//------------------------------//
// Moop 
// Story: Poniocracy Side Stories 
// by sunnypack 
//------------------------------//

	
Chapter 1: AOE


For a short period of time, when a black hole crashes into a dense knot of exotic particles rapidly decaying from the aftereffects of a supergiant supernova, a bridge between universes is formed that lasts exactly forty two seconds. Mind you, that’s not a very long period of time, and predicting a supernova to the precise moment whilst also creating a black hole would be a feat that would make even Discord cringe.

So why expend so much effort?

Science.

The little Praxlites of the universe adjacent to Equestria’s own were a curious bunch. They looked a little like parasprites, round and fuzzy with big eyes but no mouth. They communicated through an advanced form of telepathy. Without the ability to hide one’s thoughts from a fellow member of their own race, they were forced to get along extremely well, or perish as soon as they were created.

The Praxlites chose to continue living.

It was amazing that the Praxlites had survived to make a race for themselves. With no natural defence mechanisms, the Praxlites had to convince other animals—through telepathic suggestions—that eating them was a bad idea. The first Praxlite to discover this technique was hailed a hero or heroine of their whole species. It’s probably prudent to mention that Praxlites have no gender and replicate through binary fission.

A major factor that got the Praxlites off the ground (quite literally) was the fortunate discovery of telekinesis. Praxlites can float a little off the ground, which was a lot more dignified than rolling around. It also helped them shape tools and work with the material they had around them, which was immensely useful. Think about having as many hands as you want, only that they’re invisible. If the Praxlites didn’t have telepathy, they probably would have torn each other apart trying to find out who invisibly threw the first slap.

A fun fact about Praxlites is that their brains are around the size of their bodies. Praxlites, under all that fuzzy fur and big eyes, contain a brain that is almost forty percent the mass of the Praxlite itself. There’s a common problem with Praxlites overthinking things. If a Praxlite dwells too long on their own existence they can overload their brain, which will cause them to spontaneously combust and turn a perfectly normal-looking Praxlite into a living torch.

Ironically, that’s how they first discovered fire.

This story is about a little Praxlite within the Praxilian Space Program.

For the convenience of our limited gender-emphasising language, we’ll refer to Moop as a male Praxlite, even though if you asked Moop he’d probably blink at you a couple of times and wonder what the heck you were talking about.

Moop was talking to Foop about the shoop the ship that was about the investigate a curious phenomenon that occurs when exotic matter collides with a black hole. The Praxlites weren’t to know that it would lead to another universe, but they wanted to see what would happen. The Praxlites were a very curious type of creature, but they weren’t the most cautious.

“Foop, are you sure it’ll be safe to be near a black hole and a supernova?” Moop asked for perhaps the sixteenth time.

“Moop, you worry too much.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Unfortunately, Moop didn’t have much choice to be part of the Praxilian Space Program. In fact, he had recently stumbled across an abandoned warehouse, accidentally leant against the wrong lever and mistakenly triggered a ‘secret’ hatch that opened a doorway to the secret observatory the Praxilian government had built. After being heavily screened for spying, which was a two minute session of Q&A (it’s not like a Praxlite could lie) and leaving his telekinetic signature on numerous crystal data cubes, Moop was told that he’d be a patriotic adventurer for the Praxilian government.

“Do this job for us,” they had told him. “And you can go back to absorbing and growing your own little cluster.”

So Moop had floated meekly along and was unceremoniously dumped on a ship to examine the nearest bizarre scientific phenomenon they could find.

The cockpit had four insultingly simple buttons. One of them wasn’t even necessary. The first big blue button he had been told was the ‘Data Acquisition’ button. Moop was supposed to press that as soon as the big blue star exploded. The second big green button he was told was the ‘Return to Base’ button, which he should press when the big blue star and the black hole finished interacting. The third big red one was for ‘Ejecting’. Moop was told that if he ever wanted to see planet Nux again, he’d not press that until the ship had landed safely back on Nux.

As an aside, the last button was just for pressing, and only if crew members ever got too bored.

Moop tried to mention to tell the scientists he was colour blind, so he wouldn’t be able to tell which button was which, but the scientists unintentionally ignored him when he made a series of innocuous comment at an inappropriate time [1]. 

So to Moop, the buttons were all grey. Instead, he tried to memorise the buttons, but after twenty minutes in the cockpit, he failed to recall which button in which order did the thing that it was supposed to. He supposed if worse comes to worse, he had a pretty good chance of surviving. Only one of these buttons were fatal, the rest were okay.

So Moop drifted in space waiting for a massive big blue supergiant star to go supernova.

This is crazy, he thought to himself. If Moops had a lip he would be anxiously biting it. This is a bad idea!

It doesn’t take long for the star to go supernova. After all, it was leading up to the moment for the best part of a thousand years. When a star gets sick of advertising the issue, it’ll explode, wiping out all life within the region in the process.

The star is a spiteful thing.

[1]
The story goes a little like this:

“I can’t tell the difference between red, green or blue, by the way.”

The room fell silent. There was the odd telepathic cough which was akin to hearing static on the radio.

Praxlites were very sensitive about their fur. Fur length, shape, fluffiness and independent strand movement were all factors in determining whether a Praxlite would mesh well with another Praxlite. Similar furred Praxlites were usually from the same cluster, so Praxlites could easily tell if another Praxlite was related to another. Praxlite wars had been fought over this issue, so fur still remains a sensitive topic today, even though fur tolerance had dramatically increased in recent modern times.

On an off hand note, the Praxlite wars were centred on the three primary colours of red, green and blue.

“Really?” The lead scientist, Loop, sent over a telepathic link. “Why?”

“Well it’s not about the colours you see, but what they can do,” Moop replied, his telepathic gesture obscured by the cockpit sides of the ship.

“Interesting thought, we’d just been talking about that and how we can come up with a solution to this divisive problem,” Loop muttered. “I didn’t take you for such an insightful Prax.”

“Uhh thanks? Great, I look forward to being told about the solution, the sooner the better, right?”

“We’ll let you know if we even do,” Loop laughed, floating out of the room. Ending centuries of prejudice? That was like ending hunger and achieving world peace. He didn’t know Moop was a such a funny fellow.