Sepia Tock, Ponyville Clockmaker, and non-time lord, finds himself in an awkward situation
Sepia Tock, the clockmaker of Ponyville constantly being confused with the fictitious Doctor Whoof, finds himself in an awkward situation when he loses his closest friend.
Empty cider mugs lay abandoned, strewn about the apple field. The Flim-Flam brothers had quit town, and everypony had finished drinking the spoils of the competition, the celebration reaching early into the night. Now, crickets chirping softly, the ciderfest long over, all that was left to do was clean up.
“So, where will we be keeping the comically large hourglass?” Colgate asked, her magic levitating the hourglass into a straw-filled crate.
“It's not comically large.” Sepia answered defensively, as he tried to pull the posts of the hourglass's frame from the earth, “It's just large.” The clockmaker paused, “Well, maybe large and impressive.”
A bronze aura surrounded the frame, and it slid smoothly out of the ground, off Sepia's shoulders, floating into the awaiting crate. “Fine, where will we be keeping the impressively large hourglass?” Colgate asked as Sepia placed a lid on the top the crate and took up a hammer.
“Well, I suppose we could donate it to town hall.” Sepia answered after getting a nail in, “They could use it judge future events. Or as a paperweight. You can never be sure with the mayor.”
Colgate’s magic took over the hammer, letting Sepia go and prepare the wagon for transport. “So, you got a close look at the cider-matic 800, right?” She began work on a fourth nail, “How was it?”
“Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000.” Sepia corrected automatically, “It was certainly interesting. I mean, even if they did cheat a little bit.”
“Oh?” Colgate prompted as the hammer drove the final small metal spike.
“Yes, I mean, come on, magic?” Sepia continued, pushing the wagon next to the crate, “Real artisans don't need to rely on magic to do their job.”
The hammering ceased suddenly and Colgate lay the hammer carefully down on top of the box, leaving the last nail halfway in. “Really now?” Colgate loaded the question like a spring half a turn away from busting the entire assembly.
“Oh yes. Everypony knows that, Colgate.” Sepia, better at detecting an over-wound spring than over-wound ponies, replied casually, “Real ponies do their work with their hooves.” Sepia gave the statement a second thought, and amended, “Well, their mouths, too, I suppose.”
“So, during Hearth Warming Eve, do you just take a nap during the second act of the play?” Colgate asked, her anger beginning to leak from her control.
“No.” Sepia answered, baffled by the apparent shift in conversation topic, “Though to be fair, I haven’t been to the pageant for years, but the plot is rather…” He trailed off as Colgate pointedly stormed off. “Colgate, you okay?”
The blue unicorn did not answer as she walked pass the recently repaired fence post and went home.
Sepia blinked a couple times, and began using his head to push the crate to the wagon. Upon reaching the transport, he came to an awkward realization: he forgot to bring a loading ramp. He’d need Colgate to levitate the crate into the wagon with… her… magic…
Oh.
Well, hopefully she’d forgive him without too much of a fuss.
The resignation letter pinned to the store door was, admittedly, a bit fussier than Sepia had hoped would result from his faux pas. Addressing it to ‘The Doctor’ also rubbed sand in the glass cut. It was okay, Sepia told himself, he had managed by himself for years before he hired Colgate, and his father went his entire professional career without magical assistance. In fact, the worst perceivable hindrance is that he wouldn’t have an extra pair of hooves around to follow his instructions. So production would be a little slower; Sepia had more than enough stock to cover that minor problem.
He locked the door behind himself and went to bed. He just had to manage by himself as he waited for the unicorn to come to her senses.
The following morning an audience grew on Fillyton Street, in front of the clock store, enticed by the sounds of glass breaking, metallic components busting, and impolite language directed at stairs emanating from within. A ten minute lull hung briefly, after which a meek brown stallion carefully opened his front door, and walked out with a flyer hanging from his mouth, which he taped up onto the window:
Now Hiring:
Clockmaker Assistant
Temporary Position
Inquire within.
Time related knowledge a plus, but not required.
Must be able to carry things up and down stairs.
Sepia gave the crowd an irritated look, “Don’t you ponies have better things to do?”
The crowd awkwardly began to look in different directions, some whistling an aimless tune, while others became very interested in a wondering bug on the ground. One brave pony confessed, “No, not really.”
Sepia grumbled to himself, and went into his shop to wait for applicants.
Cloudchaser had waited patiently for her turn to be interviewed for the position outside the shop with the other interested ponies. When she was called in, she happily fluttered down into the basement workshop, where the brown stallion had repositioned one of his workbenches for use as an interviewer’s desk. “If you’ll take a seat, miss.” He said, indicating the empty stool on the other side of the work bench, and evened a pile of papers meaningfully. They were blank, but it made Sepia feel official.
“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” Cloudchaser said as she took a seat. Sepia took her application from the small pile to his left, and looked at it.
Sepia checked the form. “So, Cloudchaser, what qualities do you possess that makes you an ideal assistant?”
“Well, I have above average wing strength and power, I graduated top of my class from Ponyville public school, and I don’t spook easily.” Cloudchaser answered with pride, her wings flapping slowly with excitement.
Sepia nodded, “Right, right, all admirable traits. Do you have experience with complex machinery?”
“I’m afraid not.” Cloudchaser admitted, “However, I am willing to learn to use any tools required to best assist you!”
“That’s just the sort of enthusiasm I love to hear!” Sepia said encouragingly, “Here, I sometimes need to go and deliver stock or perform my duties in other towns. How do you feel about being responsible for either watching over the shop, or travelling far distances?”
“I am always eager to face a challenge.” The pegasus answered, “I don’t mind being far from home, or being entrusted with complicated, but vital tasks.”
Sepia chewed on the eraser of his pencil; time for the important part of the interview. “One more question, possibly the most important one: who am I?”
“You’re the Doctor.” Cloudchaser gasped, “Unless I’m not supposed to know that. What’s your alias again?”
Do not smack your forehead, Sepia. Just politely dismiss her, and move on. “Yea… no, please leave.” Close enough.
The rejected pegasus paused for a moment, then wordlessly stood up and began up the stairs.
“Oh, could you please send down the next applicant on your way out? Thank you!” Sepia called after her, and slid her application into a trash can. Thus far, every applicant thought the ‘help wanted’ sign was a clever ruse to select his next companion. He’d give anything for somepony rational.
He looked at the name on the next application as her hoofsteps echoed down the stairs. “Alright, Miss Lulamoon, if you’ll take a… oh, hi, Trixie.”
“Good morning, Sepia.” Trixie said, her every step laced with pure narcissism, “I am proud to announce your search is over, for your hero, Trixie, the GREAT and POW-“
“Yes, yes, I know who you are, Trixie.” Sepia interrupted her, his hoof already rubbing his forehead, “You don’t need to perform an introduction every time you enter a room.”
“But if I didn’t, how would ponies prepare themselves for the grandeur and marvel that is Trixie?”
“Yes, I suppose an ear plug warning is nice.” Sepia replied icily. The continuing friendship of the two always took a seemingly antagonistic tone, but Sepia did consider Trixie a friend nevertheless. “Why are you applying to replace Colgate, anyways?”
“Replace Colgate?” This astounded Trixie, “What happened to her?”
“I… may have accidentally offended her…” Sepia admitted reluctantly, “She kind of… quit....
Trixie merely quirked an inquisitive brow.
Sepia tried to turn the conversation back to Trixie and away from Colgate. “Anyways, don’t you have a traveling show? Why’re you applying here?”
Trixie shrugged, “It’s the off season.” She answered simply, “So I thought I might as well get a short-term job for the interim. Still have a few payments left on my caravan wagon.”
“Well, I suppose I can hire you until Colgate comes back.” Sepia conceded, “I mostly need somepony who can help me with managing the stock and store.”
“So, why exactly did Colgate quit?” Trixie asked, “I mean, she loved working here, it’s all she ever talked about. Sounds a little weird she’d just up and leave.”
“Well, I may have, inadvertently implied that, maybe, using magic wasn’t a method of real clockmakers…” Sepia admitted, diverting his eyes from the magician across from him.
Trixie sat silently.
The many ticks and tocks seemed to grow louder in the eternity as the two ponies sat there, Trixie giving Sepia a hard stare as he tried his best not to return her meaningful glare.
“While I appreciate the job offer,” Trixie said, slowly, “I’m afraid my accepting it may cause a conflict of interests.”
Sepia did his best to smile professionally, and failed utterly, “I thank you for considering it, though.” Sepia replied, “If you change your mind, I’m sure I could always use your help.”
“I don’t think it’s in the cards.” Trixie answered as she dismounted her stool, “I’ll see you around.” The unicorn took her leave.
With a heavy sigh, the lonely clockmaker gave the pile of applications a reluctant peek. He’d dug himself deep, Sepia knew, and nopony in that uncaring mound of woodpulp would help. Maybe he should just go and beg for Colgate’s forgiveness. He reluctantly walked up the stairs and headed to dismiss the waiting talent pool. He slowly nudged the door open.
Flyers were descending slowly from the heavens. The ponies gathered outside, including Cloudchaser and Trixie, all examined one each. Sepia dragged a flyer into his eyesight.
“‘Now open in the market square: Minuette’s Clock Stall, for all your Time Telling Needs.’” Sepia read aloud, “Who’s Minuette?”
Trixie return to giving the clockmaker an annoyed gaze, “Minuette would be Colgate’s actual name.” She answered, “Surely you knew that?”
“Of… of course I did.” Sepia lied. I might be a bad boss.
Fillyton Street began to reverberate in delight.
“Hey, finally, we’ve got a clockshop in town!”
“I have been meaning to get a watch for grandpa’s birthday!”
“About time a clockmaker moved in!”
“Oh come on!” Sepia shouted, unheard and unheeded. He pointed at the sign hung upon his building, but nopony paid any attention to the mad Time Lord making funny motions as they headed to investigate the exciting new merchant tent. After swallowing his rage at the general populace, Sepia joined the herd moving to the marketplace.
