Sideboard of Harmony

by FanOfMostEverything

Quod Cucurbita

The first rule of time travel is, "When in the past, don't gawk at everything like a tourist in Haywaii."

Well, actually, the first rule of time travel is, "Don't time travel unless you absolutely have to." Then there's a bunch of other rules involving causal loops, paradoxes, and a general theme of ensuring that you don't accidentally make the universe implode. But the first rule that isn't punctuated with an unspoken "or you'll kill us all, you idiot" is the one about the gawking.

The reason I bring this up is because I had to keep reminding myself of it as I walked through Ponyville. It wasn't that the town was especially impressive, it was that it was all one big rush of nostalgia.

Oh, I should probably introduce myself, shouldn't I? You're probably not used to hearing about my particular Equestria in the first pony. You may not used to being directly addressed by Equestrians, come to think of it. Aunt Pinkie always says it's best to keep signs of explicit audience awareness to a minimum unless you're from that one splay with the megaspells, but you don't mind, do you?

...I guess you can't really answer that. Well, you can, but I certainly can't do anything with the answers. Not in any kind of reasonable time frame, in any case.

Where was I?

Oh, right, introductions. Sorry. I get sidetracked rather easily. Something of an occupational hazard. You've probably heard about me. I'm the fourth member of the Ponyville branch of the ETSAB. Space Division, Department of Quantum Affairs, Office of Ontological Ambiguity. Which, yes, is a thing that exists, though the budget committee has a tendency to forget.

My name is Pumpkin Spice Cake. I'm an ontolomancer.

You're probably asking three questions right now. Firstly, why would I open this little communiqué with rules of time travel if I'm from the Space Division? Well, as you likely know, in the temporal region of this Equestria with which you're most accustomed, I'm an infant, assuming that I've even been born. A filly still in diapers kicking flank and taking names may seem neat in theory, but it's not Bureau standard operating procedure. However, the rest of the branch is highly active in this time, and with good reason. This era will in time be known as the Concordant Eclipse, as the return of Princess Luna and the ascendance of the Avatars of Harmony—

Oh, wait. Spoilers. In any case, it's a very eventful time, and the Bureau isn't going to have let a little thing like temporal logistics (or verb tenses) keep one of its most promising agents (their words, not mine,) out of the action.

The second question is admittedly one you might not be asking or even care about, but I'm answering it as a matter of professional pride: what is ontolomancy?

Yes. That is to say, ontolomancy is the magic of what-ness, i.e., existence. I can make the false real and the real false. I can make truth and beauty solid enough to sit on or vanish so completely that I disappear from sight and memory alike.

Of course, this leads directly to the third question: where was I during the harmonic elemental incident? Surely, you reason, that was a prime example of the unreal acquiring a dangerous degree of reality. Why wasn't I dispatched to counteract the manifestation?

Well, it's more complicated than that. See, they weren't the only ones forming themselves at the time. I was, too. My mother was pregnant with Pound and me. Travelling to a point in time when you already exist is a touchy matter at best. Going to one when your body and soul are still gestating is just asking for trouble. Life-eradicating, universe-imploding trouble.

Anyway, Ponyville. Wandering. Nostalgia rush. Locally, it was a few weeks after I was born. Mom and Dad still had their hooves full with the new twins, so as long as I avoided the Sugarcube Corner, the odds of running into them, and by extension myself, were slim. (Not that that meeting would be disastrous. Just... awkward. What do you say to a pony who just changed your diaper?)

There was always the matter of Aunt Pinkie, but I had accounted for her as best I could. One can never be entirely certain with her, of course, but I did have some emergency contingencies. Ones devised by her, no less.

In any case, I managed to keep myself off Memory Lane enough to avoid stares. Well, most stares. A few were actually quite flattering, and others had the familiar quizzical look of somepony trying to divine the meaning of my cutie mark. I admit, it's not the most obvious or straightforward image to grace a flank, but that's only to be expected when your special talent is the magical manipulation of existence.

I soon reached my destination, though it took me a moment to recognize it as such. It was just so... small. The Ponyville Post Office should've been—

Oh. Spoilers again. Sorry, I'm still a bit wet behind the ears when it comes to time travel. This is only my third polyennial trip. Still, I'm going to spending a lot of time in this, er, time. I'd like to get to know my fellow agents as they are in this particular "now." Preferably after I get first impressions and professional introductions out of the way. Thankfully, that's one application of time travel that doesn't break the universe.

Anyway, I entered the Post Office, struck again by how tiny the place seemed. A familiar stallion stood behind the counter. He didn't smile, but as Aunt Pinkie might put it, he's never been the smiliest pony in the world. "Hello," he said. "Can I help you?"

