spoke. “Can we make this quick, Ditzy? I’m a little busy right now, for reasons that should be obvious.” She lifted her coffee mug and took a long sip.

“Yeah, about that,” Ditzy said. She held aloft her bag of gems. “I’d like to make a donation to help rebuild Town Hall.”

Deputy Chips’ lighting-fast reflexes were all that saved him from being drenched by a mouthful of Mayor Mare’s coffee.

The Mayor wiped off her mouth. Her eyes were now wide open, and in her alertness, she seemed to have grown younger by a few years. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Ditzy!” she said. “I appreciate that—Ponyville appreciates that, so much. There’s just one very simple form to fill out, and my secretary can help you with that. Now ... where did she go? Constable Peeler, have you seen Raven?”

As the Constable walked up, Deputy Chips saluted and flew away. “Morning, ladies,” Peeler said. “No, ma’am, I’m afraid I don’t know where Miss Raven is right now. But did I hear correctly that Miss Doo wanted to make some sort of donation?”

“Well …” The Constable scratched his chin. “Madame Mayor, didn’t you already accept monies from the Royal Treasury’s Disaster Rebuilding Fund? For the complete cost of the new building, in fact?”

“Oh! That’s right!” Mayor Mare slapped her forehead. “Ditzy Doo, Ponyville appreciates your generous gesture, but …” She gulped, then continued through gritted teeth. “We are legally unable to accept it at this time.”

Ditzy stared at him, and he just smiled back. Ditzy broke eye contact and said, “Oh, and about, uh, the last time we spoke, I’m sorry for deliberately grossing you out like that.”

“What do you ...” Peeler’s eyes widened. “Ooohhh. That. Hrm. To be honest, that completely slipped my mind. Consider it forgiven.”

“Thanks,” Ditzy said. Then her eyes widened, and she pointed somewhere past the Constable. “Oh my goodness what is that?!”

“What?!” Peeler whipped around and scanned in the direction Ditzy indicated.

As soon as his back was turned, Ditzy reached into her bag, pulled out a big emerald, and lobbed it towards Mayor Mare. When all four of her hooves were back on the ground, she spoke again. “Oh, nevermind.”

The emerald bounced off Mayor Mare’s head.

“I thought I saw somepony littering, but then he picked up his trash all on his own. So, false alarm.” Ditzy smiled.

Ditzy’s stomach rumbled, and she remembered she hadn’t eaten yet. “Gotta go! Thanks again, Constable!”

“... I stayed there until Constable Peeler dug me out. And then I explained everything to him and Dr. Hooves.”

Ditzy inhaled and watched for the Princess's reaction. Lost in her own thoughts, Luna scratched her chin and frowned slightly. Ditzy gulped and sat up straighter. The beach’s sand shifted under her weight.

The sky was dark and growing darker. A light purple patch on the horizon, over the ocean, marked where the sun had set. The waves that broke on the shore were a low roar in Ditzy’s ears. A rocky promontory jutted into the ocean and the crashing waves. On this point, a lighthouse stood tall, sweeping its beam in a lazy clockwise arc.

The Princess of the Night stood out from darkening sky—the stars in her mane cast an ethereal glow about her. Finally, she spoke. “Ditzy Doo, you have a remarkable ability. But what is your opinion of it? Do you consider it a gift or a curse?”

“Do you know the story of how I got my cutie mark? I guess you wouldn’t. I never told the real story to anypony besides my parents. Anyway, Mom and Dad were both in the Guard, so I wanted—”

“Yes,” Luna interrupted. “Lupita DeLopeza: fifteen years’ service in the Air Guard, including six years in the Wonderbolts. LaMontagne Burningspear Morningdew: twenty-seven years’ service in the Border Guard. Earned the Silver Laurel for his actions in the Battle of Sandbox Grove. Also ...”

She trailed off as she noticed the shocked expression on Ditzy’s face. “My apologies,” Luna said. “Continue your story.”

Ditzy shut her mouth and shook her head before continuing. “Well, I realized how important Mom and Dad’s jobs were. How the average pony can live a life of peace and stability thanks to those ponies who are willing and able to fight on their behalf. And I decided that I wanted to help, too. I wanted to join the Guard just like my parents.

