Boredom
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“Mr. President?”
A man in a very expensive suit stood at the head of the long table. Each side was lined with military personnel and advisors with various looks of shock and confusion on their faces. His glasses reflected the light from the dozens of monitors around the room as he spoke with the same calmness he had shown for the last hour. “You heard me general.”
A man directly to his right, chest littered with medals and markings to match his many decades of service, sighed to regain his composure before responding. “Mr. President, their missiles are already primed. Once their ships get in range they'll fire. If we don't respond now we may not get the chance.”
“'Respond' general?” His voice showed none of the tension of the situation. “You heard the same report I did. Everything points to it being a misfire, not an act of war.”
Another man stood abruptly on his other side. “Mr. President, you can't be serious! They took out our base. They killed, not just soldiers, but their families as well. This is clearly an attack to weaken our presence in the region. And even if it wasn't, the public won't just accept this as some kind of accident. We can't simply let it slide.”
The president took a deep breath before exhaling slowly, then he took another. “They claim it was an accident. Our reports show it as a misfire as well. I will not start world war three just because we doubt the evidence. I will not let us be the nation who has to look back on this day and remember it as the day our fear caused us to make the largest mistake the world has ever seen. If I am wrong, and I pray that I am not, then I will live with that for the rest of my days, but if I am right, I will have saved us from being responsible for the needless deaths of millions upon millions around the world!”
The man to his left didn't hesitate. “Mr. President it's not that simple! In two minutes their ships will be in range and launch everything they have. We'll lose the entire west coast and be unable to respond before they can mount their next attack.”
“Or they could reach the ship that fired and recover it's crew before it sinks. If it was truly a misfire then they shouldn't be left out there to die.”
Once again the general looked to his superior, bracing himself for the answer he knew was coming “Are you sure Mr. President?”
“Yes general. For now we wait.”
The room fell to silence. All eyes were turned to the largest monitor in the room. It's screen showing a live satellite view of a sinking ship and the fleet sailing towards it. A digital overlay showed the minimum range needed for a launch to be successful. Everyone waited with bated breath as the distance between the enemy ships and the boundary lessened.
They reached the edge.
Time slowed.
Then they stopped.
No one dared move or speak, lest they initiate the launch they all feared.
For nearly a minute all was still, all was quiet.
Then they saw it. It shot out from the leading craft.
It was a rescue boat.
The collective sigh could almost be heard outside. The president himself slumping back in his chair and removing his glasses. A smile of immense relief spreading across his face as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
The rest of those in attendance were grinning too. Shaking hands and a few sharing hugs, as the tension slowly left them all.
All but one.
He raised a hand, and with a snap of his fingers the room room just stopped.
He banged a fist on the table, cracking it, before straightening his own suit and walking towards the president.
“Why?” he asked in a tone of annoyance. “Why couldn't you just give the order? Do you have any idea how long I've worked on this? How taxing it is to use magic in this world? How tired I am of the charade of being one of you? I just wanted a little fun, that's all. I wanted some mayhem, some conflict, some disharmony. Is that really too much to ask?”
He draped himself lazily over the president, as though he were just a piece of furniture. “It's not like I can get it at home you know. Every day they watch me, waiting for me to slip, to let loose. Oh trust me, I want to. I need to. But they just don't get it. Everything is peaceful and calm and nice. It's sickening.”
Again he slams a fist into the table, this time punching a hole clean through. “I can't stand it!!”
It takes a few moments for his breathing to steady. The rest of the room remaining quiet as he looks at their frozen, too happy faces.
“Still, it's better than being back in the garden. And at least I can have some fun in worlds like this one.” His mouth forms a frown as he looks towards the president again. “Or try anyway.”
Suddenly the room is filled with an obnoxiously loud ringing. The man calmly reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out an old alarm clock, way to large to have fit there, and stops it before checking the time and sighing.
“Wellp, my time's up. Looks like I'll have to find a new sandbox to play in next time.” At that he re-pockets the clock and raises his hand. With a snap the damage to the desk, as well as the man himself, disappear as time resumes. No one notices the extra seat at the end of the table, as if someone was missing.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The door opens with a slight creak as a yellow pegasus pushes her way inside the quaint cottage. Her saddlebags bulging in strain at the full-day's shopping.
She quickly makes her way to the kitchen, the sounds of groceries and other supplies being put away, as she speaks in a voice just loud enough to be heard in the front room. “Discord, I'm back. I'm sorry it took so long. I stopped to have lunch with the girls before heading back. How was your day?”
A serpentine figure sprawls along the couch, a look of resignation falling into place like one of the damned, as he turned his head toward the kitchen.
“Boring.”