> Clockwork
>  by 71NYL-5CR4TCH
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> The Gaps Between The Seconds
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have no idea how long I've been here, this gap between the seconds. It could be minutes, days, ages, I can't tell. I can never tell. 

Maybe that's for the best.

The sun never rises, but it never sets. The clock never ticks, and I never rest. I never hunger, nor thirst. I certainly never tire.

It makes it much harder to tell the time I spend here.

But I guess it's always the same, the time I spend here.

But it never feels like none at all.

Have you ever wondered how much time is captured within a picture? I've always wondered that.

If time is in infinitely small increments, how long is a picture? Can there be two frames of time, or a half?

I suppose that's how long I spend in here, just a picture in time.

They always say 'a pictures worth a thousand words', but they're wrong. 

By millions. Millions of words, of details, of fragments, and of bits of knowledge hidden in the gaps between the seconds. 

Millions of things to observe and to analyze.

Millions of things to admire and respect.

Like her.

I've been staring at her for longer than I can even guess at. 

She hasn't noticed. 

She never does. 

Nopony ever does. 

Even when I change something in the gaps, to them it's a hiccup, a jolt, a shiver. Nothing they can't shrug off and go about their day. Even those who notice choose to ignore it. It happens too fast for them to comprehend. 

Sometimes it bothers me, all the things I could do in the gaps.

When I have all of time to do it.

To do anything, or nothing.

I always wonder what would happen if I stayed within a gap forever.

But I don't think I could.

I fear to imagine forever.

My pencil glides across my pad in a final line. I do my best to capture some gaps. While I will always loose an infinite amount of gaps, I do preserve the one's I like. The one's I rest in.

Essentially I'm a camera, capturing all the things in the gaps. But I can capture so much more. So much more than an image.

I finish my sketch and levitate the pencil back where I found it, along with my sketch pad, and the picture of what she looks like in the gap. I always draw from in the gap. I hate poses, their artificiality ruins what makes realism. What I draw is what she really looks like. Not an ad or an example, but full reality. 

I look at the world around me, there's so much detail in the gaps. Each particle of dust, caught by the morning sunlight. The spine of every book, and the way the still sun reflects off their gloss. The feather, suspended perpetually and for no time at all simultaneously by a non-existent breeze.

I feel the wooden floorboards, and how they connect with my hooves warm and firm. The smell of the dust and parchment, somehow with a scent that is old and wise. The taste of my own mouth is one I have learned not to take for granted. It is far better than any other flavor I've had within the gaps.

I'd say there's no sound here, but being alone with one's thoughts is surprisingly loud. The air can't vibrate in these gaps. I've watched myself erupt without a sound.

But most of all its her. It's been her recently. I've drawn this library 63 times now. And 63 times she's been in the middle, smiling. I still miss a lot of details. Details that are there in this gap but gone the next. That's what I like about the gaps. They give me something new to draw. The details never change within the gaps themselves though. And some details...

Some never change. One in particular I can't seem to understand. The way the sun reflects of the sheen of her eyes, it's always the same. I've drawn her at every angle to the sun, but her eyes still sparkle the same as they always have. I hope it's the same as they always will. Her coat is always the same color, but her mane has never been the same shape twice. Always a stray hair, or a different parting at her horn. It's never the same, and it gives me an excuse to draw her again.

I don't know why I need one, it's just nice to have.

I've never known whether its a blessing or a curse. To have all the time in the world. I thought I was wasting away in the gaps between the seconds. I believed that I would die an old stallion, in my early 20's.

It doesn't seem to work that way though.

I don't think I age in the gaps at all.

My name is Clockwork. I have been alive for 19 years, 8 months, 24 days, 4 hours, 26 minutes and 4 seconds.

But I have been conscious for far longer. I'm glad I don't know how long though.

I won't be that young for much longer, but I have been for a while. It's also the oldest I've ever been.

I don't want to grow old, It means I have to see the ones I care about do so as well.

Like her.

I wish I could bring her here with me, into the gaps. To show her all the hidden wonders that lie within each passing moment. 

A million details in the most boring of times.

I wish I could make another person appreciate the magic and wonder that exist within an infinite amount of ever passing moments.

The beauty of a single jewel in a river of diamonds. 

I wish I could show her the drawings. All of them. I've gotten quite good at it now.

I think she'd like the way I draw her, It really is very accurate.

It is too bad she just met me 5 minutes ago.

I've known her for months it feels.

It always scares me, how fast it really progresses.

How quickly I have to react.

I step back to where I stood and wait.

