Just in Time
Just in Time
I trotted along my weekend trip to Ponyville market, buying supplies like flour for the family. There were only seven clouds in the sky, each one drifting lazily along, left there by the weather team. Celestia's sun shone mighty bright, its warmth making it feel like summer just a month too early. As hustle-and-bustle as the marketplace was, all was tranquil that morning. At least, that was as calm as I'd ever be.
I smiled with no good reason as I finagled my way through the hordes of ponies in the crowded bazaar. There was a natural music about the place that morning. The faint jingle of a pouch-full of bits, the percussive clopping of hooves on the ground, and the dull roar of ponies haggling with shopkeepers for better deals... All were present that day. I gazed up at the sky, seeing seven sloth clouds drifting like flotsam on the ocean. I even saw a large moving wagon being pulled across the sky by local pegasi. I half expected to see Rainbow trailing as a fall-guard, but was not surprised by the lack of said pony.
I sat down on a nearby fountain's edge, taking a moment to relax. I watched everypony go about similar business to mine, getting supplies for their respective families. I saw familiar faces like Lyra and Bon Bon, as well as Nurse Redheart, who looked mighty strange without her nurse’s uniform. Many ponies waved a friendly ‘good morning’ to me as they passed, some of which I didn’t even recognize. I just smiled and waved back.
After about half an hour of sitting on the fountain, I decided it would be best to head home and drop off the supplies. I stood up slowly so as to not Charlie-horse my knees, and headed off at a light canter. A light shadow passed overhead. I paid no heed.
“Heads up!” somepony hollered at me. I looked up, seeing a grand piano on its way down, having fallen from the moving-wagon I’d seen earlier. Every muscle in me froze in place as though accepting the cruel fate before me. Move… I mentally screamed at myself. Move, dammit! Move! Move!
Somehow, I moved. But I wasn’t the one moving. I caught a glimpse of a stallion roughly my age by looks, shoving me out of the way with a forceful tackle. His forehooves slammed against my side with enough force to crack one of my ribs and send me flying sideways ten feet. I grimaced as I scraped against the dirt streets, a stinging sensation tingling up my spine. I forced the pain to subside, and looked back at the offender. And that was the first I really saw that stallion. He was a pale cobalt blue stallion with a brown mane, who at first glance looked like a unicorn. Upon his forehead was a steel-gray horn, which at that moment was glowing with an emerald aura. But as I looked closer, I saw that he was no unicorn at all. The steel-gray horn on his head was secured upon his face by means of a leather set of straps. A few wires and disc things attached to his face and neck at random places.
Upon second glance, he appeared to be a pegasus wearing a mechanical horn. His wings were flared out, casting a rather majestic if not intimidating shadow. But again, I had to look closer. His wings were also false, secured to him by means of more leather straps. Each wing was made of four little strips of leather, held taught by a long bent plate of metal. They both were fastened to the main harness on his back, which was laced with more wires and discs. I was about to bite my tongue to see if I was dreaming all of this when I saw the pony’s cutie mark, partially hidden by a disc attached to his flank: A pair of steel gears. Well that’s a new one.
I winced slightly as I pulled myself to my hooves, the familiar “I just don’t know what went wrong,” from Derpy above hitting my ears. I looked at the strange pony, managing to catch his steel-gray eyes. He set the piano down with his magical grasp, giving me an incredibly derpy smile before taking off and flying away without a word. I stood there, staring at where the nameless hero once stood for a good four minutes, my mind rushing to catch up with what was going on.
“Are you alright, AJ?” the familiar voice of Rarity snapped my to reality. “What happened?”
I shook my head clear, trying to form words. “Yer guess is as good as mine,” I blurted, managing to form a competent sentence.
Derpy landed softly before me, her hooves softly tapping the ground. Her eyes looked truly disheartened, even though they both pointed different directions. “I’m so sorry,” she said, bowing her head in what I could only guess was shame. “I should have been more alert…”
I smiled weakly, placing a gentle hoof on her shoulder. “It’s a’right, Derpy. Nopony’s hurt.”
She returned the smile as best she could. I could tell she was still mentally beating herself up over it, but there wasn’t a thing in Tartarus I could do to help her. She turned and took off again, hovering over to the piano.
That’s when I started noticing it. The numbers. I saw one hovering over Rarity, glowing a sunset-gold that made it seem as though the actual colors of the setting sun were copying the numbers. I watched it for a while, Rarity’s words falling upon deaf ears as I wondered what the number was. I shivered, noticing the number was descending. Gradually, the numbers were falling down to zero. A strange sense of urgency welled up within me, making me want to shove her out of something’s way like that hero had done to me. I dismissed the feeling, knowing that it was far out-of-place.
