The Starswirl Paradox

So here he was. The trail had led right back to where he started; the crumbling building from which he had gained his glyph mark, and this quest which was now almost over.

His tribe was nothing but charred skeletons and burnt down foundations from a long gone raiding party, but none of that mattered. If what he did here succeeded, none of it would ever have mattered.

Walking through the old building brought back memories from his youth of his father teaching him the basics of scavenging. He missed his father dearly.

Standing in front of the bookshelf that housed the concealed switch he had discovered as a child (and which he no longer needed to stand on a table to reach) Ziffur paused. He had abandoned his tribe, left them all to die, on some wild chase through over two hundred years of lost and scattered hints. A lot of details he had to fill in on vague assumptions. He had sacrificed his home, family and life for what he hoped was the greater good.

If what he seeked was not within here, and there was no other trail to follow, he resigned to himself that he would go to what was left his tribe’s Shrine to the Gone. With Starswirl, his trusty .44, he would blow himself into the everafter. It was not a happy thought, but it gave him a sort of peace.

He tugged on the switch. The sound which followed seemed louder then he remembered, but it mattered not, as the passage revealed itself all the same.

Trotting down the stairs to the concrete floored, metal walled passage, his heart quickened. For the first time since he started this quest, he was actually afraid that what he was searching for might not be here at all. Any number of things could have happened. Lost, looted, destroyed, succumbed to time, missing in transit from before the war… or, simply, it might not work. These thoughts sent a shiver up Ziffur’s back.

Reaching the end of the passageway, he stopped and looked around. It was exactly as he remembered it: uncomfortable chair and metal desk on the right, a row of lockers on the left, and the oddly off-centered terminal on the back wall.

He went to the terminal.

At first, he tried clicking a few buttons; he knew it was futile, as he had tried it when he was younger. None of his tribe members could figure out the arcane box, so it went on unused. Ziffur inserted a card he had uncovered from one of his leads into a slot on the underside of the terminal.

Nothing happened.

2 seconds.

5 seconds.

10 seconds.

Ziffur’s eye twitched. He was less than a second away from smashing the terminal to bits when it finally clicked on. He uttered a sigh of relief.

The terminal read:

WELCOME <ERROR>

PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD

Ziffur slowly and deliberately entered the password he had so painstakingly assembled over the years:

DEAR OLD FRIENDS, REMEMBER, FRIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

In essence it was an obscenely simple password, but one Ziffur felt nobody would ever have managed to guess.

He tapped ENTER.

A metal panel slid almost silently into the ceiling to the left of the terminal.

Ziffur’s heartbeat quickened. He walked through the newly opened passage.

The door slid shut behind him. He was trapped!

A hissing sound filled the room. Ziffur pounded in vain on the door that had sealed itself, but before he even had time to think to reach for his gas mask, a door on the other side of the enclosure slid open.

Confused but nevertheless relieved, Ziffur walked into the newly revealed passage, which was near enough an exact copy of the first one. This led him to a large room with a solid metal, horseshoe shaped desk. A terminal, with its back to Ziffur, was seated on the desk. A massive map of what Ziffur believed was the whole planet took up the entire wall behind the desk.

A clanking sound filled the room, growing louder with each bang. Ziffur reached for Starswirl, when a large, four legged, pony-like metallic contraption walked in. A Protectapony, Ziffur believed. It came from a large corridor on the right, where several different colored lines led along the wall. Hesitating to fire, as the machine was not firing on him, he waited.

The machine announced, “SCANNING AREA… WELCOME! DOCTORRrrrrrrRRRrrrrRRRrRRRRrrrrr- ERROR! DNA SCANNING MODULE DAMAGED. ERROR! VISUAL SENSORS OFFLINE. SCANNING FOR IDENTIFICATION CARD… IDENTIFICATION CARD LOCATED. WELCOME BACK, DOCTORRRrrrrRRRrr ERROR! ERROR! ERROR! IT HAS BEEN 9-9-9-9-9-9 SINCE YOU HAVE LAST CHECKED IN. IF YOU HAVE NO CURRENT ASSIGNMENT, PLEASE REPORT TO THE ADMINISTRATOR’S OFFICE FOR DEBRIEFING ON YOUR NEXT PROJECT. IF YOU HAVE ANY CONCERNS, PLEASE VOICE THEM.”

This contraption might be of come use after all, Ziffur mused. Walking up to the Protectapony, he addressed it.

“Machine. I require that you inform me as to the location of Project Starswirl. Make haste in your explanation, I must move quickly.”

“–PROJECT STARSWIRL– CAN BE LOCATED BY FOLLOWING THE –RED– LINE LOCATED ON THE WALL TO THE –ANOMALOUS SPELL TESTING– LABORATORIES. IF YOU HAVE ANY FURTHER INQUIRIES, FEEL FREE TO ASK.”

“I thank you, machine. You have saved me hours of searching, and if this works, the lives of billions.”