“They humored me, of course, but ... Eventually I figured out that I’d never meet the standards to get into the Guard. Because of, you know …” Ditzy raised a hoof and pointed at her eyes. “Had this since I was born. Apparently it runs in Mom’s side of the family. Los ojos del caos, my grandma called it. … I’m getting off topic.

“I was in, hmm … third grade when I figured out that my dream was impossible. So I was pretty down for a few days. And that was when it happened.”

Grass sprouted from the ground beneath Ditzy and Princess Luna. Playground equipment replaced the nearest sand dunes. The schoolhouse—and beyond it, the buildings of Ponyville—rose out of the ocean. The rising moon transformed into the sun and zipped to the highest point of the sky. Instead of crashing surf, the shouts and laughter of children filled the air.

A gray, blank-flanked pegasus filly trotted towards the busy playground of the Ponyville schoolhouse.

“It was recess, and I was wondering whether to play on the see-saw, or to go jump rope with the other fillies. Then, a portal opened up. I saw some strange ponies on the other side of the portal, so I walked through to get a closer look at them.”

If anypony on the playground had been watching, they would have seen the filly step forward and disappear into thin air.

“But as soon as those strange ponies saw me, they got upset about something, and they pushed me back through. When I returned to the playground, I realized I wasn’t the only one who had come through the portal.”

The filly reappeared from nowhere, then stumbled and fell on her face. A frightened shout made her look up. A creature was in the middle of the playground, surrounded by a growing group of colts and fillies. The creature resembled a hermit crab the size of a an adult pony—but instead of a sea shell, he had on his back a discarded shade of blue.

None of the other children could see him, of course. However, they had no difficulty feeling him. One colt had run face-first into his side and was now bawling loudly. Others had tripped over the invisible creature’s legs and were now trying to feel it out. More children joined them by the minute, some to help and some just to gawk.

“Of course, the chromastacean was getting nervous. He was young and had stumbled out of his natural environment by accident, and now a bunch of colts and fillies were prodding him.”

The chromastacean turned, knocking over several children in the process. They shouted, and the ones watching from a distance shouted even louder.

“Maybe … maybe I’m remembering it worse than it really was. But at the time, I was certain that both sides were on the verge of panic. That someone was about to get hurt.”

The gray filly shoved her way through the crowd and trotted up to the creature. “Everypony, stand back!” she declared, with such certainty that the crowd silently obeyed. With effort, she lifted off the ground until she hovered at the chromastacean’s eye level. In a slightly lower voice, she sang the most calming song she knew:

The creature’s antennae flitted across the filly’s face, tickling her. “Hey,” she said, “you wanna get home, right? The way home’s right over there!” She pointed at the portal, still open.

“Oh, right, that won’t work,” she said. Gently, she grasped one antenna in her forehoof, then landed. “Follow me.” She trotted slowly to her left, around the creature, and he turned to keep facing her. At the same speed, she turned again and trotted away from the creature—leading him towards the portal. “Yes … yes … Keep coming! … Yes … Just a little bit farther … yes … Oh!”

The chromastacean finally sensed the portal and darted forward. The filly leaped out of his way at the last second and found herself again lying facedown in the ground. “You’re welcome!” she shouted as the creature disappeared through the portal.

She stood up and found the slack-jawed faces of her classmates staring at her. A nearby teal filly was the first to find her voice. “Derpy … what just happened?”

“Peace—even peace of mind—is a fragile thing in this world,” Ditzy said to Princess Luna. “No sturdier than a single wildflower, or a soap bubble. It can only survive if somepony protects it. And that day, I realized I didn’t need to join the Guard to do that. I could protect my fellow ponies in my own way.”

“Ummmmmm …” the pegasus filly continued. A flash of light played across her haunches. Its disappearance revealed that her fur now bore paired images: a cutie mark in the shape of seven bubbles. She didn’t notice. “That was … my act for the talent show next week! Yeah!”

Her audience was evenly split between baffled and incredulous. One of the incredulous ones, a red colt, answered, “What talent was that, then?”

The pegasus filly closed her eyes and put a hoof to her chest. “A true ventriloquist never reveals her secrets.”