“Applejack,” Rarity huffed, finally catching my attention. “What’s going on? Why are you staring at my horn?”
“It’s no big deal,” I replied, trying to ignore the numbers over her head. “I gotta go drop this stuff off at home. We’re all headed to the park fer lunch, right?”
“That’s the plan,” she confirmed. “I’ll gather the girls. We’ll meet you there.” I had never been more happy to be left alone in my life. I turned around, trotting down the road at a relaxed pace. Ponies crossed the streets, left and right, none with a care in the world. But I could see the numbers. I remembered Rarity's number, which at the instant I saw it was 63:210:16:37:52. I didn't understand the numbers or what they meant, but something about them was making me downright uncomfortable. They just descended... Creeping closer to zero. I didn't know what happened when it hit zero, but I had a feeling that it was nothing good.
To my right, I saw a green mare with a red mane sitting on her front porch in a rocking chair, holding a newborn foal in her hooves. 30:75:23:14:20 hung over her head like the imaginary lightbulb would when somepony got an idea. But the number over the foal's head interested me a lot more: 104:361:20:18:40. The first time I had seen the first part of the number over one hundred, was that foal. I continued on, committing the number to short-term memory.
To my left I saw an elderly stallion, his mane grown white with age, only a touch of gray left. His face was as heavily wrinkled, if not more so than Granny's. But the number over his head nearly halted me in my tracks: 0:0:11:45:17. It was damn close to zero, and descending by one every second from the furthest right number. Something about it made my hooves itch to do something, but I didn't know what to do. There was nothing to do.
After spending half an hour walking down that road, I finally arrived home. Applebloom and the other Crusaders ware in the parlor, coming up with some 'brilliant' scheme that would earn them their cutie marks. Over my little sister's head was 76:167:13:01:01. I watched it descend for a moment, the number transforming to 76:167:13:00:59 in but two seconds. I turned away, having given them a smile and a knowing chuckle. I stepped into the kitchen, where Granny was slicing up some apples for a pie. Above her head was 4:7:3:04:56. I smiled and greeted her as though nothing was troubling me, setting down my saddlebags full of flour and sugar and things to bake with. She smiled her usual kooky toothless smile, giving me a strong (for her age anyway) hug. She said something about taking Big Mac a pitcher of water on the west field so he didn't keel over from overworkin' himself. I didn't rightly believe that was possible, but I had nearly done just that from lack of sleep. I picked up the bucket she hoofed my way, the pitcher now in my saddlebags where cinnamon and sugar were this morning. By the time I left the house, Granny's number was 4:7:3:01:13.
I cantered over to the west field, careful to not trip and spill the water. I saw Big Mac bucking some trees, sweat dripping from him like Winona after a bath. His buck was much weaker than usual, only getting three quarters of the apples in the tree. Above is sweat-matted mane was a number that was descending faster than most everypony else's: 25:202:13:05.59 In just ten seconds, it had lowered down to 23:182:15:09:11. Something about that didn't sit right with me, and I nearly puked on the spot. My hooves itched like they'd been chewed on by fire-ants. I trotted up to him, setting the bucket down, and retrieving the pitcher from my bags. I set it down, filling it with water from the old wooden bucket.
"Drink up, big guy. You look mighty parched," I chuckled. I put a hoof on his shoulder, making him stop moving. His head drooped low, his breath shaky and ragged. I knew he'd argue and want to continue until the work was done, but he didn't that time. He just stumbled over to the water, taking long gulps from what was left in the bucket. As he drank, I watched his number rise. When he finally raised his head, a proud 57:173:41:17:12 hovering over his sweaty mane. I pondered it for a while, wondering what it meant.
Elderly have low numbers, closer to zero on the left. Young'uns have higher numbers, further from zero on the left. The number descends with time, but rose quite a bit when Big Mac drank that water. Then again, he did look close to keelin' over like Granny said. Wait... Keelin' over... By Celestia's mane... The realization hit me like the hero from earlier. I'm seeing time.
I'm seeing time.
The concept was strange to me. If I was interpreting the numbers right, Big Mac had fifty-seven years left in him. He'd live well into his eighties, assuming he didn't unexpectedly keel over for one reason or the other.