Colgate beamed to herself. It had been a good opening day. The sun was bright, and her future outshone it. It was rather surprising really. She’d only rented a stand for a day to try and make a point to Sepia, but it had become an unmitigated success. She already had sold everything she had made in her spare time at home, and orders for more were flooding in. Ponies lined up beyond her field of vision. Colgate expected to only make enough waves to be barely noticeable in the clockmaking world to get her mentor’s attention, and eventually a heartfelt apology and a raise. Now, such an event was becoming increasingly unappealing.
“Oh, real mature, Minuette.” Sepia said, his hooves on the counter before his former apprentice. He tried bore his stare into the blue unicorn.
“Excuse me sir, but it seems you’ve cut in front of me.” A meek voice said behind him.
“It’ll take a minute, miss.” Sepia said, giving the complainer a passive glance.
The yellow pegasus’s glare made it through the anger fogging Sepia’s mind, and he carefully made his way to the back of the line to politely wait his turn and calm down.
“Hello, Sepia!” Colgate greeted him once he returned to the front.
“Look, I’m sorry I offended you, I wasn’t really thinking.” Sepia began, “I didn’t mean to imply you were in any way inferior. Please come back, I need you.”
Colgate studied the brown earth pony, his eyes wavering, begging to be forgiven. Then she studied her over-stuffed cashbox and order sheet, hidden discreetly under her folding table. She had only one word: “No.”
A cold wind blew between the two, a change in the balance of the universe duly marked and acknowledged.
“Oh.” Sepia said. “Fine then,” he added after a thought, “So be it, Minuette. I appreciated the years we have worked together, but I guess it’s time for us to mutually move on with our respective careers.”
“I agree.” Colgate answered, “Thank you, Sepia, I will look back upon our time together fondly.”
The two rival clockmakers nodded to each other, igniting the unspoken rivalry. “Good luck, Miss Minuette.” Sepia left behind Colgate to attend to her customers.
Unfortunately, no rain was scheduled for the day, so the scene was left unpunctuated.
The three certainly were eager, Sepia had to admit, and they declined payment, though he was rethinking allowing the Crusaders to work for him.
“We have a ladder over there, Sweetie Bell.” Sepia pointed to the corner that housed the equipment as he deposited a broom and box for the young unicorn, “Next time, feel free to use it.”
“Sorry.” Sweetie apologized before she took up the broom to recollect the fallen clocks and watches.
“Just be more careful.” Sepia told her, and then went to check on the other two, “How’s the flyer coming?”
Scootaloo held up her Rainbow Dash fan art.
“First of all: the paints are running together, you’ll either need to use a thinner brush, or paint on a larger scale. Second: how will help bring in customers?”
“Well, Rainbow Dash is awesome, so anything associated with her much be cool by relation.” Scootaloo explained her logic.
“Okay, okay, I follow you’re logic. However, we don’t actually have her here, so that’s a little dishonest.” Sepia explained, then called down into the basement workshop, “Apple Bloom you making any progress with those simple clocks I left you?”
“Well, ah got a little distracted evening out these workbench legs.”
Sepia heaved a sigh, “Alright, I’m going out for a little while.” Sepia explained to his little assistants, “I want the three of you to just sit here, behind the sales counter, and tell anyone who comes in that we’re closed, and that I’ll be back in, say ten minutes. Can you do that for me?”
The two present fillies nodded acknowledgement.
“Alright, I’ll be back soon.”
“I challenge you to a duel!”
“Hello again, Sepia.” Colgate greeted him. Today she had managed to prepare enough clocks keep some around as examples for customers to order. “May I inquire what the terms of this duel are?”
“If I win, you will return and be my assistant again.” Sepia answered.
“And when I win?” Colgate put a little more confidence into her reply than she intended, but it was too late to retract it.
“I’ll give you my store.” Sepia answered without a second thought.
A hush fell upon the marketplace.
“You’re joking.”
“Never.”
A chill tingled down Colgate’s spine, “But then what will you do if you don’t have the store?”
Sepia shrugged, “Buy a caravan and travel Equestria. The hypotheticals don’t matter.”
“What sort of duel are we talking about here?” Colgate asked, discomforted by the intensity of Sepia’s expression.
“Clockmaking, of course. Construction, sale, and performance of our work.” Sepia answered, “What better challenge?”
“How will we judge this?” Colgate asked. She was hoping that some reason not to rise to the challenge would present itself.
“A panel of our peers, as overseen by an unbiased official.” Sepia had had plenty of time to think on the walk to the marketplace. “I’ll rent a tent of my own, and send out invites to appropriate ponies as soon as you give the word.”
“Excellent.” Sepia smiled, “I think next week should be enough to time to make the arrangements.”
“Sounds good.” Colgate nodded.
“See you in a week, Minuette!” Sepia turned and began to trek back to take command back over his store.
“Excuse me, Colgate?” Trixie carefully approached her, levitating a resume, “I was wonder if you might need an assistant.”
Sepia stomped over and gave the magician a hard glare, leaning a centimeter from her eye. “Et tu, Trixie? Et tu?”
“Don’t you have a clockmaking duel to prepare for?” Trixie asked him.
Sepia maintained his glare as he slowly backed away, until he stumbled over a bushel of apples, righted himself, apologized profusely to Big Macintosh, awkwardly checked around, gave one last shot of stink eye at Trixie, and ran off.
“Is… is he feeling okay?” Trixie asked Colgate.
Colgate shrugged.
“Hello, Doctor!” Derpy announced, “You feeling okay?” She added, noticing his disheveled hair.
“Sepia Tock, Derpy, Sepia.” He corrected her automatically, “And I feel fantastic. I would like to mail these.” He took a bundle of envelopes from his saddle bag and deposited them on the counter, and tried to ignore that his eye seemed to be twitching.
The mailmare took the letters, and let out a shrill whistle, “Wow, these go all over the place!”
Sepia puffed up his chest, “Yes, well, I can only have only the best to judge my and Colgate… I mean, Minuette’s contest!”
Derpy began to sort them, and checked the price sheet, “That’ll be twenty-seven bits together.” She said, then beamed at the rolled up scroll, “Hey! I always like when I’m delivering these! She always gives me the best muffins!”
Sepia’s eye kept twitching. When did that start? He wondered, “I’m sure she does. Make sure to say hi to the Duchess, Felicity, and the Brigadier-General for me.”
Derpy carefully slid the scroll into the Canterlot cubby, “It’s Major-General now, actually.” She said conversationally, “He got promoted lost month… Doctor?”
The Clockmaker had already gone, leaving the payment behind. He had to get ready.
The Ponyville marketplace was abuzz. Doctor Whoof was up to something wacky, and royalty was in attendance.
Sepia still hadn't kicked the twitch he seemed to have developed, but it was in perfect synch with the beat of a second hand, so it had its uses. He gave Colgate a big, confidant smile from his rented tent across the way from hers.
“Sweet Celestia, he looks like he's going to stab somepony,” Trixie whispered to her new employer.
“I'm... sure he's fine?” Colgate replied with no confidence in what she was saying, “Age is probably taking its toll, or something...”
Sepia just kept beaming his confidence. He'll show her. He'll show everypony.
“He's cackling, Colgate.” Trixie resisted the urge to hide under the sales counter, “My granny warned me to watch out for cackling.”
“He's not cackling, he's just... stressed. Don't worry about it,” Colgate answered as Sepia began to giggle to himself. “Besides,” The toothpaste-maned unicorn added after a thought, “He's an Earth pony. You only need to watch for cackling in unicorns.” Nevertheless, Colgate decided it best to avoid the Clockmaker's gaze.
“Trixie will prepare a few defensive spells nevertheless.”
“That may be for the best.”
Synchronome and Tinker Chime stood at the judge’s table while the Mayor and Twilight rushed to and fro to prepare for this latest impromptu contest. “Had nothing better to do this weekend either, huh, Tinks?” Synchronome asked with his smirk.
“Are you kidding?” The red unicorn with purple swirl-mane replied, “Both Luna and Soarin are going to be hosting. No way I’d miss it.”
“Oh, yes, I forget how awesome such things are to you non-Canterlot ponies.” Synch smirked in a jovial manner, “Personally, such appearances are pretty blasé.”
Tinker merely squinted at the blond-maned pony.
“Hello, everypony!” The third judge announced as she fluttered in, “I’m not late, am I? I so hope not. I left so extra early, but then there was this new lotus-themed restaurant opening in Cloudsdale, and I was really excited to give it a try, but there was this long line, and then I got in, and the meal was so good, and I got a second helping, and then that turned into a third, and that turned into a fourth…”
Synch and Tinker gave the yellow-orange pegasus even stares. “Good evening, Miss Cuckoo,” Synch said with a nod, “Did you perhaps bring Lordyhour with you?”
Cloud Cuckoo’s ramble halted as she searched her memory, “Um… no, I think he’s busy working on a book or something… or, wait, was it something about his eye… anyways, he couldn’t make it.”
“His loss,” Tinker replied, “This in turning into quite the event.”
A hush fell as the masters of ceremony took their position between the two clock merchant stalls.
“Citizens of Ponyville!” Luna projected masterfully, “I, your princess of the moon, have come to reign over this clockmaking duel!”
“Same here.” Soarin added, “Except the whole princess of the moon bit. Just Soarin. Of the Wonderbolts.”
The captive audience cheered heartily.
Luna levitated a few cue cards before Soarin, who read from them, “This clock-crafting duel shall be in three parts, as agreed upon by the participants. The first task is to build one hourglass, one clock, and one timepiece of the contestant's choosing. The second portion,” Soarin paused as the princess shifted cards, “will be a race to repair a clock first. Finally, both ponies will have to attempt to make a successful sale.”
“Art the contestants ready?” Luna asked, a gleam in her eye.
Sepia's answered was muffled within crazed giggling.
“I... suppose so?” Colgate answered as she gave a wary eye to Sepia, “Worried, but ready...”
