A Hush Reigns Over the Universe, But a Final Blaze Shouts

by Comma Typer

You Still Sound So Wondrous at the Whole World

“…and you’re sure you’re set in to welcome these refugees, uh, Generalissimo Wallnut?” asks Cinnamon in a stale, graying conference room.

The Generalissimo himself, a bat pony decorated in military regalia—and wearing a name tag claw-made by Anarchy—looks in askance. His hat obscures a landscape painting put in there for the express purpose of livening up the dull room. “Ma’am Cinnamon, I know you’re reaching your hoof out across your… uh—”

“Her bureau’s stories,” completes a blue changeling, whose name tag reads Blue Alarm. “Also, he’s about to make a good point. I came from way before the whole curiosity thing started in the first place.” He then points at a human name-tagged Macario sitting at the far end of the table. “This guy’s not even an Equestrian!”

“Actually, po—”

“Two humans,” cuts in the winged Flash Sentry beside him.

Cinnamon doesn’t groan as she recollects her hooves on the table, facing down each member of the motley crew before her. The objective of the gathering is clear to Cinnamon, helping around with transcribing what was left and being there to relate to who was left. It was Anarchy’s idea: It’d be like a focus group! But with friends! But several arguments and caffeine buzzes later, the smell of coffee cannot mask the lack of progress.

A trio consisting of a moon-wearing Princess Cadance, a scorched Autumn Blaze, and a Stellar Flare without her futuristic scarf lean forward. The last mare begins, “Our own stories haven’t even come out yet. As well as Wallnut Drive’s—”

“Hey, that’s not true, ma’am!”

“I know, and I think dear Cinnamon’s read up enough about your silly wars! And Alarm’s from before any of our worlds even met!”

Anarchy effects a smile, picking up a slice of the table.“So? There’ll be more hands, hooves, and other appendages on deck for the task ahead! And, yeah, you haven’t seen Lil Cheese a lot, but he’d be ecstatic to meet all of you for the first time!”

Cinnamon blinks. “Are you serious? We’re trying to help keep the remnants of your world from falling apart and being forgotten, and you’re focused on this?”

“Not by freeze-drying the whole thing then pinning it on the wall!” She seals her lips shut before getting her claw ready to snap before everyone in attendance. “But I can do a couple of things, get ’em right and dandy. Maybe I can have fun with them after?”

---

“That should be the last one,” Cinnamon finally says as she signs off a signature on a batch of papers and books right after taking care of some incomplete records.

She sees it hauled off on a wagon, disappearing after a corner in the hall. In its place, a pair of fellow agents talk up more reports, more realities to connect to. She figured that, somewhere, she may find more versions of herself out there, maybe working in a metareality agency just like hers

She doesn’t check the time as the lights turn off behind her, trotting to the break room before the bureau’s exit.

After opening the door, the little cafeteria explodes at her with a wall of light-hearted chatter.

By a vending machine, Blue Alarm along with his cadre of changeling friends talk with Anarchy’s own changeling companion Mandible who’s just brought bat pony Moon Wane over to help argue about which soda is the best, comparing the sounds of fizz of all things. Standing in line at the canteen, the two humans gather, with Macario standing far away from a growling Cozy Glow held in Flash Sentry’s arms. “I didn’t know evil foals could be this cute! Hey, Sight See, this horse can fly! So this is what Ditzy saw…”

The rest of Anarchy’s friends sit around an unusual duo: Spiral Star with his sunburned armor next to the fancy Generalissimo Wallnut Drive, the both of them sitting on a soap box telling tales from their worlds. “I know this heat death stallion’s quite the silent type,” Wallnut goes on, “but I don’t mind working with a diverse bunch like ya all are!”

Cinnamon winces at that as she approaches the room’s end. Several Twilights console one another upon a couch, along with two Discords, one whispering to the other as the latter can only nod and nod, the both of them seated on soft chairs that she recognizes from Fluttershy’s place. And speaking of Fluttershys, a pair of them turn their backs on her, the second hiding her face from Cinnamon but not fast enough to conceal a teardrop from her eyes.

At the end, by the kitchen door, Anarchy says goodbye to a couple of the Power Ponies before she opens a portal back into their comic world. As it closes, “So, how’s it going, Cinny?”

“Your world’s been doing relatively fine, considering the circumstances. All the other agencies have been doing much more stellar work than mine could, but nevertheless, we’re doing all we can to give all of you a good home. I’d say I’m more than proud of that.”

A light catches her attention. A candle on the cafeteria table flickers.

“Done already in, what, fewer than two thousand words?!” Anarchy takes a seat and takes out her empty bags from hammerspace. “But hey, brevity is wit and whatever else that kooky old proto-Troper said!”

“Oh no, I’m not asking you to leave or anything, if it’s not your time.” Cinnamon’s words catch Anarchy mid-packing. “It’s just, much of the preservation has been done. Snapshots of the world, copies of your stories and histories… it’s all under control now. You can rest easy with that in your mind.”

Anarchy sticks her tongue out. “I mean, sure, I can, but we still have to move somewhere… more permanent! You don’t mind us crashing around the place here, no? ICBM don’t mind?”

“The IC—oh right… that’s a pun.”

“Hey, that’s part of the Cinnamon I know! You gotta loosen up… it’s proof that whoever thought of the name wasn’t a grouchy grump!”

---

Under a cold, starry night, she sits at home, with her long-time friend Cookie there for dinner. Situated in a village not too far from Ponyville, this house and its neighbors has acres of farmland just a stone’s throw away. Even now, the smell of produce has only now been stamped out by the scent of pumpkin soup.

“So how’s it going, Cinnamon Bun?” The cheerful Earth pony sipped on her food and made a loud slurp. “I heard Oakley’s hanging out with his wife, like, again!”

“That’s how marriage works,” Cinnamon says. “It’s been over a decade after we all got uplifted, and you still sound so wondrous at the whole world.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Cookie makes a characteristic tilt of the head. “I mean, it was kinda’ sad when we all moved out on our own from the Apple family—and yeah, I know what you’re gonna say… ‘Yes, I know, I was there’—but it’s still fun!” She tilts her head further, her mane dangerously close to her soup. “How’s work? Sounds like you got some overtime blues.”

“Been fine enough.” A couple of cookies are taken. “We did have an emergency. Everyone pitched in, though.”

Her head tilts far enough for the mane to be dipped in her food. “Emergency, huh? Tell me all about it!”

“It’s not a fun story, Cookie.”

---

Cookie’s sobbing still rings from across the bedroom. Though muffled by the pillows covering her ears, Cinnamon still lies awake, chilly past a crawling midnight.

It burns her heart, left a seething, empty, hollow, despairing something within her veins. Cookie kept asking, looking for more scoops on the emergency. The news, of course, was broken to her in full.

Don’t worry about our counterparts there, Cinnamon said. They’re in good hooves now.

That was hours ago. The watchful ticking of her alarm clock marked the hourly fractions when Cookie cried awake and when she cried asleep.

A warm coasts Cinnamon’s head. Her heart beats harder. She rises to see a candle, tries to focus on it through the window. It may have vanished, if it has been there.