That's when I got curious. How much time do I have left? I ran home, the pounding of my hooves on the ground unable to drown out my thoughts. I bolted into the house, nearly breaking the door off it's tarnished brass hinges. I leapt up the stairs in what felt like a single fluid bound, turning a full ninety degrees to the left in a split second. I rushed into my room, skidding to a halt on the creaky old wood before the mirror that I had never actually cared to look in. I paused for a moment, praying to Celestia to see a good number like Rarity's sixty-three.
I looked at myself in the mirror that day for the third time I had ever done so in my life. I saw an orange mare with visible freckles on her cheeks and granny-smith green eyes staring back. I saw her blonde mane frazzled up this way and that. I saw her familiar hat slightly misaligned upon her head. But nowhere in that mirror was there a number. I stared at the image before me, blinking a few times to see if my eyes were wrong. I hoped they were wrong. I had never wanted to be more wrong in my life.
All I saw in the mirror was myself. I could not see how much time I had left, but I could see everypony else's. A strange... predicament. I couldn't call it a blessing because it was driving me mad, though I couldn't call it a curse because I could help ponies in immediate, life-threatening danger that most ponies would not see until too late. I looked back at the incident that had nearly taken my life that morning, and wondered if the hero had been able to see my time.
The familiar soft chime of the grandfather clock in the hall dragged me out of my musings, reminding me that I had a picnic to get to.
------
As I walked into the park, I was unnerved to find that the place was barren, save for the squirrels devouring acorns in the trees and the rabbits munching on the grass. I looked around, seeing the tables we'd use were abandoned. All was quiet, with seven clouds in the sky on that peaceful mid spring morning. I walked over to the wooden picnic table in the shade of a great oak, setting down my saddlebags which held my lunch. A slight, no, loud rustle above me turned my head skyward faster than Rainbow could ever hope to take off. As soon as the color pink registered in my mind, I sidestepped. I knew I'd be sorry if I didn't.
"Something's up, AJ," Pinkie half shouted accusingly. "You're not telling us something."
I facehoofed. Of course she knew. She knew everything. How she did it, I didn't bother asking.
"Us? As in," I said, louder and more sarcastically than was probably necessary, "the rest of y'all're here, too?"
To my surprise, Fluttershy poked her head out of the bushes first. Rarity stepped out from behind the tree, Twilight appeared from Celestia-knows-where with her fancy-schmancy magic, and Rainbow popped her head down from the tree.
"You've been acting strange, darling," Rarity piped in. "I asked if you were okay seven times, all of which remain unanswered. Then I asked why you were staring at my horn, and you said it was no big deal."
"I didn't think it was a big deal at the time. I'll tell y'all after we eat," I sighed, dismissing their concerns.
And so we ate, talking about our daily lives, what we'd been doing when we weren't hanging out, just the usual. It was nice. It was good to forget about those damned numbers for a little while. But like the delicious apple fritter I had eaten for lunch, it didn't last. Knowing that Pinkie was about to bring it up again, I decided it would be best to beat her to the punchline.
"Sixty-three, two hundred and ten, fifteen, ten, thirty-one," I blurted, looking at Rarity. I looked at Rainbow, reading off her number as I saw it, "Sixty, twenty-six, nineteen, fifty-seven, fifteen."
"I... don't follow..." Twilight interjected.
I looked to her, sighing her number, "Sixty-eight, three-hundred, ten, twenty-two, fifty-two."
Everypony was looking at me funny, but I ignored the stares. I turned to Pinkie, reciting her number as though I had known it all my life, "Seventy, eighty-seven, twelve, thirty, forty-one."
Fluttershy gasped as I turned to include her in all of this, "Sixty-eight, three-hundred, ten, fifty-six, fifty."
"What the hell, Applejack?" Rainbow near shouted. "What is going on?! Just lay it out for us!"
"Those are yer numbers," I continued, paying no mind to Rainbow's outburst.
"What numbers?" Twilight asked, genuine curiosity displayed upon her face.
I put it bluntly, "Time. Years, days, hours, minutes, seconds."
Upon seeing everyone's eyebrows rise an inch, I continued. "Yer time. How much y'all have left. Yer numbers are gradually sinkin' to zero. I can see yer clocks, float'n' above yer heads."
Twilight opened her jaw to say something, but closed it, as though she had forgotten it, or didn't know how to put it.
"Rarity. You saw how I got my sorry flank saved by that mystery stallion today at the market, right?" I asked. She simply nodded, unable to form words. "That's where I'll begin then."