"Mr. Address Unknown?" I knew it was him, but I had to ask. He'd never met me before.

He nodded warily. "And you would be?"

"Summer Squash," I lied smoothly. "I work with your wife semi-regularly." True, from the flexible temporal perspective needed in my line of work. "Is she in?"

He shook his head. "She's out walking the routes with some trainees. She should be back in an hour or two."

"I see. I'll come back then."

"Should I tell her you came by?"

I hesitated for a moment, then smiled. Address wouldn't normally make such an offer to somepony he just met. I must have made a good impression on him. "That would be lovely. Thank you."

I left the distinctly diminutive post office undaunted. Ditzy Doo wasn't the only agent in town, after all. With a minimum of looky-looing, I made my way to Starting Lane and a two-story house thereon. A sign with three candies hung above the door. This place, at least, felt familiar. Felt right. The memories of future caramels past played on my tongue as I walked in.

The earth pony behind the counter perked up as a bell announced my entry. "Welcome to Bonbon's. I'm Bonbon. How can I help you?"

I admit, I'm a young mare. In some ways, I'm still a filly. I was tempted. Oh sweet sisters, was I tempted. Exquisite hoofmade caramels that could turn a summer afternoon into hours of bliss and sore jaw muscles. Jewel-cut rock candy that could set off Dame Rarity's gem-finding spell. Color-speckled jawbreakers like tooth-eroding stars plucked from the sweetest depths of Luna's sky.

My parents are bakers. I know the ins and outs of pastry too well for it to have any fascination for me. But Bonbon was a confectioner, an artist who used sugar like Mom and Dad used flour, who could make cacao beans grateful to be roasted and pulverized, who had an even better and worse love-hate relationship with Ponyville's dental hygienist (and temporal logistics operative) than did the Corner...

I realized that I was drooling. Blushing, I caught my shameful saliva in my telekinesis. "I'm terribly sorry."

Paragon of grace that she was, Madame Dulcinea waved it off. "Please, I take it as a compliment. What's your pleasure?"

"I'm actually looking for a Miss Lyra Heartstrings." Duty and maturity dragged every word like a great slab of lead, or perhaps of the toffee that even now...

No. Bad Pumpkin. Business before pleasure. Such pleasure.

Confusion and a hint of fear flickered on Bonbon's face for a moment before her genial smile reasserted itself. "Lyra?" she asked, just a bit too high and too quickly. "What do you need her for?"

Enamored as I was with her creations, I wouldn't be a Bureau agent if I didn't notice the salespony's mask slip. "Is there something wrong, Miss?"

"No!" She scrambled to correct the outburst. "No, nothing's wrong. Everything's fine." She swallowed. "Er, why, exactly, do you need Lyra?"

I gave my best reassuring smile. "Just a fan of her work, Miss." Technically true. We may both be in Quantum Affairs, but I could never do what Lyra does on a daily basis. I just keep tangible and intangible distinct. She makes sure that everything that can happen does.

Bonbon gave a relieved sigh. "Thank goodness." She giggled a bit. "I know how crazy this will sound, but sometimes those conspiracies of hers sound terribly... believable. All nonsense, of course," she said, as much to herself as to me, "but... sensible nonsense, if you know what I mean."

I nodded. Ah, the perils of hypnotic confidentiality. Minds can't be neatly portioned off into public and private. Like a cheap quill, they either leak or break. Thankfully, Lyra's did the former, though at times it seemed like the latter. "Miss Heartstrings has something of a reputation for... eccentricity," I said diplomatically.

Bonbon gave the ghost of a grin and shook her head. "No, I don't think we can afford eccentricity. Lyra's just weird." The grin revivified. "In any case, you didn't come here to talk about her behind her tail. She's upstairs."

"Thank you." I started for the stairs, but soon halted. My stomach and inner child had banded together and were demanding compensation for their cooperation. "Um, Miss Bonbon?"

"Yes... Oh, I never even got your name!"

"Summer Squash." I took a deep breath. Princesses preserve me from this sweet tooth. "C-could I get one of the big bumboozer 'breakers? To go?"

The big bumboozer was to jawbreakers what coconut custard was to combat bakery. It was slightly smaller than a foal's head and contained more than a day's recommended allowance of carbohydrates. After the Geneighva Convention, it took decades of work by the confectioners' lobby to make it legal again. The techniques were nearly lost to the ages. Some rumors claim that the mare who finally convinced Celestia was actually a member of the Time Division sent in a rare case of sanctioned historical alteration. Others say the princess herself went back to correct her earlier mistake. All I knew for certain was that the day I could first fit one of those enormous spheres of sugary bliss in my mouth was one of the greatest in my life.