Wait for the dam to burst.

"-and if you like I can check Canterlot library for some more books on this art style? We don't have many art books here in the Ponyville library."


> A Lifetime Of Knowledge In No Time At All
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I blinked rapidly as my mind took the time to process what she had said.

"I don't think that'll be much help. I've read every book in Canterlot. None were too helpful."

It wasn't a lie. I had read every single book in Celestia's public library. Along with her private collection, forbidden books on dark arts, and every privately owned book in the city.

I did so on April 8th, 4 years ago, at 4:48 and 31 seconds in the afternoon.

It was a particularly nice gap.

"You've read every book on art in Canterlot Library?!" She exclaimed, "that's...that's nearly 2,000,000 books!"

"Well, yes. There are 1,946 books on art. But I have read all 4,893,210 books in Canterlot."

She offers me an annoyed expression. It makes me sad, thinking I had upset her. I only wish to be helpful.

"All the books. Right. Look, I told you what I can about what you came here for. Unless there's something else I can help you with, perhaps it is best you leave."

This upsets me greatly. I haven't left the library in a very long time. I haven't forgotten what it is like outside yet, but I have before. I tend to favor the indoors.

"What is your name?" I ask.

"I...beg your pardon?" She raises an eyebrow at me and recedes a bit, raising her right hoof.

I pause.

I have not seen her this way before. It intrigues me quite a bit, to see all these new emotions. I can analyze many things in her face. 

Confusion.

Annoyance.

Surprise.

Slight disgust.

Before she has been nothing but cheery, a smile adorning her muzzle. Helpful, enthusiastic.

This is very different, though.

I don't want to draw her this way.

But her eyes...

Her eyes still glimmer the same way against the sun.

And she is still so beautiful.

I resume, if only in hopes for an answer.

"Your name. What is it?"

"Oh...it's Twilight...Twilight Sparkle. Why do you ask now?"

She seems merely confused now. I like this more. It is easier to fix confusion.

"I wanted to know your name." I offer. Confusion is often very easy to fix.

"I know, but why now?"

I said often, not always...

"Oh...well, um. I suppose this was when it occurred to me I didn't know your name. It isn't terribly important to know somepony's name right away." I hope this will suffice.

"It seems pretty upfront to me..." She counters, her gaze analytical and scrutinizing.

I am uncomfortable. Normally I wait. I wait in the gaps until I can think of a good response to a question, or an argument.

But I don't want to wait.

I don't want to have to think while she continues to stare at me with such hostility.

"Well...it really has nothing to do with whom a pony is. Really, it's the least important thing about a pony. They don't even choose what it is."

"I...suppose that's true...in a really...weird way. Well, what's your name?"

"My name is Clockwork. It is nice to meet you Twilight Sparkle." I am happy to know her name. It is one more thing I could capture that a photograph could not.

"Just 'Twilight' works." She respondes, relaxing a bit. "It's nice to meet you too, Clockwork."

"You have a beautiful library."

"Thanks...read all the one's in this one too?" 

Her voice alteres slightly in a way that would commonly indicate sarcasm, but I am unsure. 

I stepped within the gap and looked around. There aren't too many books here. I could read them all I suppose.

So I do.

I meander the library picking up book after book, reading through shelf after shelf. There are many books on the sciences and history. Some fiction novels which I find amusing. I come across one particularly large novel which I assume will take much of no time at all to read. Instead, it is hollow, containing a beautiful set of golden jewelry, 5 necklaces and a tiara. I make note of this to discuss later.

There are no books on the art's which I admire. Perhaps I truly am the only one who can appreciate the gaps.

I return to my conversation.

"Yes." I answered with a smile, "unfortunately, you do not have any helpful books either."

She narrowed her eyes at me, "Really. You've read all these books when? When I wasn't looking?"

"In a way." I answer.

It is the truth.

She smirks, narrowing her eyes, "In my library I have a very old copy of a very rare story tale. Who kills the Evil Hydra in Violet Fog?"

"The frog." I answer. I remember this book. It was fragile, and the parchment had yellowed from age. Time, however, had been kind enough to it's print to allow it to contain it's meaning. Books in other languages were particularly annoying for a while, especially those in the dead languages. Until I learned the other languages, and the dead ones. Now they fill my gaps the same.

She stops, apparently caught off guard by my quick an accurate answer. "How did-"

"He jumps in the Hydras throat, choking it, but killing himself. The moral was sacrifice for a greater cause." I answer again.