“Are the judges ready?” Luna continued.
The judges, armed with clipboards, nodded.
The moon princess held aloof her front hooves, “Then begin!”
At this cry, Colgate and Sepia began their constructions, and the ponies crowded about to watch.
“If I may ask, Princess,” Soarin turned to Luna, “why do you act as an announcer so often? I know you’re our commentator at the Thunderbolt Racetrack, and now you’re here.”
“That’s, easy, Soarin!” Luna said with a smile, “It lets us attend such functions for free.”
Soarin mulled this explanation over as a he monitored the two clockmakers. Colgate was magicing together a simple clock, while Sepia had started up a kiln and began on his trademark ware. “But, you’re a princess.” Soarin finally said, “Can’t you just go and watch whatever you want, when you want?”
“A good leader, or pony for that matter, does not take what one has not earned.” Luna answered. “Besides, I find doing commentary most enlivening,” she added with a wink.
Synch, feeling it his duty, wandered over to Colgate, who had completed her clock and was beginning an hourglass. “Good day, Miss Minuette.” He said, “I see your constructions are coming along nicely.”
“Hello, Synchronome.” Colgate greeted him, “Anything I can do for you?”
“Just thought I’d come by and examine your technique.” Synch answered with a shrug, and then moved on to the topic bothering him, “So, what exactly did Tock do to warrant your departure? Was it all the whining about Doctor Whoof? I know that’s always driven him batty.”
Colgate shook her head, as she began to install the hourglass’s pinch, “Nothing like that. Just felt it was time to move on. Find my own way.”
“Ah yes, I suppose such time comes for all ponies,” Synch agreed with a nod, “Though, I don’t believe I had to battle my teacher when I decided to move on.” Colgate tried to smile through the urge to vent. “We merely exchanged back pats, final bits of advice, and well wishes. Then again, I also suppose Tock had a flair for drama.”
Colgate couldn’t restrain herself any further, “He said my magic was cheating.” She exclaimed, “He thinks I’m less talented, just because I happen to own a horn!”
Synch tried to nod politely, “Ah, yes, I can see how that would…”
“And he doesn’t even know my name’s Minuette! Did he seriously think my name was Colgate the whole time! And what’s with that twitch of his! He keeps smirking at me, eye beating the seconds!”
“Miss Minuette,” Synch interrupted pointedly, “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but you’ve put eight pinches in that thing, and it’s beginning to look like the lifetimer of Wince Wind the Untalented! Please, do not let me distract you any further.”
Synch nodded, then decided to extend a metaphoric hoof. “Look, I know it may have hurt your feelings, but perhaps you shouldn’t hold whatever Tock said about magic against him. He’s an Earth Pony artesian, after all. We have to make up for the advantages unicorns and pegasii hold over us.” Synch told her, “Sometimes, it’s easier if we hold the methods we lack access to as not true craftsmanship. Candy-makers hold pride in their callused, speech-impeding tongues, and potters their mud-caked hooves.” Synch gave her another nod, and began to leave, then decided to say one last thing, “Also, did you ever tell Tock your name? He may be a jumbled mess of nerves, but he’d never forget such a thing if he knew it.”
Colgate paused as she began to re-heat and shape the glass. She did recall, faintly, introducing herself as Colgate to him, as it was the nickname her parents referred to her as a filly. It also seemed less stuffy at the time. “I’m sure it must have come up.”
“Yes, I suppose in all those years you two shared, you must have discussed it.” Synch agreed, “Now, Miss Minuette, if you don’t mind, it looks like Cuckoo’s found an interesting cloud again. I must endeavor to retrieve her. See you when you’re finished.”
“Yes, thank you, Synch.” Colgate waved good-bye. She sighed, and left the glass to cool.
A couple hours later, the clocks were finished and carefully arranged on the counters of the sales tents. With the flip of a bit off Soarin’s wing, Colgate was determined to be the first to be evaluated.
“All right, Colgate, mind taking us through your work here?’ prompted Tinker as the audience clustered around. Sepia was closely examining the hourglass before being gently, if gruffly, pushed out of the way by Synchronome.
“Well, I decided, for the hourglass, to use ground up egg shells, and attempted to use a combination of magic and glass blowing to make the bulbs.” Colgate pointed to the, unfortunately, slightly misshapen hourglass.
“You let your nerves overwhelm you.” Sepia said, having snuck back over, in the tone of a concerned mentor. Some habits die hard. “You shouldn’t have started work on it until you could’ve kept the pipe steady.”
“Hush you,” Synch said to the brown pony, “and leave the judging to the judges.”
“He’s right.” Tinker admitted, “She shouldn’t have let her old boss worry her.”
Cuckoo gently turned over the hourglass, “Well, I think it’s very pretty! If a tad too fast…”
“Right, so the hourglass is a failure.” Synch summarized, in hopes of moving on, “What about your clock?”
Colgate turned to the small, ornate mantelpiece. “For this one, I thought I’d insert three complications: an alarm, a gear train to allow striking of the hour, and a repeater.”
“May I?” Tinker asked and, with a nod from the clock’s maker, pressed a button mounted on the top.
Bong-Bong ding!
Synch checked his personal watch, famous for being as close to perfect as a mortal pony can make, and nodded, “Two sixteen. Very good, Miss Minuette, it would seem you didn’t mess this one up.”
“She could’ve done a minute repeater.” Sepia said from his position behind the judges, “Her minute repeaters are good.”
“I didn’t have time to construct one.” Colgate answered, “Wait, why am I trying to validate myself to you? I did perfectly fine!”
“Hey, Mister Twitchy-eye, perhaps you should wait by your own entries?” Soarin suggested carefully.
“But I haven’t even commented on her watch yet! She only put an alarm and a single repeater in that one!” Sepia answered, exasperated, and then was carefully lifted away by Luna’s magic, and placed at his tent.
“I notice you used a glass face for this.” Tinker said, “It’s very lovely.”
“Yes, I thought, since it was being judged by masters, such as yourselves, you’d appreciate being able to see inside. I was inspired by… a very interesting piece I saw some time ago…”
The judges wrote there final evaluation onto their clipboards. “Thank you, Miss Minuette. Now, let’s see what Mr. Tock has for us.”
“Yes, yes.” Sepia said as they came over, and then quickly flipped his hourglass to show it was in proper working order, “This is my hourglass, I used the old pipe and spin method for the bulb, and filled it with marble sand. Isn’t it pretty.”
The judges nodded, agreeing that is was, indeed, very pretty.
“Here’s my clock. It’s complications include an alarm, decimal repeater, and moon phases. Now, for my personal choice…”
“Why does your clock have two faces on it?” Tinker interrupted, looking closer at the clock.
“It has a face, within a face!” Cuckoo exclaimed, “How weird.”
“Oh, yes, that’s the face for the hour hand. It goes from one to twenty-hour, presenting the exact time. I found it necessary.” Sepia answered dismissively, “Anyways, this other clock…”
“Wait, you’ve designed and built a twenty-four hour clock?” Synch interrupted.
“Yes, I did. Whatever, can we move on? I want to show you the flip-clock. It also does twenty-four hours, and displays the time in binary numbers. I learned the method from…” Sepia paused, “A very charitable craftspony in Manehatten. The minute and hour flip over to show the next number in the sequence. I included an alarm. Had I a little more time I… will you look at my flip clock?!”
“It’s marvelous.” Cuckoo cooed over the first, dual-faced clock.
Sepia won the first round.
“Round two: clock repair!” Luna exclaimed happily, “Judges, please prepare the clocks!”
“I’ve always wanted to do this.” Tinker said to himself as he and Synch walked up to a pair of clocks, set carefully atop a table. Cuckoo hovered a short distance away, holding up a large dart board.
“On your mark, Tinker,” Synch said, turning around to face away from the clock.
“Whoever gets the closest to the bulls-eye gets a shake on the loser’s bit,” Tinker said.
“Deal.”
Tinker cleared his throat, “One… two… three… BUCK!”
The two clocks went sailing as they were struck by the powerful kicks of the two. Neither clock came close to Cuckoo, though.
Synch smirked, “Mine got closest.”
“Alright, I get you your drink when we’re done here,” Tinker conceded. “Let’s get the clocks.”
Sepia looked at the ruined clock he was given. “Well, obviously it’s going to need new casing. The springs snapped, and I think it’s missing a few cogs…”
He took out his tools, laid them out, picked up a pair of tweezers, and began to carefully rethread the present gears with one another, all along keeping mental track of what was left to be done in the name of speedy repair. “I’ll just have to remove the alarm.” He noted, “It’ll just slow me down.”
“Done” Colgate announced as she set down her own repaired clock, the magic aura fading away.
“Wait, give me a minute!” Sepia said, dropping his tweezers, “I’ve barely started!”
“Welp, that’s unfortunate for you, Sepia,” Synch said, picking up the clock in his hoof, and giving it a light shake. “Fortunately for Miss Minuette, though, seems she set a time you just wouldn’t be able to match. Round two goes to the apprentice.”
Sepia struggled to find words, as his twitch spread to his ear. “Find, I concede the round! Let’s move on already!”
“Uh…” Soarin began, “Would you, maybe, like to take a short break before the final round, buddy?”
“No, final round, let’s do it!” Sepia barked.
“I… think Soarin’s right.” Tinker agreed with the Wonderbolt, “Just a few minutes, maybe get lunch?”
Sepia scowled, both ears now alternating a beat. You could’ve kept tempo with them, as the eye kept the seconds, and his mane becoming increasingly frazzled. “Sales, right? That’s the last portion? Let’s do it.”
Synch shrugged, “I vote we proceed then. Might as well.”
“Excellent. Somepony lay out the guidelines!”
“Alright,” Soarin stepped forward again. Knowing there was no way to avert the oncoming disaster, he decided he might as well try to minimize damage, “We’ll select a random third party, and both contestants will have to make a successful sale to them.”
Sepia chortled, “Yes, greet, good find the customer.”