Before they could exchange any more razor-sharp repartee, a bell rang to signal the end of recess. The filly galloped into the schoolhouse, away from her classmates.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique! Where ... everything is …” Rarity trailed off and gasped dramatically. “Derpy! You’re alive!”

“Yesshh …” Ditzy said, her voice muffled by the bag in her mouth. She dropped it before continuing. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Rarity levitated the morning edition of The Ponyville Express from a nearby counter to Ditzy’s hoof. The front page headline proclaimed:

TOWN HALL DEMOLISHED BY DEAD-OF-NIGHT DETONATION!
Ditzy Doo, Weather Worker, Deduced Deceased.

The article was accompanied by two photos: a dark, night-time picture of the rubble that had once been Ponyville Town Hall, and a small file photo of Ditzy.

“Aw nuts,” Ditzy said. “If I’d known that my weather license photo was going to end up on the front page of The Ponyville Express, I’d have asked for another take.”

“Really, Der … I mean, really, Ditzy?” Rarity stepped closer. “You almost came to a terrible end last night, yet you’re more concerned about oh my goodness! That really is an awful picture.”

“Is that lighting supposed to make everypony look like a zombie? Really, with all the tax money going towards weather patrol, I’d think they could afford better photography.”

“Ehh.” Ditzy shrugged, then pushed her bag towards Rarity. “Anyway, remember when you said you could use more of those gold flower petals? I found some more.”

“Oooooo!” Rarity removed several of the blossoms from the bag. “Oh, yes, these will do quite nicely.”

She deposited the bag in a nearby chest, then locked the chest. She disappeared into one of the boutique’s back rooms, and she reappeared a moment later with another bag. This, she passed to Ditzy. The bag was lighter than Ditzy expected. Looking inside, she found it held an assortment of gemstones, rather than bits.

Ditzy mentally added up the value of the gems, and realized Rarity had given her significantly more than the base value of the gold flowers. “Wow,” she said. “Thanks.”

“No, Ditzy. Thank you for giving me the ingredient I needed to create a piece of art.”

“Pleasure doing business with you!” Ditzy turned to leave, but halted when she felt Rarity’s hoof on her shoulder.

Rarity held up the front page of the newspaper again. “Obviously,” she said, “this got some major details of the story wrong. But is it true that you were there, at Town Hall last night, trying to stop that bomb from going off?”

“Umm … Sort of? I was stopping something very bad from happening. That’s all I can say about last night.”

“Well, some of my dearest friends are well acquainted with just how fickle recognition for heroism can be. I’d like to make something for you, as a lasting token of our appreciation.”

“Which would you prefer? A hat? A scarf? A cape? Boots? Blouse? Skirt? Pants? Saddle?”

“Oh, I’ve got an idea that would be just perfect! Hold still just one second …”

Ditzy found herself caught up in a whirlwind of tape measure, then somehow deposited outside the boutique’s front door. She shook her head, then picked up the bag of gems and trotted away.

“I’ll have it ready for you this time tomorrow!” Rarity called from inside.

The image of the school playground dissipated like a smoke cloud as Princess Luna cleared her throat. “Neither a blessing nor a curse, then,” she said. “You believe that your unique power of sight is your purpose in life. Your calling, for good and for ill.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Ditzy said. “That’s a much more concise way of putting it.”

With the Ponyville schoolhouse gone, Ditzy found herself—and Luna, and the mirror—seated on flat ground. It was featureless and gray. The sky was precisely the same shade of gray, but was filled with thousands of gleaming soap bubbles.

“It heartens me to hear that, Ditzy Doo, because I have an offer in which you will be quite interested. How much did Agent Time Turner Hooves tell you about the Royal Secret Service?”

“Nothing, really. … Wait, is that what ‘R.S.S.’ stood for all this time?”

Luna nodded. “You know the role the Guard serves in protecting Equestria. You must have some inkling of the roles that my sister, and I, and the Elements of Harmony play in Equestria’s defense. Well, the Royal Secret Service exists to solve problems before they become severe enough to require intervention by the Guard or the Elements. Problems of which the average Equestrian citizen is better off remaining ignorant.”