“YOU ARE WELCOME, DOCTORRRRRrrrRRRrrrRRrRRrrRRRrrr ERROR! ERROR! ERROR! ERR! ERRRRRRRRRRR-”

It’s “head” exploded. Nodding his condolences to the Protectapony, Ziffur said, “Rest well machine, you have completed your duties admirably.”

Following the red line as per the machine’s instructions, Ziffur came across another sliding door that sealed him in, labeled ANOMALOUS LABS. He was more prepared for this one, and waited patiently for the door to open on the other side.

Stepping through the door, he followed a blue line which was labeled “Proj. Starswirl.” This led him again to one of those sealing-hissing-door-rooms, as he called them, for he knew not what their function was.

A hiss, pause and a slide later, the door opened. He froze.

There, hanging suspended by a Powered Telekinesis Machine, was what he knew down to his very soul to be the thing he was looking for.

A silver harness, with straps leading over- and under-body, connecting together to keep the mass of knobs, wires, lights, and various other doohickeys stable while worn, floated through the still-powered machine’s telekinetic field. On a circular buckle that rested on the center of the chest was a blue shield with a purple starburst in the middle of it.

Mounted on four hooks to the right on the wall were series of four gauntlets, decorated similarly to the harness with wires, lights and the like. To the left of the harness was a helmet, again similarly adorned with bits of tech like the gauntlets and harness.

A glowing terminal screen flickered to life on a table by the ensemble of techno-wear. Trotting over to the terminal, Ziffur began to read:

Project Starswirl, a collaborative effort between three ministries and hundreds of scientists of all shapes, sizes, and PhDs, is finally complete. The endless hours all of our dedicated staff put into this project is incredible, and to see the final product an absolute dream come true- for all of us, I’d imagine. With this, we might just be able to turn the tides of the war, and hell, maybe even end it. [good intro, provokes strong feelings, no changes necessary]

What we’ve done is incredible. That’s all there is to it. In. Credible. But with this power comes an immense responsibility. We can’t screw anything up, or we may just screw the damned universe up. Seriously. We are only to use this in controlled and approved circumstances, to change only what we’re told to change and not a damned thing else. You are not to so much as step on an ant unless we approve it. If you do screw something up while using the harness, we’d have to send someone more reliable than you back to stop us from sending you in the first place. [humorous, but far too unprofessional. see what we can do to keep humor?]

Yes, we’ve considered the paradoxes. From the small scale tests we’ve preformed, we’ve determined that the planet’s latent magical potency can and will naturally fix any errors we may make in the time stream, while leaving most or all changes intact. Of course, we’ll find out how it performs full-scale in a week. But, either way, it’s always better safe than sorry. [informs we have taken things into consideration and provided results, excellent, short and sweet. no change necessary]

Now that we’ve got the boring introduction out of the way, [honestly? remove this] let’s get down to the real business. The main harness contains the megaspell teleportation/time travel fusion spell [use of “spell” after “megaspell” unnecessary], transferring the user’s body to the destination time and location which is currently configured. By default, we have it set to the day after the harness’ initial completion, at the main laboratory in Canterlot. [informs of all defaults and how it works, in layman’s terms. good]

We discovered that most of the original test-rats we sent came back vegetables. [“vegetables?” far too harsh in the terming, try something a little less… cruel sounding, I suppose?] It seemed that while the body arrived in its original time as planned, the “mind” was stuck in the past, with no real way to retrieve it. Thus, the helmet was developed. A sort of “time travel hardhat” to keep all your thoughts in that pretty little noggin of yours. [no. just no] By using a special megaspell specifically designed for the helmet, and developed in tune to the nigh-undetectable force that we have dubbed the “soul,” and, working in conjunction with the harness, we have developed a way to help keep this soul where it belongs – in you. [not bad, a little rough, but not bad at all]

But this still didn’t solve the little dilemma of time constraints. A time-travel spell with a time limit does not leave much room to work with. We couldn’t have out little time-traveling worker bees dashing about with only 2 minutes or so to make their honey, could we? [I’m not even going to comment on this, just remove the damned thing] No, we couldn’t. That is why we developed the stabilization gauntlets. Each gauntlet has a unique use, but all are necessary in order to properly operate the harness. By casting a constant combination of a specially tailored temporal stabilization spell, recasting a localized version of the time-travel spell to constantly reset the time limit so that it doesn’t “run out”, casting a geographical pinpointing spell (the first time we tested without this, the rat ended up in space – because the planet was in a different position. The rat itself hadn’t moved, but the planet had) [absolutely unnecessary information, remove everything within the parenthesis] and a localized shield spell, as there seems to be a lot of debris when traveling through the temporal rift, we have successfully created a device which will allow the user to stay back in time indefinitely, so long as they are wearing the harness and gauntlets. The helmet may be removed when the destination time has been reached, but must be reequipped before traveling again.

This combination of advanced technology along with a multitude of megaspells is wh4[‘;@#$%^&*4*^5svh5y} [DATA LOST]

Ziffur looked away from the glowing green box and examined the harness again. On the wall by the harness was a diagram explaining the complex strap system that the harness utilized, and how to connect the helmet and gauntlets to the harness. Ziffur examined the diagram until he had the details memorized.