“Ooh, ooh! That one, that one! Sell to him!” Cuckoo chirped from the sky, pointing at a dull blue unicorn, his messy gray mane barely viewable over the book he was entranced with.
“Done!” Sepia said, and began to race to the poor victim.
The officials watched as his dust faded away. “Colgate?” Soarin looked to the blue unicorn, “Any objections?”
“None that’d matter at this point.” Colgate answered, “Though, perhaps, somepony should make sure Sepia doesn’t hurt anypony.”
Page Turner was having a pleasant day. He’d started out at the library, picked up a few new books, and now just needed a little lunch. Things were about to turn though.
“Hello there!” Sepia said, poking over the unicorn’s book, “How’re you doing today?”
Page Turner opened his mouth to speak.
“That’s great, great!” Sepia preempted him, “Say, you look like a busy stallion, constantly on the go, places to be. You know what you need, a clock!”
This was true, the unicorn’s old clock was getting old and out of shape, but this odd twitchy mess before him didn’t look entirely trustworthy.
“Just come on over to my tent, I have lots of clocks. Plenty of them! All sorts!”
Surely enough, Sepia did have plenty of clocks in his tent, ostensibly for sale. There were wall clocks, mantelpieces, watches, a few hourglasses, all for very good prices.
“So, sir, what may I get for you?” The clockmaker asked between convulsions of the eyelid.
The prospective customer looked at the seller of these wares: frazzled, ill-kept mane, twitchy and worried looking eyes, obvious fake grin. Something just wasn’t right in the state of Manemark. “What’s the catch?” Page Turner finally said.
“What’d you mean, catch? There’s no catch! Just some quality clocks, at good, craftspony prices!” Wince, wince.
“Well, sure, but what’s wrong with them?” The unicorn went on, “Will they turn my hoof green? Catch fire in sunlight? Fail to ring when I set the alarm?”
“What? No! Celestia, no, don’t be absurd!” Sepia said, “How dare you question me! I’ll have you know that you’ll find no better maker and seller of clocks than I!”
“Wait a… aren’t you Doctor…”
“No.” Sepia said firmly, “I am but a peddler, trying to sell you a clock.”
The unicorn backed away, “Well, thanks, but I think it’d be best if I took my business elsewhere, sir.” With that, Page Turner turned around, “Ooh, nice clocks!”
“Uh, thanks?” Colgate said, looking more than little perplexed, “Do you… want one?”
“Sure do! How much?”
“Eight bits?” Colgate suggested, not sure how to handle the sudden business.
“Have ten!” Page Turner said as he magiced the payment onto the counter and picked up his purchase then trotted off.
The collected ponies just stared a little bit. Sepia finally stopped fidgeting his ears, and his eye slowly lost its beat.
“We do believe,” Luna finally said after the awkward pause, “that this means Colgate is the victor, yes?”
“Yes. Yes it does.” Synch answered.
Cuckoo gave Colgate a sudden hug, “Woo! You go, girl!”
“Perhaps a do over?” Colgate suggested, the only pony looking to Sepia, who had a distant look in his eyes.
“Don’t be silly.” Tinker said, “You won fair and square.”
Colgate tried her best to smile, “Yep, sure did. Woopee.”
Inside Sepia’s head, a few cogs meshed together, and a small chime rang. He, too, tried his best to smile as he trotted over to the winner’s sales-tent, and dropped a pair of keys onto her counter. “Congratulations, Col- Minuette. I am proud of you,” he said, “You truly have ascended beyond. As promised, the keys to the shop,” Sepia nudged the keys forward half-a-hoof, “I wish you luck, and a happy life.”
Colgate looked at the keys, “Sepia, you don’t…”
“A deal’s a deal. You won my petty contest, you get the store.” Sepia told her in no uncertain terms, “Now, if you all don’t mind, I have a few matters to attend to.”
Sepia Tock walked away.
“Pfft, what a drama-queen,” Synch said with a roll of his eyes, and was met by the dissatisfied scowl of Colgate.
Soarin looked around small group. “Uh… I’ll be back in just a moment myself.”
Sepia was having difficulty with the screws, but he nearly had the door off.
“What’re you doing?”
Sepia turned to the confused face of the Wonderbolt.
“Well, I figured, since the door was my reward for that whole Ragged Rocks incident, perhaps I could keep it,” Sepia answered. “Besides, the one on my new wagon is so bland, and I’ll need all the attention I can get.”
“You’re seriously going to pack everything up and just leave?’ Soarin asked, “I’d call you a featherbrain, but even feathers have sense!”
“Hey, what am I really leaving?” Sepia said with what he hoped was a jovial smile, “Just an apprentice who no longer needs me, an old dusty store, and a town who wants me to be some pony else.”
“Sepia, I can’t just stand by and watch you abandon everything.” Soarin said.
“Fair enough,” Sepia answered, “why don’t you go stand by Colgate then? She has a new store, she’ll need help setting it up. Especially now some madpony has gone and stolen the front door.”
Soarin tried to conjure up more reasoning, but was dashed by the determination in Sepia’s eyes. “Well, if that’s really your intent, Sepia.”
“It really is.”
The two smiled. “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Sepia.”
“You too.”
Later that day, Colgate came to assess her new real estate. The door was missing, but she never questioned it. Instead, she sent Trixie off to order a new one as she took a seat behind the counter.
The day of the grand reopening, like the days before it, began with the worst possible wake-up call: a shop full of clocks simultaneously activating their alarms. "I'll never get used to this,” a groggy Colgate said into her pillow. Eventually, she was forced to surrender to the will of bells, chimes, and buzzers, and arose to start the day.
She carefully descended the stairs as she ate an apple, and walked to the wall of alarm clocks, her bronze magic aura surrounding the clocks one by one, switching off the ones functioning properly, and moving the dysfunctional clocks to the side as she walked towards the entrance, until, all clocks inspected and deactivated, she flipped the sign to “Open” and unlocked the door. She stifled a yawn as she went to get some coffee cake she had in the kitchen, then took a seat behind the sales counter, the fork methodically transporting bites from plate to mouth.
The silver bell signaled the arrival of the mailmare. “Mmm mph mm, mm-mph!”
“Morning, Ditzy.” Colgate greeted.
“Derpy.” The mailmare corrected automatically after she deposited the pile of letters, “Say, where’s the Doctor?”
Colgate shrugged, “Oh, he’s probably out wandering Equestria, doing what he does.”
“That’s nice of him!” Derpy said with a beaming smile, “Well, have a good day, Colgate!”
“Wait!” Colgate said. It had been a lonely few days, filling out paperwork to take over the business and perform minor renovations. Trixie had been present, sure, but you can’t really talk with Trixie. “Would you like a muffin?” The unicorn offered.
Derpy considered, “Nah, I’m not really in a muffin mood today, and I’m falling behind. See you later!” With that, the mailmare left, leaving behind only the gently tinkle of the bell. Colgate finished her breakfast,turned to look at one of the many clocks, and began to count under her breath. “Three… Two… One…”
“Have no fear! Trixie, your Great and Powerful assistant, is here!”
Trixie was certainly punctual if nothing else. “Good morning, Trixie.” Colgate replied softly, “You don’t need to say that every time you come in, you know.”
“Bah, you’re just jealous of the copious amount of style Trixie puts into even the most boring of actions.”
Colgate merely rolled her eyes. “Could you please move the broken clocks down to the workshop while you boast?”
“Trixie does not boast!” the mage said as she took up the three clocks that had failed the alarm test, trotting past Colgate, “She merely explains herself in the best possible terms.”
Colgate listened as the hoofsteps faded downward. “While you’re down there, mind sweeping up around the eggshell bags?” she called downwards. Trixie replied in the affirmative, and Colgate continued to stare at the door.
“So, I figured, what better way to cut down on the chatter than to give a time limit?” Merry May explained as she entered the shop with Blossomforth.
“But I like the chatter.” Blossomforth replied, “Airheart’s jokes are what make combat bearable!”
“Yes, but when you each take half-an-hour, on average, to declare your actions, it gets kind of annoying.” Merry May answered.
“It doesn’t take us half-an-hour,” said Blossomforth, defensively, “And I’m playing a unicorn sorceress! It takes a while to look up spells!”
“Hello, girls!” Colgate greeted the two, waving her hoof.
The two pegasi froze, and stared at her in wonder.
Colgate kept her friendly smile.
The two kept staring.
Colgate’s smile slowly turned from genuine to awkwardly forced.
“By Celestia’s cake kitchens, the doctor regenerated.” Blossomforth whispered to her friend.
Colgate was taken aback, “I’m sorry, what?”
“Into a filly? That can’t be right,” Merry May answered.
“I-I’m not the Doctor,” Colgate said with bafflement.
“What’s wrong with the Doctor regenerating into a mare?” Blossomforth gave the Game Master pony a suspicious look.
“Honestly, I’m just a unicorn.” Colgate continued, unheeded.
“I don’t know,” Merry May moved her head vaguely, “it just doesn’t seem quite right. Other Time Ponies, sure, but not the Doctor.”
“That’s sexist!”
“No, it’s reasonable!”
“Girls?” Colgate asked.
“Then what’s the reason?”
“Girls.” Colgate pleaded
Merry May shrugged, “Beyond me! It’s ineffable!”
“Oh, you don’t want the Doctor to be a filly because than you wouldn’t be able to-”
“Excuse me!” shouted Colgate, who knew she was neither now nor ever was The Doctor, “Look, first off, I am not Doctor Whoof, he’s just moved away. Second off, who you thought was the Doctor wasn’t actually the Doctor. Now, what can I help you with?”
The two fillies, argument interrupted, glanced between each other. “Uh, I was wondering if you made an hourglass that only does five minutes at a time?”
Colgate nodded. “Indeed I do. We also have ten-minute and half-hour increments, if you’re interested.”
Merry May considered these options, “Yes, those would be nice.”
Colgate helped pick out the products, and rang up the bill, accepted the bits, and sent the two on their way.