“Yes, Ditzy Doo.” Luna permitted the corners of her mouth to curl up, very slightly. “You’re already doing the work of a Secret Service Agent, but unofficially and alone. How would you like to continue, officially?”

“As an Agent of the Royal Secret Service, you’ll have access to a wide-reaching support network, opportunities for higher education, and a very competitive benefits package. And the pay … well, it’s … adequate. You know how government work is.”

“I’m sure it’s better than what I’m getting paid now for this work.”

“Ha! That’s the spirit!” Princess Luna levitated a sealed scroll from beneath her wing. “Here is the formal job offer. Read through it after you wake up, take a week to consider it, then write back to me.” She passed the scroll to Ditzy.

Ditzy stared at the scroll resting on her hoof, then looked back up to the Princess. “Wait, did you say, read through it after I—”

Ditzy had stopped chuckling midway through the trip back from the clock shop, but she still smiled as she trotted up to her apartment complex. However, when she stepped into the hallway, the blinding purple light quickly wiped the smile off her face.

“Morning, Ditzy Doo,” Twilight Sparkle said. There was a soft thump as she slammed a book shut—a very thick book, by the sound of it. “You’re out and about awfully early.”

“Morning, Twilight,” Ditzy said, looking intently at her hooves. “I take it you’re here about … that thing you mentioned earlier?”

Twilight gasped elaborately, then added in a stage whisper, “She’s a mind reader!”

As Ditzy approached her door, she almost tripped over the book-stuffed saddlebags at Twilight’s side. She opened the door and stepped in.

“Yes, of course, Ditzy. But before you close that door, let me warn you that Princess Celestia answered my letter and authorized me to … Wait, did you say ‘talk it over’? Yes!”

Ditzy closed the door. “Wait,” she said, “what was that last thing you said? About the Princess authorizing you to do something?”

“Oh, that.” Twilight’s hoofsteps continued, at a slower pace, through the living room and into the kitchen. “Celestia replied to my letter last night, and said that I really need to discuss the issue with you before I do anything else. So I figured, if you tried to brush me off again, you’d be obstructing me from obeying the Princess’ direct order, and I could arrest you for it.” She emerged from the kitchen. “Ha ha, it’s a good thing I didn’t have to do that!”

Her eyes on the floor, Ditzy brushed past Twilight, into the kitchen. “You want anything to eat? I’ve got muffins, and … um …”

“Well, I’m starving.” Ditzy pulled an almond poppyseed muffin from her breadbox. “My offer still stands if you change your mind.”

“Darn it all, Ditzy Doo, you’re the most frustrating pegasus I’ve ever met!” The purple light flared with Twilight’s shout. Ditzy flinched, and Twilight continued. “Why the delays? Why the evasion? Are you allergic to answering questions or something? Why won’t you even look at me?”

The purple light dimmed to its normal level, and Ditzy’s breathing slowed. “What?” Twilight said, softly.

“I … I can see magic. Not just the visible unicorn spells—all magic. The subtle energy that flows from the pegasus ponies’ wings and the earth ponies’ hooves. The power behind unicorn telemawhatever—”

“Yeah, that, and also the power that the unicorns don’t use. All that magic looks like auras of light.”

The muffin was indeed lying on the kitchen floor. Twilight’s telekinesis enveloped it, and it rose to Ditzy’s eye level, glowing brightly and unbearably. “Thirty second rule!” Twilight said. “It’s still good!”

“Twilight, you and I both know the thirty second rule is a lie. It’s five seconds or nothing.”

“Yeah …” Twilight tossed the muffin in the garbage can. “You know, Ditzy, there’s a medical term for what you describe. Thaumaturgical synesthesia. It’s a very rare condition in unicorns. Very, very rare.”

Twilight continued, “And cases in earth ponies and pegasi are just theoretical. They’ve never been documented. Do you know what this means?”

Ditzy thought, Ugh, let’s get this over with. She said, “You think I’m just—”

Twilight paced, her hoofbeats growing faster as she grew more excited. “Oh my goodness, oh my goodness, Ditzy, you need to come over to my lab sometime! I could run some M.E.G.s and some other tests, write up the results and … Oh! Oh! I could publish in one of the really prestigious peer-reviewed journals! Medicine! Magic! Thaumaturgia Experimentalis et Applicata! Perhaps even ... Medical Magic!”