She stares at me, wide eyed. "Ok, while unlikely, it is possible that you read that somewhere else. There is one book in my library unlike any other. Which one is it?" This time, she shows less skepticism, but more befuddlement. 

I believe I know this answer.

"Is it the one with the 5 necklaces and the tiara stashed inside? I have never seen another copy of The Elements Of Harmony with such things inside."

She stares at me now, her jaw slack and eyes wide. 

"Is this correct?" I ask again. I often seek validation. I like to know when I am right or wrong. I ponder in the gaps when I do not know and it causes my mind to feud too purely. 

"I...yes...but, how?" She asks in disbelief.

"I tried to read the book, but those were inside instead."

"No, how could you have read them?! All of them?! There are thousands in this library!"

"4,561." I specify. 

"I don't even know if that's right!"

"I read your library records too."

"GAH!!" She shouts, confused and angered, "How many times have you been in here?! Reading books while I'm gone?! I've never even seen you before! SPIKE's never even seen you before and he never leaves!"

"Hey!" a tiny voice protests from up the stairs.

"I...I would think not. I have never been here before today. I read all your books 33 seconds ago." 

I always try to introduce people to the concept of a gap with proof.

It always makes them more skeptical when you present the idea first. They expect it, and are therefor, less amazed, and do not appreciate it's beauty. It has become a prepared magic trick. 

But if you use a concept as an explanation...

Suddenly the only option is to believe it.

"What do you mean 33 seconds ago?" She is still enraged, but now even more confused. I do not like this, and I hope I can fix it.

"I read all of your books 33 seconds ago." This is the best explanation I can give until she herself begins to put the pieces together.

If you allow someone to figure out a puzzle themselves, they are much more likely to believe their conclusion is correct.

Inception, if you will.

"In one second?"

"Less, actually. In a gap."

"A what?"

"A gap, between seconds. I stopped the world and took the time to read all of your books."

"That...that would have taken weeks! Months!" She exclaims.

"On the contrary, it took no time at all."

"So, you just, stopped time, is that it?" She raises an eyebrow again, clearly skeptical.

"Essentially."

She dead-pans, but offers a reply,

"Horse Manure."

It appears I will have to go deeper.





























BWAHH...duhduhduhduhduhduhduhduhBWAHH





> Such Big Decisions Made In So Little Time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I sigh.

I never understand ponies.

Other ponies, I should say.

I've read 341 books on pony psychology, trying to grasp how their minds can calculate so much information coming at them so quickly.

How they can make these decisions almost instantly, on what to believe, who to trust...

Such big decisions in so little time.

It will always amaze me how quick we are to judge other ponies. Ponies we don't even know. To pronounce them a liar, or fraud out of no sensation other than our own skepticism. 

And skepticism is just. Awful.

It really is, if you think about it.

While you may find yourself disappointed more frequently, you also find yourself much more eager and willing to explore the unknown.

To progress.

But if none of us were skeptics, then I suppose we'd jump into whatever fraudulence was tossed our way. 

I suppose the liars are to blame.

To blame for our doubt, for our mistrust.

But also our comfort.

The world is so very random, and often acts out of it's own whim, or spite.

Many ponies can't accept that, so they turn to the lies to look for a sense of continuity in a random existence.

For a purpose.

Maybe there is one.

So perhaps nopony is to blame.

Perhaps we all are. 

"I...I don't know what else you want me to say Twilight." I shrug, it's unfortunate, but sometimes it is for the best for others to find comfort in a lie. I hate to force lies or truths on anyone, they never sink in.

"I don't want you to say anything, I want proof." 

Proof. What risky material proof is. It is the source of concrete evidence. Concrete evidence which makes a sledgehammer, capable of shattering comfort...or being dismissed with the wave of a hoof, depending on how beloved the lie or truth is.

"Well...how would you like me to prove it?" I raise an eyebrow. I've been asked to prove my 'gift' before. Sometimes ponies can accept what I am capable of, and chalk it up to a spell which they haven't discovered yet. Sometimes ponies will dismiss it as a trick, and convinced they will not be proven the fool. Other times, well other times ponies just won't accept it with no reason not to. 

"Teleport." She commands.

Well...that's a first.

I've had ponies flash me pictures for very short periods of time, asking me what was on them.

I've had ponies ask me to tell them about books I have read in the gaps.

But this was...well...so brilliantly simple.

"As far as I know, I am the only pony with the ability to teleport, but I've been wrong before. I do, however, know it takes some time, and a large, detectible burst of magic. So let's se it."