I cleared my throat, summing up my past few hours' experiences. I spoke softly, so everyone would listen, "Today I was almost crushed by a fallin' piano. Lucky fer me, somepony was on his hooves, and flew over fast as Dash to shove me outta the way. But he warn't no pegasus. He caught the piano with magic, an' set it down. But he warn't no unicorn neither. He was an earth-pony like me. As tribute to his cutie mark, I've just been calling him the Hero. But he's not relevant at this point.
"When I finally was able to piece together what happened, that's when I started seein' the numbers. I saw Rarity's first. That's why I didn't answer ya, Rares. I was staring at yer number." Rarity nodded slightly, urging me to continue.
"At the time, it was sixty-three, two-hundred and ten, sixteen, thirty-seven, fifty-two. But time has passed, and yer number is a bit lower. But as I walked around, I noticed everypony's number. Elderly were low, young'uns higher up, and everywhere between. It was when I gave some water to Big Mac just a while ago when I realized that it was time that I was seein'."
I continued on, "Granny gave me a bucket of water to take to Big Mac. When I got there, he looked near dehydrated. He was sweatin' far too much, and he hadn't taken a break in what I could only guess was yesterday. When I got there, his number was lowerin' faster than everypony else's. After he drank the whole bucket, and the pitcher, his number had risen more than double what I had first seen. That's when I realized that it was time."
Everypony was silent. I noticed some young'uns running through the park, playing tag. An earth pony was running, looking back to see the pony chasing him. Above his head I saw a number descending rapidly from a proud eighty to a meager forty in but five seconds. Without even thinking about it, I jumped up, leaping forwards past Rainbow and Pinkie, galloping after the little pony. I sprinted harder than Dash could ever hope to, catching up to the pony with three-meter strides. Just as I neared him, I saw the Ponyville Cliff. That explains the number.
I reached out, grabbing him by the neck with my teeth, skidding to a halt before the cliff, a few pebbles falling to the chasm below. I released the poor colt's neck, letting him back away from the ledge in realization that he'd almost fallen off. I trotted away with out a word, just happy that the colt's number had returned to a proud eighty-two years. And as I trotted back to the girls, I wondered to myself if he could now see the numbers.
Only time will tell.
I was not proud, nor ashamed. I was not happy, nor sad, nor angry, nor scared. I was calm. I had seen the danger, if only because of the time hanging over his head. I had noticed when nopony else had. Had I not been there, that poor foal would not be alive today.
I had been just in time.
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Huh. So Twi and Shy are dying within half an hour of each other? (of course I would notice this...)
Now I'm wondering where you'll take this...
2384235
Oh crap. I forgot about that. Of course I didn't mark it complete. Oh well, now I get to write more of this amazingly fun story. Maybe a threeshot. :3
<3 DarqFox
2384252
I too find the fact that Shy's and Twi's time are so close to each other intriguing. Also, this was inspired by that Nickelback video, right? Can't recall the name of the song though
2384352
Very subtle TwiShy. But I won't be going into much detail because that isn't the focus of this story. But still. TwiShy.
2384371
Yes. It was. But I can't find it for the life of me. If you find it, I'll give you a moustache.
<3 DarqFox
2384539 Neat, TwiShy! Also, Nickelback's Savin' me
Now, how about that moustache?
2384371>>2384252 I haven't seen the video, but it sounds like 'If today was your last day' Assuming that it is Nickelback.
Also, you had better not have been planning to end here. This story has high chances of success, and that is no way to end a one-shot (unless you have a group of writers who plan to write each chapter after.)
2384539
You should go into detail though.
pwease?
2384549
And a yay as a bonus.
Moustache for you.
<3 DarqFox
2384549 I love dat song.
Based on the music video Savin Me isn't it?
2385461 2384690 2384557
Indeed. It somehow resurfaced itself in my mind, though I never remembered what it was, so I could never find it on Youtube. I will be doing more with this concept, though. Like what's Celestia's number? And why can't she see her own number?
Incoming in the next chapter. I might finish that by the time I go to bed. (Not sleep. Bed. There's a difference.)
<3 DarqFox
Thanks for all the faves and comments and likes and things.
You all make me want to keep writing. And write on, I shall! BACK TO WRITING NEXT CHAPTER! DARQFOX! HO!!!!!
2384579
Maybe. I'll think on it. This is more leaning towards an AJ ship. I'll make it fairly obvious in the next chapter.
TwiShy, dem numbers, but their so close, does that mean
2393969
Yes it does. Read on, brother.
<3 DarqFox
It's funny. When I heard the concept of seeing other people's numbers, I immediately thought of the shinigami eyes from Death Note. But it's still a pretty cool story concept!