Judging by the tone of her voice, Twilight must have had stars in her eyes as she said the name.

“Add another brick to the temple of pony knowledge! And prove that I’m not just … just … Um, Ditzy, we’ve gotten a bit off-track.”

“Wait! Just one second,” Twilight said. Her rapid hoofsteps went back to the front door. Several thumps followed—the sound of heavy books falling to the floor. Then the purple light dimmed significantly. “How does this look?”

Cautiously, Ditzy glanced in that direction. For the first time, she could look directly at the Bearer of the Element of Magic without hurting herself. Twilight’s body still glowed, but only with the light of an indoor lamp.

Ditzy found her appearance somewhat anticlimactic. Subconsciously, she had assumed that the personal student of Princess Celestia looked more like royalty and less like a librarian. It didn’t help Twilight’s appearance that she was wearing her saddlebag pocket over her head, like a very misshapen hat. But this odd headgear covered her horn, reducing its glare to a bearable level, so Ditzy wasn’t going to criticize. With her hoof, Twilight shifted the bag to uncover one eye, and she met Ditzy’s gaze. Ditzy smiled and nodded vigorously.

“Great!” Twilight said. “So then. Ditzy, how do you know about Th’cl’br’gh the Overpunctuated? The one you called the Eyeless King?”

“Wait, wait, ‘the Overpunctuated’? Unicorn scholars actually called him that?”

“In that particular field, a sense of humor goes a long way towards fighting off the creeping madness.”

“Makes sense. Anyway, I know about him because I’ve been to places where information about him isn’t considered a dangerous secret. No, not other countries. Other dimensions. Places where the King’s banishment beyond the ninth darkness is still within living memory.”

Twilight squinted at Ditzy. Before she could voice any disbelief, Ditzy continued. “Specifically, I learned about the Eyeless King from Hazard Read, from Xanthorgh the Flayer, and from the murals of Iasô-nmartis. And I’m sure there are some others I’m forgetting.”

“Not the only part, just the easiest to dispute. Because Hazard Read lived in Saddle Arabia.”

“Time flows differently in the thirty-third dimension. Which is where I met him.”

Twilight muttered something under her breath. “Okay,” she said aloud. “Setting aside the question of Hazard Read, none of this explains that sketch of yours that started this whole mess. How did you know enough to recreate the layout of an ancient temple of Czernobaa? You couldn’t have learned that from the murals of Iasô-nmartis.”

Ditzy trotted to her kitchen table, then returned carrying two sheets of paper. One of them, the second page of her earlier note to Twilight, she hoofed over. “You mean this sketch?”

“I copied it from this.” Ditzy hoofed over the other page. It was on thinner, cheaper paper than the first sheet—thermofax paper—but this version of the plan had all the labels that Ditzy had omitted from her sketch.

“This is an exact copy of the original blueprint from Town Hall. Well, it used to be in Town Hall …”

Twilight dropped the sheet and scrambled backwards until her rump collided with the wall. “How is this … How did nopony … What should we do about …” She gasped, then looked directly at Ditzy. “That explosion last night. The news said that you were trying to stop the bomb, but that’s not true, is it? You blew up Town Hall, because you realized what it was.”

“And because somepony fulfilled the Scarlet Ceremony earlier that very day.”

“No, not deliberately. Completely by accident. Turns out that just one drop is enough to fulfill the ‘blood of a virgin’ portion of the ceremony.”

“An accident. I don’t know if that’s better or worse.” Groaning, she pulled the saddlebag further down, until her entire head was inside the pocket. “Ditzy, I feel really weird about this. Is this how the rest of Ponyville felt each time I saved the town from some disaster? Nevermind, don’t answer that.”

Twilight sighed before speaking again. “What I really want to know is how Ponyville built a temple to Th’cl’br’gh the Overpunctuated and disguised it as a Town Hall without anypony noticing.”

Ditzy shrugged before she remembered that Twilight couldn’t see her. “Information security gone terribly right, I think? The Princesses did too good a job suppressing knowledge of the forbidden temples. So nopony involved in the town hall’s construction knew enough to get suspicious.”