“So, what do you think her new code name is?” Blossomforth asked as they began to leave, “I mean, it was Colt Smith before, right?”
“No, it was Time Turner before,” Merry May answered, “Colt Smith just sounds dumb.”
Then Colgate was left to her bewilderment. She’d known them both for years! Tartarus, she once even sat in on one of their Courseseeker sessions! How could they confuse her for… Colgate shook it off. It was just one incident. It didn’t necessarily mean anything worrying. It was just two random ponies after all.
It wasn’t like it would spread.
The phone rang.
“Trixie, can you get that?” Colgate asked the unicorn as she came up from the workshop.
Trixie, grumbling slightly, went to do as she was told. “It’s the mayor,” she said after taking the call and hanging up, “She broke her clock, and wants somepony to fix it.”
“Can you handle the store while I’m out?” Colgate asked as she took up a saddlebag with tools, “Just charge what’s on the tag, and don’t haggle.”
“What sort of foal do you take me for?”
Colgate pointed at the magician as she backed out the door, “No haggling.”
“Fine,” sighed Trixie.
Ponies shuffled aside as she walked forth, whispering amongst themselves.
“Is that who I think it is?”
“What’s she up to?”
“Can’t be too important, she’s not running-”
“Good grief! Lyra and I are just good friends.”
“Does she have her screwdriver?”
“Where’s her box?”
Some stole glances, some subtler than others, while others pointedly kept their eyes away. Here and there, stories of Doctor Whoof began to slide from the tongues of ponies to the ears of their friends. This was all rather peculiar to Colgate as she made her way to town hall. From the corner of her eye, she saw a young filly get pushed to her side.
“Uh… excuse me?” The small yellow filly said once she found her nerve.
“Yes?’ Colgate asked with a kind a smile.
“I… was just wondering…” The filly began, tapping her hooves together slowly, “If you need a companion, Doctor, ma’am.”
No. Colgate thought. This is not happening. Not to me. Colgate backed away from the prospective Companion as she said, “Sorry, Sunny Daze, but you’re far too young for such things.” Then, realizing it might be important to note, “Also, I am not Doctor Whoof. Now if you don’t mind, I’m late, and I really need to run.”
As she fled, Colgate could hear Sunny Daze return to her friends cheering, “She knew my name! The Doctor knew my name!”
“Oooh!” The two other foals oohed. “You must be important!” one of them said.
“For goodness sakes, I helped with your talent show act!” Colgate gave one last attempt to invoke reason before she finally galloped off.
“Madam Mayor, Doctor Whoof to see you.”
“No!” Colgate, twitching eye keeping perfect time, said as she entered, “I am not the Doctor.”
“Oh, right, Time Turner.” The secretary said with a wink, and left.
Colgate looked to the Mayor. “You remember me, right? Minuette? Colgate? Lived here for years?”
“Yes, yes, come in, Colgate.” The Mayor said, confused at the need for recognition, “You’re the Doctor’s companion, right?”
“Sepia’s apprentice,” Colgate corrected, then re-corrected, “Former apprentice. I own the clock store now.”
“Oh, good for you, dear!” The mayor said cheerily, “About time the Doc stopped pretending he was the talent there, eh?”
“Yes, sure. Now, about your clock?” The Mayor pointed, and Colgate set to work, placing the clock on a nearby table and opening the back. She donned her magnifier lens and checked the intricate mechanizations. “So, what’s the problem?” she asked.
“It’s been running slow again,” answered the mayor as she poured over the Winter Wrap-up preparation files, “It’s been losing a minute a day.”
Colgate examined the inner designs, “Ah, yes, looks like the spring’s been over stretched,” she observed, “it’ll need to be replaced.”
“So, another month without a clock then?” the mayor asked with complete sincerity.
Colgate opened her saddle bag and pulled out a new spring, “No, it’ll just take a moment. I suspected this’d be the case. I suggest you instruct your secretary to stop winding it as often so the spring lasts longer,” she instructed as her magic made quick work of the repair.
The mayor made a note and tapped it to the clock, “How much do I owe you this time, dear?”
“Eight bits,” Colgate answered, and then accepted her payment with a nod, and began to leave.
The secretary waved as Colgate left, “See you around, Doctor!”
Colgate tried her best not to hear.
“Come one, come all, to Minuette’s Timepiece Shoppe! Home to the greatest clocks money can buy!” Trixie shilled as Colgate returned, “We have wall clocks, mantelpieces, watches, and more! All your time telling needs all under one roof!”
“Trixie, what’re you doing?” Colgate asked.
“Trixie merely is trying her best to distinguish our great store from our humdrum competitors,” Trixie answered and preached to passersby at once.
“Trixie,” Colgate said in a reasonable tone, “this is the only clock shop in town. Our nearest competitor is in Canterlot.”
“Yes, and wouldn’t it be a shame if some foolish pony decided to go all the way there for a dull, sub-quality hack job?”
“Yes, considering they’d have to pay train fare just to get to Synchronome’s,” Colgate replied, “Also, where did you get that stage you’re standing on?”
Trixie automatically looked down at the platform she was standing on, set up in front of her workplace. “A performer is always prepared,” she answered simply.
“Trixie, will you please go inside before you scare off any more customers?”
“Scare off customers, you say? Please, while I, Trixie, have been standing here, ponies have purchased more than half your current stock. Trixie was afraid she’d have the entire store emptied before you returned, and would be forced to find other purposes for this stage.”
Colgate froze at the front door. “Trixie, you didn’t haggle, did you?”
“Well, of course I did!” Trixie replied, “How could Trixie not exploit her amazing charisma to our mutual benefit?”
Colgate didn’t even bother to get angry and instead rushed inside to cheat the economic damage. “Did you at least have the decency to write down the transactions?”
“Of course I did, I’m not stupid,” Trixie replied, following in after Colgate, “Though, I must say, the ledger is a mess of loose pages, wayward tabs, and what appears to be notes on some sort of odd lamp and clock crossbreed.”
“It’s an oil-lamp clock,” Colgate said offhoofedly as she examined the ledger, “Sepia designed it one night when he was supposed to be balancing this thing.”
“Anyways, Trixie was forced to give up on it, so she just wrote the item number and its final sale price down on this sheet of paper,” the magician said as she levitated the mentioned record to Colgate, who cross examined it with the production records to find, to her amazement, that Trixie had managed to double the overall profits.
“Of course!” Trixie said with her chest puffed up when Colgate mentioned it, “Trixie is nothing if not manipulative and devious!”
“Yet she finds herself working here…” Colgate murmured to herself as she attempted to translate Trixie’s record into the ledger, then gave up and just stuffed the paper between the appropriate pages. “Right,” Colgate said as she put the ledger into the counter safe, “since you managed to devastate the amount of inventory, I suppose somepony will have to make more!”
“Must you refer to yourself indirectly? It’s quite tacky,” scolded Trixie.
Colgate ignored the criticism as she entered the workshop, and examined the available materials. She was almost out of gears, had only three pounds of unused tin, and was entirely out of rods. The bag of ground eggshells was overflowing, while the marble and silica sands were barely worth mentioning. “Hey, Trixie, we need more materials!”
“Alright, where do we get them?”
Colgate froze, face examining the silica. A shiver slithered up her spine. Where does one get gears? Sand probably could be ordered from a rock farm, but she hadn’t an idea where the nearest one of those was. Would rock farms also have the metal needed for casings? Colgate began to search for clues. The bags were unlabeled, so that was unhelpful, and the boxes that hold the gears and rods currently were a meticulously organized series of drawers, with the shipment cardboard having been recycled long ago. There were no receipts, and she dreaded having to delve deeper into the eldritch tome of store finance that was the ledger. “Hey, Trixie, I think we may have a problem…” Colgate said as she made her way to the main floor.
“Well, I hope this special order from a,” Trixie squinted at the newly arrived letter, “Zecora cheers you up then!” Trixie said with a forced smile as she presented the letter to her boss, who took it and read.
Heaving a light sigh, Colgate took an appropriate clock off the shelf and placed it in a saddlebag. “Do me a favor while I’m out: see if you can figure out where the nearest rock farm is, and who produces gears and stuff.”
Trixie gave an earnest salute as her boss left.
Hours later, the front door slowly swung open and Colgate limped into the store. Her mane was a mess and entwined with blue flowers, her eyes staring miles away.
“Uh… you okay there, boss?” Trixie asked, looking up from her magazine.
“You know what I hate about the Everfree Forest, Trixie?” Colgate asked, as she deposited her saddlebag on the counter, the remains of the clock spilling out, “Everything. I hate everything about the Everfree Forest. Nothing good comes from there.”
“Well, you look like you survived,” Trixie commented as she returned her attention to the magazine.
“I was chased by Timberwolves into a dragon’s lair, who took offense and ran me out,” Colgate told her story as she absent-mindedly began to repair the broken clock, “the dragon was stopped by a cockatrice. Then, while trying to find the path, I met an Ursa Major.”
“You sure it wasn’t an Ursa Minor?” Trixie asked, “They’re easy to confuse.”
Colgate just shook her head, “I can’t remember anything between then and getting back to town. So, what did you find out while I was gone?”
“Uh…” Trixie began, scratching her ear and avoiding Colgate’s eye, “I tried my best, but I kind of chickened out before I got to the library, and spent my time at a newsstand.”
Colgate nodded slowly, still dazed, “Good, good, amazing job.” Then the unicorn limped back towards the door, “I’m going to go see a doctor now.”
“Do you need me to go with you?”
“Uh… no, I can make it by myself, but thank you, Trixie.”
The door shut carefully behind Colgate.
The door carefully opened as Colgate peeked back in.
“Say, Trixie?”
“Yes, boss?”
“I can’t remember which way is up,” admitted the clocksmith, “Also, I’ve seemed to have misplaced my wings.”
“Do you need me to help you to the doctor’s?”
“Yes please.”