Her face is captured in a cocky grin, her eyes pointed and teeth showing. Hungry to make a fool out of me. To be proven right.

I almost hate to disappoint her, she seems so confident. 

I walk around the library, her eyes still fixed on where I once stood.

I lay on the comfy looking couch and turn to face her back.

It will be the first time somepony has seen me move within the gap. Or at least notice.

But as always, time resumes.

"W-what?" I hear her cry out as her stance jerks.

Her head whips around, with audible 'wooshes' as her mane flips through the musty air.

Finally her eyes lock with mine, and she stares.

She stares with the widest eyes I have ever seen.

I'm not sure what to expect next. A cry? A gasp? A demand for an explanation?

I've heard all of those before.

Her lips slowly stretch to form an enormous grin.

"I...but...you...but how...Teach me."

Well you are just full of firsts aren't you? 

No pony has ever asked me to teach them before.

Ponies have asked 'how did you do that?!'

but never 'show me how'.

"I...can't. I don't even know how it works."

"Well how do you do it? A spell? Did you read how in a book? Does the princess know?"

This is why I like the gaps.

"I...don't know I...started using the gaps when I was a little colt...and I don't think so..?"

"What happened your first time?"

She's so eager, she went from not even knowing something was possible to wanting to know everything about it. 

Ponies can change so fast.

Such big decisions in so little time.

"I was a little colt, like normal, I guess. I hadn't even started using magic yet. My friends and I were playing baseball. I was the pitcher, the one who throws the ball. I threw it to the other teams bater, he was a big mean colt, and he didn't like me very much. I could see a mean stare in his eyes, I think he was aiming for me. I heard the crack of the bat and saw the ball zooming toward me. I clenched my eyes and waited for an impact but...it never came. The world went quiet and still. When I cracked my eyes open I saw the ball, a foot or two away from my face. Just...floating there. I thought I had died at first, but when I stepped out of the way of the ball, everything just...started back up again. Ever since then, I can step into these gaps between seconds. It gives me a lot of time to think, and to be by myself."

"So you didn't even try? It just...happened?"

She looks disappointed.

I shrug, "Pretty much."

"Is that your special talent? Stopping time?"

"I..don't know, to be honest. My cutie mark appeared right after it happened for the first time, but it doesn't make any sense to me..."

She looks at my flank and squints, as if the image was blurry.

But my cutie mark is extraordinarily simple, two parallel rectangles, side by side. Nothing more. Just two thick, parallel, white lines against my golden coat.

"Me neither. Maybe I have a book that could help us."

"Unfortunately, you don't."

"Oh...right."


> Solitude
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She continued to stare at me, her look of bewilderment growing.

Whether it was at my gift or at the fact she had stumbled upon a subject she could not research, I would never know. 

"So there really is no way you can teach me? Or any sort of hint? ANYthing?!" she stammered.

"I'm sorry, but I just don't know how it works. It's just a will..."

"Do you realize what kind of power this is though?! You could do anything you wanted! You...you could be anywhere and nopony would ever know!"

"I know." I replied

"So what do you do?! Do you save ponies? Or...or sneak in places? Or..."

"I like to draw." I state.

"....."

"......"

"...draw."

"Yes, draw."

"Like, pictures."

"Like pictures, yes."

"You could do...literally ANYTHING YOU WANT...and you draw pictures."

"Sometimes the gaps are to beautiful to do anything BUT admire them. I know what I COULD do, and it scares me."

"Why do they scare you?"

I sighed. Many pony emotions were explicable through logic, reasoning, or a series of chemicals reacting in the brain. Fear, though, fear could be a tricky one. Mostly because fears are learned, we associate a negative event with a thing, or place, and then fear that thing or place. So what was so terrifyingly beautiful about my gaps where nothing could hurt me? 

Perhaps that nothing could hear me scream.

A place where nothing could ever break my heart.

Or love me.

A place where no one could ever put me down.

Or help me back up.

"Solitude." I answered. "I fear the complete and total isolation and solitude in the gaps. I could do anything, but what would be the point when there is nopony to share it with? I fear that if I accomplish something great, I'll be too heartbroken when no pony even cares...or knows...or notices."

"But isn't it peaceful? Relaxing?" She asks, now sitting with me on the couch.

"I suppose, but I always find myself needing to occupy myself, lest I go mad..."

"...so you draw?"

"Yes, it's a good distraction."

"Can you show me?"

"Um..."

I was unsure what to do here. I only had pictures of her in my saddle bags. I could show her those, but I remembered enough social convention that this would probably earn me a hoof to the face and universal ban from the library. I could step into a gap and go get some other drawings from my home but...

aaannnnddd she's looking at the pictures anyway. Great.