She looked down at the blueprint. “I’m still wondering about this guy, though.” She pushed the sheet closer to Twilight. When Twilight lifted the saddlebag to see again, Ditzy pointed her forehoof at the signature in the corner of the blueprint. “The architect. Was he some kind of crazy cultist who wanted to summon eternal darkness to Equestria? Or was he just a chump with incredibly poor taste in artistic inspiration?”

Twilight stood up and stepped forward. “It’s just a question of finding him in the architectural archives, then examining all his blueprints to see if any of his other designs are hiding nasty little secrets.” She continued trotting, picking up speed as she passed Ditzy. “Oh, we could make a proper trip out of it! See the sights in Canterlot, visit my family! Ditzy, it’ll be a research vacation!”

Twilight was already heading for the front door. She only paused to levitate her pile of books and carry them with her—forcing Ditzy to shield her eyes. “Let me know when you’re free to go to Canterlot for a week,” she said as she passed through the door. “I’ll make the travel arrangements!”

There was a pounding on the door. “Hey, Ditzy, I forgot!” Twilight shouted from the hallway. “You’re still going to let me run some M.E.G.s to figure out how your synesthesia works, right?”

“Hey, Ditzy, one more thing! We’re having a party to welcome Applejack back from the Equestria Rodeo. You’re welcome to come. It’ll be this Wednesday, at Sweet Apple Acres.”

Aaaaaawkward, Ditzy thought. “I … uh … I’d love to, but I have a … a ... work! Yes, very important weather work that day. Sorry.”

Ditzy sighed and waited. Once she was convinced that Twilight was really gone, she went back to the kitchen. She reached into the breadbox and found it completely empty. As she wondered how she had managed to run out of muffins, her gaze traveled to the window. The plant on the sill had bloomed again last night.

“Aw, horsefeathers,” Ditzy said. She rolled over in her bed and looked out the window. The sun had not risen yet, but the horizon was growing lighter. “I should have known it was all just a dream. That job offer was too good to be true.” She turned to her other side. “And I guess the windsurfing turtle should have tipped me off, too.”

She rolled back to her first side, and her gaze traveled to the nightstand. What she saw made her squint, rub her eyes, and look again. The object was still there: a scroll, sealed with a crescent moon symbol. It was identical to the scroll from her dream.

Ditzy snatched it up, broke the seal, and greedily read the enclosed letter. Just as she hoped, it offered her a job identical to the one she had dreamed about. It was also written in mind-numbingly precise legalese. That, she had not hoped for.

She set the scroll down and massaged her temple with one hoof. Staring unconsciously, she pondered the strange new world she had stepped into: a world of Crown-sanctioned monster-wrangling—a world with at least one other pony who, like Ditzy, hid his true talents from outsiders by necessity. She was still thinking about Dr. Hooves when she realized one of her eyes had been pointing at her alarm clock for at least a minute.

A minute later, she was racing through the air over Ponyville, clutching the alarm clock to her chest.

Another minute later, she was hovering outside the second story window over Time Turner’s Timepieces.

She reached one hoof forward. But before she could knock, the window slid open, and Dr. Hooves leaned out. “Can you please keep quiet?” he whispered forcefully. “One of my time-displaced selves is catching up on his sleep.”

Ditzy peered past the doctor. There was, indeed, another Dr. Hooves sprawled across the couch on the far side of the room. She nodded to the awake Hooves.

“Well then,” he said, “what brings you here so quickly? Did the Princess of the Night, Protector of Dreams, Director of the R.S.S., etc. etc., pay you a visit already?”

“No. I mean … Yes, she did, but that’s not why I’m here.” Ditzy held the alarm clock up to the doctor’s face. “This is.”

Hooves pushed the clock aside. “Two things. First, I don’t fix magilectric clocks. That’s Alternating Current’s speciality. Second, my shop doesn’t open until one hour, two minutes and … forty-five seconds from now.”

“Time Turner, you mentioned a few days ago that you detected a temporal anomaly here in Ponyville? You thought I was the cause of it.”

The doctor’s eyes widened. “So if Town Hall wasn’t the source, then …” He looked down at the clock in Ditzy’s hooves. “That clock began behaving strangely, three days ago, I presume?”

