• Published 14th Aug 2017
  • 1,887 Views, 90 Comments

Unconventional Methods - FanOfMostEverything



Stories from typewriters, about typewriters, for ty— Wait, no, not that last one.

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Princess Luna regarded the object. Her horn glowed for a few moments. She leaned to one side and hid her lips from the construct with a hoof as she whispered, "We sense no capacity to dream, but We still do not wholly trust that it is naught but a witless work of levers and ink. Tell Us again of this device."

Private Somniloquy shook his head and held up a hoof as he waited for the ringing in his tufted ears to stop. "It's a typewriter, Your Highness."

Luna watched the typewriter. After a few seconds free of suspicious activity on its part, she nodded and somehow spoke more quietly than she had whispered. "That much We have gathered. A pony presses the keys just so, the levers strike like so many pegasi lying in ambush beneath the outer casing. What perplexes us is the reason for its invention."

"So less what is a typewriter and more why is a typewriter." Somniloquy noted his sovereign's inscrutable expression, looking at him as clinically as a doctor at a mildly interesting tissue sample. "Sorry, Your Highness. You— er, I develop some bad habits during those long, quiet night patrols. Like talking to myself to fill the silence. Quietly, of course!" he yelped. "Exactly like that wasn't! And that. Sorry agai—"

Luna raised a silver-shod hoof. "Peace, good Somniloquy. We shall not banish thee for the slightest offense. We chose thee for this task for thy thoughtfulness and insight, as thy superiors spoke of with great fervor."

Somniloquy blinked and tried to imagine any of his commanding officers describing him in a way that wasn't at least half ear-searing profanity. "Really?"

"Aye, in their own fashion." Luna gave him a crescent-moon grin. "We could visibly see the struggle in their faces as they held their tongues around the apparently virgin ears of their Princess." The grin softened. "And, if truth be told, thou art far from the only pony who makes use of the one ready source of intelligent conversation during a long, lonely vigil."

They shared a smile, and for a moment, Somniloquy could tell himself that this was just a pony before him. Then a lock of blue not-quite-hair, a few starry sparks shining within, floated across Luna's face. Somniloquy cleared his throat, brought himself back to full attention, and told himself he was imagining the look of disappointment on the princess's face. "So! The typewriter."

Luna sighed happened to breath out audibly. "Yes. The type-writer. Wherefore the type-writer? When in my millennium of exile did mouthwriting become so reviled that some soulless lump of metal supplanted the quill's grace and elegance?"

"It's more a matter of expediency, Your Highness. There's just too much paperwork to do by mouth or wing or even horn."

"Ah yes, speed. That most pressing concern of this modern age." Luna shook her head. "Faster travel, faster food, faster documentation. Whence came this dire rush, this driving haste? What fell motivator cracks the noisome whip that sends the whole herd of Equestria galloping at every moment? Do ponies not live longer in these modern times than when I last walked the Earth? Are not diseases cured faster, wounds mended faster in keeping with this age of hurry? What are ponies running to as they scurry like spooked rabbits?"

Somniloquy shrugged his wings. "I couldn't tell you, Your Highness. The only reason I hurry is if I oversleep. Once my shift starts, it's usually a matter of 'hurry up and wait' with extra waiting." After a moment, he stiffened up again. "Uh, Your Highness."

"As thou said at the start." Another smile graced Luna's lips, along with a sound that couldn't possibly be a giggle.

"Right. Yeah." Somniloquy bit his lip, nicking it with his fangs for the first time since he was seven. "W-would Your Highness care to use it?"

Any hint of delight fell from Luna's muzzle as she turned her attention back to the typewriter. "We suppose it can do no harm. To Us, at least. We cannot speak for the device." She gave one key a ginger poke, then scowled at the page. "Fie! It is near illegible. Find the servant who prepared this tool of mockery and have her flogged!"

Somniloquy felt his skin prickle with dread. "Uh, Your Highness?"

Shock and worry swiftly overtook Luna's rage. "Oh! Good Somniloquy, wert thou the one who readied the type-writer for Our use? We will happily stay Our hoof if that be so. We know that thou wouldst ne'er seek to make light of thy Sovereign."

"No, Your Highness, it's just that—"

"Then the flogging shall proceed with all modern haste!" Luna paced about the room, wings flared. "The hour is not yet later enough that Our Sister will be abed. Send a messenger, ask her where she has kept Our favored scourge of discipline during Our exile."

"Luna!"

Both froze. Luna appraised Somniloquy once more, her interest far more apparent in her almost predatory grin. Somniloquy just tried to maintain bladder control. After a brief eternity, the princess said, "Yes, Private?"

"W—" The half-word came out nearly ultrasonic. Somniloquy cleared his throat and tried again. "We don't flog ponies anymore, Your Highness."

"Truly? That explains much."

"Also, you just need to hit the keys a little harder. May I?" Luna moved aside, allowing him to type out "test" as a demonstration, then move the paper to a new line for her.

"Very well then." Luna reared up, her shadow falling across the typewriter like death's own.

Somniloquy ran out of the way, eyes shut and ears flattened. It didn't help. The crash, harsh and terrible, came in through his bones as much as his ears.

After a moment of silence, Luna said, "Good Somniloquy?"

His eyes stayed shut, but he still said, "Yes, Your Highness?"

"We believe We will require a new type-writer."