//------------------------------// // Postlude: Morning Sixty-seven // Story: Alarm Clock // by Meta Four //------------------------------// dear mom and dad, great news! i got a promotion at work! it’s a new position, something really cutting-edge. and somepony very high up in weather patrol thought i would be a good fit. what stinks is that it’s so cutting-edge, i can’t say anything about it. i can’t even tell you what i’ll be doing! oh well. i’m just happy to have a job where i get paid to use my particular TALENTS. but this means i have to go to canterlot for training. a lot of training. maybe even… a canterLOT of training? but seriously, it’s a lot. i’m leaving in three weeks. it lasts six months. i don’t know if i’ll be able to write you while i’m there. how’s the cloudscaping going? and that cookbook you’re working on? give captain flint a cracker for me. love, dd p.s. hey mom. a little bird told me that dad earned a silver laurel! at the battle of sanbox grotto, i think they said. is that true? why didn’t i hear about that sooner? i know dad doesn’t like to talk about some of what happened downrange. but if you know anything, i want to know it too! Family and friends: Not coming back to Ponyville. Don't worry, will send money soon. Applejack dear carrot top, i’m sure by now you’ve noticed your new fridge. if not: check it out, you’ve got a new fridge! you’re welcome. yes, it’s kind of my fault that your old fridge shuffled off the mortal coil. i couldn’t tell written script why, but i can tell you. it’s all mixed up in something i’ve been keeping secret for a long time. and i guess i should have told you about THAT years ago. i’ll tell you at our lunch next week. we’ll have it at my apartment. friends forever, ditzy doo [The following is translated from Faelic. -eds] Nuada, King of all Cervids, Lord of the Mounds, Protector of Danu’s People, and possessor of other titles too numerous to list, Of late, communication between our courts has been less than ideal. We do not write this to assign blame, for it has been to the detriment of both of us. First of all, had you told us what foe you feared—and feared enough to mass all your armies, as you so recently did—we could have sent some ponies to your aid. You know yourself how strong ponykind can be. Sometimes they even surprise us! One pony, just recently appointed an agent of the Crowns, singlehoofedly thwarted an attempted invasion by Ystravilim, the one you call the Morrígan. We would not believe it, either, had we not seen it ourselves. Second, if your house and ours were speaking as they ought, we would have learned sooner of a deplorable practice your people are committing. Some among your citizens—none less than the youths of your noblest houses—have made a sport of assaulting foreigners who enter the Mounds. This will not continue. That is, unless you wish for the stars to fall on your kingdom and burn it to cinders. We are sure you will agree with us that communication is of the utmost importance. Don’t be a stranger! May the blessings of Harmony be upon you, Her Royal Highness, Luna, by the Will and Forbearance of Equestria Princess, Night-Sovereign, Moon-Guide, Chancellor of Horslund, Commander-in-Chief of Pegasellas, Queen of Terrelicorno, Defender of Harmony, Protector of the Realm of Dreams, Guardian of den Fjerde Væg, Bearer of the Spear of Nebuloso, Bane of Discord, of Atl, of Tirek, of the Bronze Crown, of the Smooze, and of the Ancients of Mu, Sovereign of the Draconic Order of Merit, First Degree of the Zebrican Order of Valor, etc. Postlude: Morning Sixty-seven On a normal morning, Dr. Time Turner Hooves would use the “snooze” button on his alarm clock at least twice before rising from bed. His abilities gave him the unique opportunity to arrive on time to work every morning while still sleeping in as late as he wished. Rare was the morning that he didn’t take that opportunity. This morning, however, he was roused by a certain pegasus bouncing on his bed. “Time Turner! Time Turner!” Ditzy Doo shouted with each leap. “Get up get up get up!” He groaned and pulled the bedsheets over his head. “It’s too early to be this cheerful,” he mumbled. If Ditzy understood his mumblings, she acted like she didn’t. “Come on, you gotta get up! There’s something you’ll really wanna see!” “What I really want to see right now is this pillow.” “It’s a huge rift in the eleventh dimension, right over Ponyville, you sleepyhead!” The sheets flew off the bed, and Time Turner bolted upright. “I’m awake! Where is it?!” Ditzy stopped hopping and pointed. “You can see it from the living room window. I set up the—” Time Turner dashed into the living room. Next to the window, the Scanner 2.0 was already mounted on its tripod and pointed to the sky. He slipped the eyepiece on and gasped. With his naked eyes, the patch of sky had appeared completely nondescript. However, with the scanner, it was a riot of swirling blue, red, and green blotches—a false-colored approximation of what Ditzy Doo could see naturally. He switched the scanner to pick up a different range of wavelengths, and he saw a completely different but equally dizzying pattern. “Pretty, isn’t it?” Ditzy said. Time Turner hadn’t noticed her approach. “So, what do we need to do?” he said. “Set up a perimeter to keep everypony a safe distance away?” “Uh, no.” Time Turner pushed the eyepiece up, onto his forehead. “So our first priority is sealing the rift ourselves, then? How do we do that?” Ditzy furrowed her eyebrows. “Actually, no, we don’t.” “Then what do we do?” “Sit here and look at it.” When Time Turner gave her a confused look, Ditzy continued. “These rifts are completely harmless, and they reseal themselves after an hour or two.” “You mean this isn’t an emergency?” “Nope!” “Then why the heck did you wake me up so early for this?” “Because it’s pretty.” Smiling, Ditzy reached over and slid the eyepiece down, back over Time Turner’s eyes. His rear slumped to the ground. Slowly, a smile formed on his face. “Yes,” he said. “It really is quite pretty.” They sat and looked in silence for a few minutes. Then, Time Turner furrowed his brow and placed a hoof on his chin. “You look like you’re thinking hard about something,” Ditzy said. “Are you thinking the same thing I’m thinking?” “Probably not.” He pushed the eyepiece back up to his forehead. “What are you thinking?” Ditzy looked back out the window. “Well, it’s just, I’m reminded of the morning that this—you and me, all of this—started. I’m wondering how things could have turned out differently. What if I had turned off my radio sooner?” “Yeah, not what I was thinking at all. I was thinking, Did I lock my doors and windows last night? And the answer is yes, yes I did. Ditzy, how did you get into my apartment?”