“I can show you exactly how, if you get another radio and set it to KTRT at 6:30.”

Dr. Hooves smirked, then disappeared in a flash of green light. Seconds later, he reappeared with another flash. “Done.”

6:30 struck. First, the clock in Ditzy’s hooves blared the familiar song about days and the averageness thereof. Less than a second later, another alarm clock radio sounded in the room behind Dr. Hooves. It played a completely different song, one with a xylophone, a buttery smooth bassline, and a twee choir singing:

“... are shaking like a le-e-e-eaf!”

“Whargebargmurberdurber …” the other Hooves, on the couch, muttered. With his eyes shut, he flailed a forehoof in the general direction of the radio on the floor, just out of his reach. “Pahrmeeshuddatauforaimakeeyooo!”

“It blows a hole in the radio,
where it hasn’t sounded good all week.”

Ignoring his just-awakened self, the Hooves at the window leaned forward and examined Ditzy’s clock. “This radio’s at 90.1 FM, and so is that one. This is definitely Ow!”

“A mike and boom, in—”

The other radio struck the back of the doctor’s head, fell to the floor, and went silent. The other Hooves, exhausted from the effort of throwing the radio across the room, slumped back onto the couch and went to sleep.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Dr. Hooves rubbed the back of his head with one hoof. “Heh, heh. Totally worth it.” He took the clock from Ditzy and shut off its radio. “Thank you so much for bringing this to my attention.”

The window just to her right opened, and Dr. Hooves leaned out. “Ditzy Doo? Thank goodness. Would you like some tea? I was just about to put a pot on, and perhaps we could unravel the mystery of your alarm clock together.”

“Good, isn’t it?” Hooves said. “I don’t know where Tealove finds this stuff, but she really does import the best tea varieties.” He picked up the screwdriver with his mouth and resumed calibrating his boxy, silver scanner.

Ditzy set the teacup back on the table and waited until Hooves set the screwdriver down before speaking. “What does that thing scan for, again? What can it pick up, besides tachyons?”

“Oh, it can pick up all kinds of particles. Chronitons, anti-chronitons, bandonions, frippertronics, chromelodions, warticles … even time beaver feces.”

Ditzy furrowed her brows and said nothing. A few seconds passed, and Dr. Hooves sighed. “Fine, I get it. Don’t quit my day job …”

“Oh! Time stream! Hahahaha …” Ditzy rolled onto her back as she laughed, kicking her legs in the air. “... hahahaaaaa. At first I thought you were serious and time beavers were real.”

Hooves muttered under his breath, and Ditzy could barely make out the words. “Well, at least you figured it out quicker than …”

He pointed the scanner at the alarm clock, then turned the radio on. As the familiar song played, the needles of several gauges rose. The first ones read, “400 mGy Ω,” “30 mGy Ŵu,” “0 mGy Ŧt,” ”1.2 cGy Ŷ ” ...

“What does that mean?” Ditzy asked.

“It means I’ve seen this kind of signal before.” Hooves shut off both the scanner and the radio, then placed the latter on his back. “Come with me to the basement. I’ll explain on the way.”

“There’s a very interesting device”—he continued as he and Ditzy tromped down the stairs—“that can send messages into the past. And it hides these messages as distortion in an otherwise-normal radio signal. Which, unfortunately, hides the messages so well that the device has to give an unmistakable, overt signal so the recipient knows they even received the message. Rather defeats the purpose, if you ask me.”

They reached the ground floor, and stepped into the front room of the clock shop. Hundreds of clocks covered the walls, ticking and tocking in perfect unison.

Dr. Hooves led Ditzy down another staircase. “Everything. When a radio begins replaying the same transmission, again and again, that is the overt signal that you’ve received a message from the future.”

They arrived at the basement door. It was barred and locked, and it looked solid enough to withstand anything shy of a battering ram.

Hooves turned to Ditzy. “Can you hold your clock for a second? I need to get the key. It’s under a rock.”

He disappeared in a flash of green light, then reappeared a second later, holding a key. “A rock seven thousand years in the past.”