At last, removing the harness from its telekinetic field with the gentleness one would afford a lover, he strapped himself into it exactly as the diagram described. He removed the gauntlets from the wall and gently stepped into them, locking them into place just above the fetlock and connecting them to the harness. Finally, he gingerly lowered the helmet onto his head and connected that as well.

It was then that he realized he had no idea how to activate it.

He carefully explored the surface of the helmet, gauntlets and harness for a switch of some sort. Finally, his hoof brushed against the raised emblem on the chest. A jolt of excitement went through him; he knew this was it. There was no turning back.

His tribe didn’t have many beliefs of destiny, but he knew, beyond any doubt, that this was what he was meant to do.

He pushed the raised emblem.

200+ years before…

“Hey hey! If it isn’t the colt himself!” Time Turner got a hardy slap on the back. Stiffening and subconsciously straightening his posture at the voice, he turned to his supervisor, Sci Fy.

“At ease, Ty, I’m just here to congratulate you on a job well done.”

Relaxing –but only slightly– Time Turner spoke, “Thank you sir, really, but it wasn’t just me. I had some incredible help from the mares and stallions of the science team. Even a few Diamond Dogs, too.”

“You’re much too modest, Time Turner, much too modest. Come.” The blue unicorn stallion walked to the large window that made up an entire wall of the lab. The lab, situated in a tall tower, overlooked all of Canterlot. He stopped a few feet from the window and admired the masonry of Canterlot architecture. Time Turner followed suit, standing next to his boss and looking out the window.

“Look at it, Time. Look at what your work has saved.”

“But, sir, how do you know it will save it? Save us? How do we know it even works?”

“The very nature of the device implies that it has already been saved. You should know. You made it.”

“But-” Time Turner did not get a further chance to repute this, though, as a strong gust of wind blew through the enclosed room. Papers fluttered from startled scientist’s desks in volumes, and loose objects like pencils or books were tossed about like dust. The gale centered on a growing tornado of paper and objects in the middle of the room. In a blinding flash, the silhouette of an equine form was outlined against the veritable wall of paper.

The light faded and the wind died down. The form straightened, papers settled and the eyesight began to return to those in the room.

There was a tense moment as everypony in the room gaped at the new arrival: a clearly battle-hardened zebra wearing the very thing the team in the room had completed not a day ago.

Ziffur examined his surroundings when his eyes caught something. Walking silently to the window, any pony in his path backing safely out of the way (with Time Turner and Sci Fy backing away on either side of him) Ziffur paused.

Canterlot. The city of the dead. One of the clues he had chased led him to the very spot he now stood, only about two hundred years from this current time. It was from this very building that he found his prized pistol stowed in a safe. Outside, there were no pink clouds or endlessly regenerating ghouls, just a wondrous city with lively citizens.

Ziffur shook his head. He was not here to sight see; if he did not do what he set out to accomplish, nothing would change. He turned around to the ponies in the room.

“Greetings, citizens of this past. I must inform you of a catastrophe that must be prevented. At any cost. I beg of you, hear my plea.”

A tenser moment still. Finally, Time Turner speaks, “That… that is my device you’re wearing.”

A pause, followed by a shout from the crowd, “The zebras win the war! Sound the alarms! Launch the megaspells! Get the ponies to the Stables!”

The room was suddenly a frenzy of activity. Ponies shouting into phones, furiously typing on their terminals, or simply running in panic.

Ziffur looked on in horror. He shouted, “No, no! This is not the way it should be! If you launch those megaspells, the zebras will retaliate in kind! Do not fire your weapons, ponies.”

Sci Fy approached Ziffur. Levitating Ziffur’s pistol from his holster, Sci Fy casually checked the load. With a satisfied nod, he snapped the cylinder into place. Speaking in the tone of someone who might be discussing the weather, he asked, “How do we know you are not saying that in an attempt to spare your own kind? That you are one of few zebra survivors from a war the ponies win, and, having stolen our technology, are attempting to change the course of the war?”

“You must believe me. The future is a barren, desolate waste. Nothing grows but monsters and every moment is one of hardship. Nothing will win this exchange. Neither pony, nor dog, nor griffin. Nothing.”

“Does that include zebras?”

“Yes.”

Sci Fy cocked the hammer of Ziffur’s pistol. “Then it will be worth it.”

Ziffur attempted to shield his face with his leg as Sci Fy brought Starswirl, the pistol, to bare and pulled the trigger. First was the deafening report of the pistol, proceeded by a tinkling of glass and metal to the floor and a harsh sparking. Ziffur’s front left gauntlet was a shattered ruin. The wind was back in force now, powerful enough to throw ponies off their hooves.

“You know not what you have done!” Ziffur shouted above the din.

“Of course I know what I’ve done. I stopped the war.”

Ziffur disappeared in a flash. The wind died again as ponies regained their footing and went back to the scramble.

Sci Fy looked over the pistol for a while. “This is quite a nice weapon. I believe I shall store it in my safe for now.”

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