Colgate sat behind the sales counter, deep in thought, hooves held steeped before her. She’d got her leg bandaged, and took some medicine for the concussion. She shouldn’t have been as deep in thought as she was, but she had decided to temporarily ignore doctor’s orders for the good of her and the Clock shop’s mutual futures. Trixie busied herself dusting the shelves.
Colgate really didn’t want to admit it, but she’d gotten in over her head. She could fabricate the gears and rods, but that would take time, and she would still need to figure out where to purchase the metals. Further, she feared she would never be capable of deciphering the ledger, which she had slid carefully out of sight where it couldn’t cause anypony harm. Further, a certain name now taunted her where ever she went. The doctor’s comment about how great it was to treat such a respected compatriot especially worried her. She came to three conclusions: One, she was not remotely prepared for small business ownership; Two, she was not prepared to find herself suddenly catapulted into the central role of local mythology; and finally, deep down she missed her dearest friend and teacher.
She slammed her hooves down onto the counter, “Trixie! Bring me paper and quill!”
“You already have them in front of you,” commented the magician as she attacked the box of outdated watches with her feather duster.
Colgate peered downward, and took the objects, and began drafting her letter, expressing her frustrations, her worries, and forgiving the future recipient for his faux pas.
“Trixie, I have come to a decision,” Colgate said, placing the letter into an envelope, “if things keep going the way they are, I’ll be bankrupted in a week.”
Trixie just gave the apprentice clockmaker a look of worry, “You probably should be sleeping that concussion off, Colgate.”
“No, this is more important,” Colgate said as began to head to the post office, “I am not remotely fit to be Doctor Whoof. We need to get Sepia back.”
Sepia traveled, pulling along his wagon with the blue door, which acted as his combination home, workshop, and storefront. He wandered about Equestria from town to town, attempting to make a living as a travelling merchant pony, tales of his exploits sprouting in his wake. In the town of Pansy, he found himself assisting a young filly shop owner named Lemon Grass and her Breezy advisor Tear. In return for him helping them retrieve treasures from a nearby cave, they bought all his stock, with mention of waiting for demand to rocket up for the products.
He left Pansy in the company of Spice Craft and his curious mare companion, Wheat Tail, who reminded Sepia of the timberwolves back home. The clocksmith politely nodded along as Spice told of his exploits, and ignored them when the two engaged in irritating flirtations. Eventually they separated ways after a scheme involving, from Sepia’s understanding, gold, a shepherdess and her sheep, and complicated tax laws. Sepia left with the shepherdess, who went to sell her sheep in the chalky portions of Foal Mountains, where the mailmare finally found him chatting to a young unicorn with a witch’s hat.
“You certainly are a precious filly,” Sepia noted idly as he constructed a clock.
“I think you mean precocious,” Flint Heart corrected him, “which means ‘exhibiting mature qualities at an unusually early age.’”
“Yes, that one, good job,” Sepia replied, and slotted in the spring.
“Did I already tell you the story of how I saved my brother from the changeling queen with only my wits, a frying pan, and a small army of ill-tempered…”
“Yes, and the one where you fought some sort of mind thief,” Sepia cut her off, passing her the clock, “here’s your granny’s clock in return for the cheese.”
Flint heart took the clock into her saddle bag, “Thanks, though she not actually my granny as much as…”
In a flurry of envelopes and cloud vapor, a gray pegasus skidded to a stop beside the unicorn witch, “Doctor!”
“Derpy?!”
Flint, sensing her conversation was over, politely left the two to talk.
“Oh man, I finally did it! The others back at the main office were betting against me, but I found you!” Derpy beamed with pride, “Though to be honest, it wasn’t that hard. I just had to follow all the stories popping up about you!”
Derpy nodded towards the departing Flint Heart. “She your new companion?”
Sepia sighed, “Poor thing apparently had to wrap-up winter by herself,” the clockmaker began to short the spare parts into boxes and small containers, “So, what do you need, Derpy?”
“I've got a letter for you, Doctor!” Derpy dug the parcel from her bag, and presented it.
Sepia immediately recognized Colgate's writing on the front, spelling his name and question marks in place of an address. “Return it to sender, please.”
The Mailmare looked completely heart broken. “But I had to fly all over Equestria to find you so I can get that letter to you, Doctor!”
Sepia closed the wagon door, “Well, getting it back to her shouldn't be as hard.”
“But...”
“She's no longer my apprentice,” Sepia said, padlocking the door shut, “I don't require an update on how well she's doing.”
“It's a request for your return,” Derpy said, “you're missed.”
“Really? I'm missed? By who?” Sepia asked darkly, “By the apprentice who out grew me? Or by the few friends I possess? Or the town, who believe me to be somepony I am not?”
Derpy stared, incapable to answer.
“Return the letter to sender, Derpy,” Sepia began walking off, “I'm perfectly okay being alone. Let them find a New Doctor Whoof.”
“Sepia, wait!”
Sepia froze.
He slowly turned to the Mail Mare. “You know my name?”
“Of course I do,” answered Derpy. “It's what's on your bills, after all.”
“You... but... why?” Sepia managed in his bafflement.
Derpy rolled her eyes towards outwards, “How about we talk over lunch. All the flying's made me hungry.”
The diner the two took to was popular for its coffee. A former hardware store, its business model was altered when the original owner's son took over, leaving about artifacts of its former life. The diner's food was generally agreed to be better than Al's Pancake World, which had long ago stopped serving pancakes to focus on world cuisine.
Sepia and Derpy sat at their table in the corner, dining in weighted silence, neither knowing how to start, Colgate's letter lying between them.
“You knew my name,” Sepia began.
“Yes,” confirmed Derpy.
“And you always knew?” Sepia continued between bites of his blackbean burger.
“Yes,” confirmed Derpy.
“Why do you always call me 'Doctor', then?”
Derpy gave a casual shrug, “It was our thing,” she took a sip of her soda before elaborating, “I come to deliver your mail, call you Doctor, you correct me, I call you Doctor again, and you give me a muffin. It was the morning routine.”
Sepia no longer ate his burger, “So, you thought it was an in-joke among friends this whole time?”
Derpy, needing to replenish burnt calories, stole his fries. “Well, not quite. I mean, to be honest, I don't count as a friend.”
Sepia just looked baffled.
Derpy sighed, “I never considered you a friend, per se, but a kind face. I don't really know you, and you don't really know me, but we know of each other,” Derpy took the remains of Sepia's burger, “I think that's important to have: somepony who, when you get down to it, is only there for the small talk, for those moments when you want to be heard, but not analyzed. A pony who, no matter what life throws at you, will always be removed and safe. That's how I always considered you: a trustworthy stranger.”
“Trustworthy stranger,” Sepia parroted. “Even when I'm not the Doctor, I am still the Doctor.”
“You thought it didn't?” Sepia replied, “Now, with what you tell me, I don't even know if other ponies honestly believe I'm Doctor Whoof, or they think they're just in on the joke!”
“I always thought you were on the same page as me,” Derpy finally halted her consumption. “I never see the fan mail being sent back. You kept every one, every letter.”
“I threw them in a drawer,” Sepia stated, “Threw them in a drawer and ignored them. Most burned, after that watch incident. It just seemed wrong to acknowledge them, the letter not addressed to me. But it also felt wrong to reject them...” Sepia bowed his head.
Derpy sipped at her straw.
“You know, I've been thinking a lot, while on the road;” began the Clockmaker, “about me, about ponies, how I perceive other ponies, and how they perceive me. I've always been so riled up over nopony seeing me, the real me, behind all that time lord hooey,” Sepia looked at the mail carrier. “It just hurt so much, being ignored for myself.” Derpy stopped her drinking, as the movement of her eyes away from Sepia's betrayed her thoughts. Realization dawned on Sepia. “Then again, ponies talk about you much more than me. Heck, they can't even decide on what your name is! At least my false identity is consistent. But it never seems to bother you.”
“It used to,” confessed the wall-eyed one, “the whispers and gossip on either side as I walk down the street. The arguments, the jokes. Then, when I speak up, try to present myself as I really am, I get met with bitter replies, as if ponies were telling me 'How dare you tell us who you are. What right do you have to exist beyond what we want you to be' even though the others can't even decide what they want me to be.”
Sullen silence fell between the two ponies of myth.
“You seem happy, though,” spoke Sepia after a spell.
“At first it was genuine, when I moved to town and started work. Then it became a mask, to guard myself from the burrs of the community. Now, it's genuine again. I have found peace.”
Sepia looked at the Mail Mare as a lost sheep looked to a shepherd. “How?”
“One morning, I just decided: who cares what others ponies think! I know who I am, and where I've been, and at the end of the day, the only pony I need to answer to is me, and no pony else.”
Sepia gave her words careful consideration, looking at the letter on the table. “But what if you had upset a friend?”
“If it is a friendship worth getting upset over, then I would have disappointed myself, and work hard to make things right, so the next night I won't have failed myself as much as the previous night,” answered Derpy with a smile.
Sepia took in her words, and rolled them about in his head, disassembling them, partially reassembling them, substituting parts, and finding where the words fit within the grand clockwork of the universe. Suddenly, everything seemed to run a little bit smoother. It wouldn't quite contain the soul of time itself, but it was closer.
“Thank you, Derpy,” said Sepia.
“You're welcome, Doctor!” Derpy replied with a grin, and slid the envelope towards Sepia, “Will you accept this letter now?”
Sepia shook his head, “Not yet, there's still one more thing I want from you, if you don't mind.”
“Yes?”
“I would love to buy you a Muffin, Ms. Doo,” Sepia said with a smirk, “and hear your story.”
“It's Ms. Hooves, Doctor,” replied Derpy in kind, “and only if I may hear yours.”
The two came to an agreement, and kept the diner's table until closing, chatting to their trustworthy stranger, and leaving with a lifelong friend.