The walls of the basement were lined with computers and other, more esoteric devices. Dr. Hooves walked up to one computer that had two reel-to-reel tape decks and a built-in microphone. “Behold!” he said. “The decryptor.” He loaded a feed reel onto each deck, then he placed the clock next to the mic. He pressed a button, and the bottom tape began turning. He motioned for Ditzy to be quiet, then switched on the radio.

Silently, Ditzy surveyed the objects around her. To her right, there was a particularly large computer with a rainbow-colored wheel on the front and a dark, inverted triangle above it. There was a desk with a large set of brass calipers, at just the right height and diameter to grasp the average pony’s head. There was a stand holding a model of an atom, made of brightly painted wood. Next to it was a larger model of the same atom, made of dull gray metal.

A bell dinged. A green bulb on top of the computer lit up, and the tapes stopped turning. “Well,” Hooves said as he turned off the radio. “Looks like it’s a short message.” He rewound the bottom tape, then pressed a different button. Both tape decks began turning.

Ditzy resumed looking around the room. To her left, there was a device resembling a giant toaster, with slabs of metal in its slots rather than bread. There was a glass case holding the skeleton of a dragon’s hand and forearm—cast in metal. There was a watermelon in an industrial vice.

“Ohmigosh I forgot!” Ditzy grabbed the doctor’s shoulders. “Applejack! What about her?”

“You said that my wrecking Town Hall set in motion a chain reaction of bad decisions that will end with Applejack never coming back to Ponyville! That’s a bad thing, right?”

“Oh, right. That. I’ve already taken care of it. Well, from my perspective I’ve already taken care of it, but from her perspective it hasn’t happened yet.”

“You see, a few days from today, I’ll ‘just happen’ to run into Applejack at the Dodge Junction train station. I’ll say something that makes her consider sending a telegram back to her family. Shortly after, she’ll send it. It will arrive on Wednesday, and voila!”

“Another chain reaction. You see … Oh, it’s done decrypting.” The computer’s green bulb was shining again, and the tape reels were still. “I can fully explain later. But, in short, sometimes the best solution is to follow the lead of our dearly-beloved Sun Princess. By which I mean, trick other ponies into solving problems for you.”

He rewound the bottom tape deck again, then pulled the reel off and loaded it onto a nearby tape player. “Here it is, Ditzy. The moment of truth. The ultimate meaning of the song that’s been haunting you for these past days. The—”

“—not going to work. It’s not merely impossible, it makes a mockery of causality itself. You’ll see.”

Upon hearing the voice from the tape player, Dr. Hooves groaned and placed his hooves over his eyes. However, the next voice made him drop his hooves and stare at the player in rapt attention.

“Okay, Time Turner. It’s recording. Try and prove me wrong.”

“Watch and learn, dear. Ahem. Hello, past blockhead.”

“Hello, future jerk,” Hooves answered. Ditzy sighed, and simultaneously, the second voice in the recording sighed as well. The first voice continued.

“I’m calling to inform you that a temporal and spatial anomaly will begin forming on Ponyville Town Hall tomorrow morning. A day after that, a monster will try to come through. One of those very nasty beasties that you and I are technically not supposed to know about. There’s no need to panic though, because Ditzy Doo has it well in hoof. You know, the pretty gray pegasus with the funny eyes.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Doc.”

“Perhaps you could consider finding some way to help her. At the very least, just stand back and let her do her thing, instead of making a fool of yourself. Surely doing nothing can’t be too hard for you? If you pull that off, I’ll be slightly less disappointed in you than usual. … Alright, that’s it.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want to send back?”

“This experiment was your idea, Ditzy. Are you going to send it or not?”

“Sure, sure. It’s this switch, right?”

“No! Not that—”

The message ended. For some seconds, the only sound in the basement was the faint “whirr” as the tape reels continued spinning.

“That …” Dr. Hooves shook his head. “That wasn’t meant for you at all, Ditzy. How did a message meant for me get sent to you?”

“Oh,” Ditzy said. “Ooohhh! It’s my fault. It’s … Ha ha hahahaha!”

Hooves could only look with confusion as Ditzy fell to the floor and continued laughing.

Alarm Clock

by Meta Four

The Filly with the Moon in Her Head (The Morning After the World's Last Night)