I couldn't look back. I didn't need to. There would be that same gentle, faintly smug smile that confectioners, bakers, vintners, and other purveyors of society-sanctioned vice seemed to learn. It was a smile that said, "I am glad to help ease the burdens of your life. I will speak of your purchase to nopony and will never, ever judge you. In exchange, you will give me a lot of money." True to form, she answered, "That will be twenty bits."

"Worth every cent." I only realized I'd spoken the thought after the fact.

"Plain paper bag?"

Something in her tone struck a spark of rebellion in me. "Actually," I answered, turning to face her, "just leave it on the counter. I'll pick it up on my way out."

As I noted above, I wouldn't be an ETSAB agent if I couldn't detect subtle hints and betraying flashes. Here it was a moment's hesitation, a hint of grudging awe in Bonbon's voice. "Certainly."

I took a deep breath as I went up the stairs. Compared to my sugar fix, dealing with an inactive Lyra would be a walk in the park.

Upstairs, notes from a lyre drifted out of one of the rooms. It wasn't music but experimentation; after a couple notes, the forming melody would cut off, only to repeat with a changed note here and there. Even without the halting tune, I would've been able to pick out which door led to the unicorn; it was the only one with a griffin-style rotary doorknob, the sort that's almost impossible to work with hooves. I knocked on the oddly outfitted door.

"Come in."

I did just that, turning the knob with my magic. As soon as I crossed the threshold, an enormous hand formed of golden magic grabbed me, lifted me into the air, and began to squeeze the life out of me.

All in all, still not as bad as my sweet tooth.

Lyra grinned triumphantly, her horn wreathed in an identical auriferous aura, an open book hovering before her next to her iconic instrument. On the cover of the spellbook was an open five-fingered hand over an unpleasant looking ten-pointed arcane seal. "Thought you could catch me off guard, didn't you? Big mistake. I knew the Mare would send her goons after me if I was on the right track. All you've done is confirm my suspicions."

"Hi, Lyra," I croaked, my breathing rather obstructed by my bindings. "Very nice use of Magnus Beta's Grappling Grasper."

The hold loosened a bit as she gawped at me, flummoxed by my nonchalance. "Wha... You're not supposed to say that!"

"Oh, was there a script?" I gave my best look of concern. It wasn't hard; I just had to seem worried about a social faux pas rather than living long enough to taste the massive masterpiece that waited for me downstairs. "Sorry, I didn't know." As I waxed contrite, I started to feed my own magic into the hand, eroding its coherence.

Of course, that wasn't going to go unnoticed by its controller. Lyra's expression snapped from incomprehension back to righteous fury. The fingers around me tightened as she snapped, "Don't try to distract me! Do you even know what this is?" She tilted her head towards her tome, shadows dancing in her moving hornlight. "What it's capable of?"

I nodded. The squeezing wasn't so bad as the Grasper became progressively less real. More cushiony than crushing. "To quote the Mad Arabian: 'Sibling to this Liber Paginarum Fulvarum is the Liber Digitalis Ambulatorum, where the secrets of the God-Apes may be found by those who dare to claim them for their own.'" I peered critically at the Book of Walking Fingers. "Of course, what you've got there looks like a fifthhoof copy at best."

"Really?" The grip slackened again as she examined the codex. "I thought it was an original."

I snorted. "Oh no. You know when you've got an original copy of that kind of spellbook. The loss of sanity and the mutations are kind of a tipoff."

"Mutations?" There was unease in Lyra's tone, but also a bit of morbid fascination.

"Uh, hello? Sibling to the Neighcrotelecomnicon? You definitely wouldn't still have hooves. You might not even have legs."

"Huh." Lyra shook her head. "Darn it, stop trying to distract me! It's not going to— What have you done!?" Darn, she noticed. Between my spellcraft and her lack of focus, the Grasper had gone from brilliant solidity to fitful transparency. The mint-green mare redoubled her efforts, overglow wreathing her horn. "I'm not letting you report back to Canterlot!"

I admit, the sheer wrath in that declaration shook me. "Y-you don't mean—"

"Oh, don't worry. Fifthhoof or not, the book's still got a lot to teach. It calls this a 'sleeper hold.' I'll just send you back as a message." She flashed a sadistic grin. "Nopony tugs at these Heartstrings."

I would've facehoofed if I could wriggle one free. "Really? 'Nopony tugs at these Heartstrings'? Did you spend all night coming up with that one?"

She blushed. "N-no!"