Sepia finally accepted the letter when they returned to his wagon before watching Derpy fly off into the night and towards Ponyville. Sepia unlocked the blue door of his wagon, woke up the fireflies in his lantern, then opened the letter:
Dear Sepia, I forgive you. Things escalated severely, and I know you didn’t mean I’m inferior for using magic. Please come back. I don’t know where to get supplies, the ledger confounds me, Trixie, though she tries, isn’t much help. Also, I am apparently Doctor Whoof now. I don’t like being Doctor Whoof. Please come home. With Love, Colgate
“Good enough for me,” Sepia said, then glanced about, “Let’s pack up.” He stood smiling for a moment, then sighed, “This is exactly why I got myself an assistant in the first place…”
In Ponyville, two unicorns sat motionless, one behind the sales counter of her clock shop, the other on the floor. For the most part, they were in a state of meditation, totally devoid of thought. There was nothing thinking could do at this point.
“Alright, let’s go over the stock again,” Colgate said, eye twitching at a measured pace, mane-care long abandoned.
Trixie sighed from her position on the sales floor, “One pocket watch, silver, with chain.”
Colgate put an eighth check next to it on her stock list, “Got it, next item?”
“That’s it. Everything else has either been sold or disassembled for parts,” Trixie answered, “and it’s going to stay that way, no matter how many times we do inventory.”
Colgate lowered her head into her hooves, then was struck inspiration, “Dust! Yes! Let’s get to dusting!”
“I just finished for the second time!” Trixie whined.
“Dusting three times in a day’s not going to hurt anypony.” Colgate replied diplomatically.
“I meant second time this hour.”
“Oh,” Colgate remarked idly. Her head returned to its position in her hooves. “Go over the ledger again?”
“I hid it for your own good.”
“Organize the workshop?”
“The gears have been sorted by material, size, then alphabetically, the rods the same, along with the glass, wood, chains, scrap metal, the trash, the workbenches, and I had to stop you from prying up the brick flooring.”
Colgate’s eye twitched a little more, “What happened to… that thing you do?”
“Magic?” suggested Trixie.
“The speech pattern thing.”
“Trixie is too tired to refer to herself in the third person,” explained the unicorn assistant. “Look, why don’t we just close early today?”
“We’ve only been open two hours!”
The unicorns sat, Colgate fidgeting, Trixie casting her eyes towards the distance, her mind bubbling with irritation. “That’s it!” Trixie finally exploded, “Trixie has had fun, but she’s afraid she must now tender her resignation, effective immediately.”
Colgate shot up from her lean on the sales counter, “You can’t quit! I need you!”
Trixie scoffed, “Need me? For what? You have one, I repeat, one watch left sitting on your shelves! Actually, you know what?” Trixie trotted over to the hat hanging from a hook that once held a cuckoo clock, fished in a hidden pocket within, and threw three bits at Colgate, “There! I’m buying the watch! Now you got nothing left to stress over! You’re sold out! Close the store and relax!”
“I can’t close the store! What will I do? How will I make my living?” Colgate cried, “I can make more clocks, there’s still parts left!”
“You told me you needed those in case somepomy needs their clock repaired.”
“Buck repair! This store no longer does repairs!” Colgate chuckled madly, “Got a broken clock? Then get a new one!”
“Fantastic, then what?” screamed Trixie. “Eventually you’ll be out of parts, and stock, and have nothing left to sell but hooks and shelves!”
“Maybe if somepony would stop be a coward and go to the library to research where to get supplies!” Colgate returned.
“Why haven’t you done it?” Trixie replied.
“I did, but the charter of local businesses has been updated since Ponyville was founded,” yelled back the stripe-maned unicorn.
“Oh, well, I see why I’d need to visit Twilight.”
The two fell silent and glared at one another.
A reluctant knock tapped the door.
Colgate walked to the door and swung it open violently, “What is it?”
A timid stallion stood outside, eyes wide in terror, “Uh… excuse me, Doctor? There’s been an incident. The gates of Tartarus have…”
The door slammed in his face.
“Okay, we need a plan,” Colgate said to Trixie.
“Okay, here’s a suggestion:” Trixie held up her hooves, “I’ll get mad at an unintended insult from you, go make my own clock shop with supplies raided from here, never bother do any research into how to actually run a business. Then you, in a petty show of superiority, challenge me to some deranged contest, lose, then flee town for parts unknown, vanishing off the face of Equestria forever!”
“I’m following you, but one problem,” Colgate stifled a giggle, “There’s no door to massively sabotage any attempts to flee my unearned reputation.”
The two unicorns smirked at one another, then broke down laughing, the cries of desperate merriment filling the empty clock shop, vibrating back in a barely audible echo. Tears streamed on their cheeks as they collapsed on the floor.
Trixie finally found some composure, “So, what is it like, being Doctor Whoof anyways?”
Colgate giggled for a spell before answering, “Oh, it’s great, I get to fly around in a box, fight overturned trash cans and pegasus statues, the whole time utilizing a screwdriver that can everything except actually drive a screw!”
“Well, Doctor, I must say, being your companion is certainly a thrill!” Trixie shot back, “Adventures in running a business into the ground has been quite the experience!”
“If that was fun, maybe next week we can take flying classes!”
The two continued laughing. “Hey, sure. You can just whip up wings down in that workshop of yours!” Trixie suggested
“Oh sure, then we can put them on and jump off the clock tower,” Colgate elaborated, “Be a much more glorious disaster than what we did to this place!”
“What, we don’t even have a chance?” Trixie said with a cocked eyebrow.
“Nah, no way we could get the necessary lift,” Colgate answered, “if we were meant to fly, we’d have been born pegasii.”
“Still, clouds do look comfy,” Trixie said distantly.
The two unicorns stared at the ceiling.
“You think Sepia ever got the letter?” asked Trixie.
“Can’t say for sure,” answered Colgate, “it’s always a gamble with Derpy. At least, that’s what I hear.” Colgate sighed, “Still, even if he did get the letter, why should he come back? He owes me nothing. He taught me the best he could, and look how I ended up. My mistakes are mine alone at this point. At some point, I need to stop relying on another pony to rescue me and live for myself.”
“Still, he’d help a friend,” Trixie said, “he wouldn’t even hesitate. Complain, sure, but he’d help. Only reason he didn’t hire me is because I turned him down.”
“Well, yes, he wouldn’t hesitate for a friend,” Colgate agreed, “too bad I’m just his former student.”
Trixie righted herself and looked at the pony beside her, “You’re joking right?”
Colgate sullen shook her head, “Just business, the two of us. I needed education, he needed a pony to nod politely as he’d monologue. All ending when I was ready to move forward with my life, with barely a nod. You saw how it was when I set up the tent. All he was worried about was I that I had threatened his territory.”
“Still,” Trixie stood up, and began to idly dust with a plume of feathers, “he might come.”
“Maybe,” agreed Colgate, standing up, “but I doubt it.” An aura opened the door, “Go on home, Trixie. I’m closing for the day. Hopefully by tomorrow I’ll have an idea of what to do.”
Trixie put down the duster, and paused in the doorway, “You sure?”
Colgate nodded, and closed the door behind Trixie. The clockmaker began up the stairs, when a panicked Trixie rushed in.
“Turns out that Tartarus thing wasn’t a joke,” Trixie explained, legs spread to bar the door, “mind if I stay here until the outside is less on fire?”
Colgate was awakened by the traditional sound of an excessive number of clock alarms. She woke with a yawn and a stretch and, in accordance to instinct, went downstairs to check the clocks’s proper function. She went down the line of shelves, checking tags and turning off the bells and chimes. After going through ten of the twenty-five clocks, she stopped and considered the shelf. She levitated one clock to her and looked it in the face. “Where'd you come from?” she quietly asked the clock. Sepia looked over his shoulder from his position hanging up watches, “I brought it in from my wagon,” he explained, “call me old fashioned, but I believe a store have something to sell.” Colgate replaced the clock on the shelf, and returned to managing the alarms, “Well, I suppose. If you're intent on tradition.” “I'm sure you could find success by bucking the trend,” Sepia replied, “innovation and all.” “Alarms checked, now for the next order of business,” Colgate said after setting down the last alarm, then abruptly launched herself across the room to give the senior clockmaker a hug, who stumbled sideways and fell. “Yes, it's nice to see you too, Colgate,” groaned Sepia, “you have my permission to stop crushing my lungs. I need them.” “It was terrible!” Colgate said, tightening her embrace, “I couldn't order parts, and the ledger made no sense!” “I wouldn't worry about it,” Sepia said as he tried to pry the unicorn off him, “Nopony ever really understands ledgers. Economics are their own, private sort of magic.” Colgate finally released the brown-hued pony, “So, about the whole Doctor Whoof thing...” “I, personally, am excited to see how the town sorts out our mutual presence,” Sepia answered, adding new toys to the low table. “What I want to know is if your father also had to deal with it, or if it's just us.” Sepia paused and considered the inquiry. “No... I don't think Dad was called by anything beside his name,” Sepia positioned a boxy tin dog beside a previous version of the same toy, “and 'Dad', of course.” Colgate began to assist with the restocking, and the two worked in content silence until Colgate discovered, wrapped in paper at the bottom of the box of mantle pieces, a pair of tin cylindrical objects. “What're these?” she asked, levitating them over to Sepia. The clockmaker blushed, “Well, the road was rather long and dull, and I came by a place that sold colored glass bulbs... the bronze one's yours if you want it.” Colgate carefully placed the silver cylinder with blue bulb down, and studied the one offered to her. When she pressed one of the buttons, the talon-like holders of the light sprang open, and the bulb sprang forward a bit on an inner column. “Why are you giving me this?” “Seems the stories of the most recent Doctor has changed a few details as they spread,” Sepia said with a shrug, “how do you feel about fezzes, by the way?” The front door swung burst open. “Colgate, I found it!” Trixie announced as she entered the Clockshop, levitating a pamphlet for a rock farm, “Pie Family Rock farm has metal, we'll just need to figure out how to turn it into gears and things, but... oh, good morning, Sepia.” “Morning,” greeted Sepia. The unicorn looked at the clocks about the store, “I see you two have gotten the stock situation sorted out.” “For the present,” Colgate answered. Trixie lowered her pamphlet, and smiled to Sepia, “So, about my job?” The two clockmakers exchanged looks, “Well, we don't actually need any additional hooves around,” said Sepia, “I hope that's not a problem.” “Oh no, completely understandable,” Trixie looked at the rock farm pamphlet, “I've got a few leads anyways. Though, if you happen to get enough to cover the backpay Colgate owes me, it'd be helpful.” Sepia glanced out the window, “Do you still need a new wagon?” The traveling magician followed the Clockmaker's gaze towards his portable store, “Well, it'll need some modifications, but if you'll cover them, I'll happily call it even.” “Deal,” Sepia shook Trixie's hoof.
The reappearance of the previous Doctor Whoof became, for a time, an issue of much discussion among the gossipy ranks of Ponyville. While Sepia did his best to curve the general consensus towards Colgate's supposed tenure being a case of mistaken identity, the rumors about her would never be quite extinguished, merely left with an undercurrent of doubt. The workshop was fully restocked within a week, and the Tock Clockshop was back in business shortly thereafter. “So, the first thing you do next time, Colgate,” Sepia instructed has he applied his weight to decompress a spring, “is look for receipts from the previous owner, then ask around about the nearest three rock farms. They'll be a source of sand and they should be able to point you towards somepony who can shape the parts,” the spring snapped into place. “I'll be sure assist in any way I can if, when the day comes, you haven't run me out of town again.” “I won't run you out of town,” Colgate reassured him as she sorted the wall clocks, “in fact, I never did, you ran out on your own.” “Pfft, don't be silly,” Sepia waved a dismissive hoof, “Doctor Whoof would never be so silly.” “Oh, right, of course he wouldn't,” Colgate smirked, “I'll keep that in mind if I ever meet him. I wonder if he'll be in need of an assistant.” “As long as you're back in time for work, shouldn't be a problem,” said Sepia. The door creaked open, and in poked the head of a young pegasus colt, eyes wide in curiosity, “Excuse me, sir?” Sepia smiled at the visitor, “Yes?” “Are you really the Doctor?” Sepia considered his answer carefully. “What do you think?” he said with a reassuring smile. The young pegasus grinned as he entered the store, “Do you really have a magic screwdriver?” “I have a lot of screwdrivers,” Sepia answered as he nodded toward his tool belt besides him, on the sales counter, “not sure about magic. I also have this:” Sepia grabbed the false sonic screwdriver from the belt, and let it whirr a moment. The young pegasus’s smile widened considerably as he let out a quiet “Wow.” Then, after a thought, said, “I need to tell my friends!” then ran out of the store. “That was rather…” Colgate searched for the word. “Interesting?” suggested Sepia as he returned to working on the clock he had on the sales counter. “I was thinking something along the lines of ‘pandering’, but it was interesting,” Colgate said as she synchronized the pendulums about the store. “What’s been with you? Why’ve you suddenly started embracing the Doctor Whoof image?” Sepia shrugged, “I’ve decided it’s just too much effort to fight anymore,” he answered, “and really, what does it matter. I know who I am, I’m confident in my work, and I have close friends who recognize me, why should I worry what anypony else thinks?” His assistant eyed him suspiciously, “Really now? You’re sure that’s your opinion?” “Really.” “And you’re feeling alright? No fever or dizziness?” Colgate asked as she placed a hoof on Sepia’s head. “I’m perfectly okay!” Sepia replied, brushing Colgate’s hoof aside, “Can’t a pony be tired of trying to escape from a fictional identity and choose to just embrace it?” “In general, yes, I suppose, but you? Never,” Colgate said, “Then again, you’re the only one I know with that problem, so…” “Look, if it turns out to be a bad idea, I can always stop,” Sepia told his assistant, “until such time, might as well have some fun.” “Mail time, Doctor!” Derpy announced, cardboard box in hoof. Colgate checked one of the many clocks, “It’s a bit late in the day for delivery…” “Oh, well, maybe, but when this came into processing I thought to myself ‘Gee, this looks important, I better get this to the Doctor right away!’” Derpy explained as she put the box down before Sepia, “So I did.” Sepia nodded appreciatively to the mailmare, “Thanks, Ditzy,” he said. The box was nothing special upon casual glance, just a small cardboard box sealed with packing tape with a cheap label indicating it went through the Equestria Postal Service at standard rates, but the wax on the return address line baring the crest of Princess Luna hinted towards its more privileged handling. “Isn’t your name Derpy?” Colgate asked the mail mare. “I don’t know, maybe,” answered Derpy, “Sometimes even I’m not sure. Anyways, see you later, Doctor!” “Hold on for a moment,” Sepia stopped her, “I’ve got a muffin in the back. It’s yours if you’d like it.” “That’s okay!” Derpy answered as she fluttered backwards towards the door, “I’ve had more than enough during my morning route,” then she turned and flew out. Colgate watched the grey pegasus go, “Now Derpy’s acting strange. Did I wake up in the right Ponyville today?” Sepia didn’t have an answer. “So, who’s the package from?” Colgate asked, trotting over to look, “Ooh, a present from Luna!” “Not a present,” Sepia said as he moved the box carefully and unopened to the safe below the sales counter, “just a loan, part of a project I have going for Hearth’s Warming Eve.” “But it’s midsummer.” “It’s a big project,” Sepia offered for explanation, “just something that needs to be done, for me.”
Things certainly did change about the clockshop. Sepia began to increase Colgate's duties, mostly in the business sides of things, which thrilled the young unicorn. Sepia even hung a sign in the window declaring “Pieces by Sepia Tock and Minuette”, and her works also began bearing her signature as opposed to the name of the store. Neither party commented on these changes, but both welcomed them in silence. Life keeps moving forward, and there was no need to hinder the changes. The assistant also took notice in alterations in the behavior of her colleague, as he lightened up on the crusade for his identity. He didn't surrender, but he no longer seemed to be bothered by it. He'd correct other ponies when they called by the wrong name to his face, but he now merely smirked as rumors began to appear when he went out. The sonic screwdrivers were rarely given much use; Colgate kept hers in her dresser, while Sepia's lived with the actual screwdrivers, and he'd take it out only to delight the foals. After some discussions, it was agreed that neither clockmaker would reproduce the screwdrivers for sale. It'd just take away some of the magic. In about a month's time, very few ponies identified Colgate as the Doctor, and even when they did, another pony would correct them. Soon Sepia reigned once again as the Ponyville Time Lord. Some things never change.
“This thing seems to have crystalline parts,” observed Sepia as he examined the watch borrowed from the Princesses, “I wonder why.” “I still don't understand what you're up to,” Colgate said as she levitated in the wood and blue paint. “All this effort to play a prank on yourself seems a little... deranged...” “I've already done been on the other side of the arrangement,” Sepia said as he put the watch back into its box, “so if I don't do it, reality might break.” The clockmaker paused as he closed the watch's cover, “Clockwork by Brown Tick and Star Swirl...” he read. “Who?” inquired Colgate. “No clue,” said Sepia, shutting the watch, then the box lid, then placed the box in the safe. “How about we go out for lunch? My treat. Just hang up the ‘Out to Lunch’ sign while I find the key.”
"So, Colgate, tell me about yourself," said Sepia after the waiter delivered his salad and Colgate's sandwich. Colgate giggled, "Tell you about myself? I've worked for you for years, what's there to talk about?" "Well, that's the thing," Sepia inspected his salad and double checked that it included a fair mixture of items, "you've been my assistant for such a long time, and yet I always thought your name was Colgate. It's a little distressing to discover I don't even know that about my closest friend." Colgate froze midbite into her sandwich, the bread and grass construction hovering at her mouth. Finally, delicately, she finished taking the bite, chewed, swallowed, and said, "I'm your closest friend?" "Well, yes," answered Sepia, "isn't that obvious? Sure, I occasionally talk to Soarin, when he's about, and Trixie is mostly bearable, but when you get down to it, most days the only pony I have is you." "That's sad." "Really? I don't think so," Sepia observed, "I'd give up fifty friendships for one great friend." Colgate ate her sandwich silently. She swallowed her bite. "Well, I was born and raised in Canterlot, and I visit my parents there whenever I have time. I moved to Ponyville so it'd be easier to travel around to educate myself on clockmaking. Then, I was fortunate to discover I didn't have to leave, as the best teacher on the topic just happened to be in Ponyville," Colgate told Sepia, "even if he does have a few identity issues." "Canterlot, huh?" Sepia ate some of his sandwich, "Never knew that." "My parents are attendants in the castle," Colgate elaborated, "they usually never directly work under the princesses, but there've been times. For the most part, they just handle the little bits that get overlooked." Sepia politely ate his sandwich, giving his apprentice an invested stare. "I rent Ruby Punch's basement," Colgate continued, though she was beginning to feel awkward, unsure what else to say. "I have few friends about town. Anything else?" "Well, there's the fact your name's actually Minuette," suggested the clockmaker. "You know that already," Colgate rolled her eyes, but elaborated anyways, "my parents named me Minuette, but I've never really like that name. I got the nickname 'Colgate' from some school friends. I forget the reasoning now, but I've always just gone with it." Sepia finished the last bite of his salad and pushed the plate away from himself in a small ceremony of concluding the meal. "How about you, Mr. Nosy?" Colgate asked after finishing her sandwich. "What don't you already know?" Sepia placed a few bits on the table and began to walk back towards the clockstore, "My name is Sepia Tock, I was born and raised in Ponyville by my dad, who was also a clockmaker, ponies think I'm a time lord, and I have the best apprentice in the world. Everything else is relatively insignificant." "You should know better, Mr. Clockmaker," said Colgate as she walked beside, "no part is ever insignificant." "Well, sure," Sepia conceded, then added, "but everything should come in its own time." "You big softy," Colgate said with a mocking giggle. "Says the mare named after toothpaste," Sepia shot back. The two clockmakers returned to work.