"Why not 'I call my own tune,' or 'This lyre will find the truth'? I mean, at least you didn't make a hand pun, but still."

Lyra scowled. "You're in no place to be criticizing my choice of one-liners!"

I rolled my eyes. "The fact that you're making one-liners at all is kind of embarrassing. You don't think spying is actually like a Con Mane movie, do you? All gadgets and cart chases and reporting to ponies with one-letter code names?" Okay, there is that weird stallion L Lariat over in Anomalous Affairs, but his parents actually named him that.

If looks could kill, I wouldn't be telling you this. "Shut up!" Lyra screamed. Layer after layer of overglow enshrouded her horn. The Grasper began to vibrate with its caster's fury.

Fortunately, Lyra had just been feeding more and more power into the construct without ever figuring out what I'd been doing. It didn't really hurt, but the quivering wasn't fun. "I d-d-don't thi-i-ink thi-i-is is-s-s wha-a-at the-e-ey me-e-ean b-b-by sha-a-aking ha-a-ands!"

Then the spell passed a vital threshold, becoming so unreal that it could no longer support my weight. Thus, I began to pass through it. However, Lyra was still reinforcing it, which meant she was trying to form a force construct where there was already solid matter.

In the end, it came down to the Pauni Exclusion Principle. The hand and I couldn't occupy the same space. Something had to give. The hand was more fragile than I was, and so it exploded.

Hang on. I'm going to get that bumboozer. Be right back.

---

Pumpkin Cake, Ontolomancer 3UU
Legendary Creature — Unicorn Wizard
Flash; hexproof
When Pumpkin Cake, Ontolomancer enters the battlefield, put target exiled permanent card onto the battlefield under your control. Exile that permanent at the beginning of the next end step. If that permanent would leave the battlefield, exile it instead of putting it anywhere else.
1/3

Comments

[DreadedCandiru2]

Hmmmm....This wouldn't happen to be the ETSAB's way of handling Twilight's latest foray into heroic stupidity, would it?

[Dusty the Royal Janitor]

I am incredibly intrigued by this version of Pumpkin Cake, and I want to see more of her...

HEADCANON ACHIEVED.

[FanOfMostEverything]

1474577 For once, Twilight pushing the boundaries of inadvisably applied magic is not a thing in one of my stories. I know it must come as something of a shock.

1478950 She has shown up a bit in My Little Praetor. I figured she and her fellow Bureau ponies deserved a bit of time in the spotlight, especially since she's intentionally keeping the spotlight off of them in that story.

Also, I'm going to borrow a page from Hoopy McGee, author of the excellent Project: Sunflower, and provide an image of full-grown Pumpkin. Thanks go to GeneralZoi for the Pony Creator, indispensable for those of us whose skill with words greatly outweighs our skill with pictures. Cutie mark image © What Pumpkin Studios, used without permission.
i171.photobucket.com/albums/u281/A_Hack/ThisPumpkin.png

[Dusty the Royal Janitor]

1479731

Awesome. I was sorta holding off on My Little Praetor because I was iffy on the darkish content of it (I'm kinda a pussy when it comes to dark content). But it's great to see a character like this, and might I say her cutie mark looks great.

Also, Project:Sunflower for the win!
i3.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/195/734/80921%20-%20apple_bloom%20applejack%20brohoof.png

That story, in my opinion, is legitimately the best Human in Equestria fanfiction ever written

[DreadedCandiru2]

1479731
That it does. I mean, most of what I've seen the ETSAB do is clean up after her when she channels Deeeeeexter, Boy GEEEEEEEEEEnius.

[Starscape]

Fantastic story!

[FanOfMostEverything]

1832847 No, I'm afraid I've never heard of that particular Gaiman work. It's simply a play on the Many Worlds interpretation of quantum uncertainty: If anything can happen, it does, just not necessarily in your timeline. Hence, a nearly infinite number of Lyras. And Harpsies.

[Rakaziel]

Interesting character and I am really curious how it plays out. Her cutie mark is also a work of genius.
All things considered this begins to remind me at the Warhammer 40K fanfiction Age of Dusk (itself a sequel of The Shape of the Nightmare to Come - both are really good).

[Rakdar]

Is that a fallout equestria reference I see?

[FanOfMostEverything]

5672494
It's one of the most notable stories with first-person narration.

[Rakdar]

5673197 so yes, I did see a reference.

[UrsaMajor]

Aunt Pinkie always says it's best to keep signs of explicit audience awareness to a minimum unless you're from that one splay with the megaspells, but you don't mind, do you?

What's a "splay?"

[FanOfMostEverything]

9943858
Worldline, timeline, continuity... One of many terms for the same concept.