"These...these are of me!"

"Uhmmm..."

"There are like 30 drawings!"

"Uh...."

"These are...really really good!"

Wat.

"You...you think so?"

"Absolutely!"

Her smile was a mile wide as her eyes scanned over sketch after sketch, taking in every detail.

"And you're not...concerned?" I asked.

"I'd be creeped out if they were of me in the shower but considering you could draw literally anything and you chose to draw me...34 times, I'm simply flattered!"

I do not understand other ponies.
> The 35th perspective
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Flattery.

Flattery is such an amazing power.

The power to change a decision, to change a perspective, to change a mind.

All by the correct articulation of a few simple syllables, or actions.

And it here it gives me a new perspective.

A 35th perspective on her.

Somehow the same as all the rest, somehow completely different

She looks different now. Radiant. Glowing. Blushing...

Completely adorable.

So I draw her again, carefully capturing each shimmer in the eye, each line of her smile. 

And it is beautiful.

A beautifully flawed 35th perspective.

I will never be able to completely capture her true beauty. 

Perhaps because her beauty is in her movement.

Perhaps it is in her voice.

I can loose sight of what makes the world in the gaps. All I have here are sights.

But she is everything.

Once again, I levitate the pencil down.

This time, I didn't bother to draw her library. Just her. Sitting and sheepishly smiling next to me.

Her violet eyes are half closed, like the radiant moon I have stared at for many nights.

Her cheeks burn pink, even through her fur, like a rose in a field of lavender.

And she is so beautiful.

There is nothing else now. No room, no others.

There is simply myself and her.

I keep waiting, waiting for her to speak...

but I remember where I am.

What I am.

What I can do

It occurs to me that I could do anything right now.

I could leave forever, and never come back, but that is the last thing I would ever want to do.

I could think of things to say to her, things to do, which might help me recapture this smile.

But that seems far too artificial.

Or...

I could kiss her.

What I want to do most in the world right now.

No fear of rejection, or disgust, or even disapproval...

But it doesn't feel right.

Because there is no way she could do what I want her to do most in the world.

Simply...

Kiss me back.
> Recognition
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's always been the solitude. 

The reason why I don't utilize my gift to the fullest extent, as some ponies would say.

As she's pointed out, I could do anything. I could get away with anything.

But to what end?

Nopony would know I had done it, or even that it was done.

It would wash along with time, unnoticed and unappreciated.

Perhaps that is why I don't. Why I do nothing but that which fills my time and occupies me. For as nopony would like to admit, there is an underline reason we all aspire for greatness.

Recognition.

We all crave it, desire it, need it. To be recognized, to have another confirm that our existence has meaning. That we stand above the rest as someone, or something spectacular. We bloody our hooves and break our backs over a simple 'good job' or 'thank you'. 

We desire to be more than accepted.

We desire to lead by example.

And in these gaps I lead.

In here I am the king of my own land.

With not a subject to lead.

So I let it come back to me, time, rushing like a whirlwind of energy and smile. 

I smile at her, and she's smiling back.

"Can you take me with you?"

I blink. "You mean, into the gaps?"

"Yes."

"I...I don't know."

She grabs my hoof in hers and whispers

"Try."

So I focus. And she focuses. I focus just in the way I would to stop the world normally. And I can feel her. Feel her holding on while I try to break free from the stream. Into a gap. But it's harder. I have to hold onto the gap much tighter.

"You have to hold on tight..."

My eyes clench shut.

And I begin to pull. 

At first all is quiet, as it normally is. Perfect silence. I crack open my eyes and begin to look around.

Sure enough all is still. Completely stopped. Existing within my picture in time

Until I feel something for the first time. Something new, something foreign

A movement within the gap.

Her hoof slowly unclasps mine and retracts to her body.

Her lips move, but no sound comes out, as if she's trying to speak

She turns to me, a look of amazement, of bewilderment in her eyes.

The sun still reflects off of them exactly the same. Glistening, like magic almost.

Her smile is radiant, and she opens her mouth to speak.

But not a sound escapes her.

All is quiet. Perfect silence.

Her eyes wander about the library, admiring as I do. Seeing as I do.

Understanding as I do.

The fleeting beauty in every second of time.

The beauty of a single jewel in a river of diamonds.

She walks towards the window, eyeing the particles of dust floating in the sunlight, before gently tapping one with her hoof. And slowly, it drifts away. She walks around some more, even peaking out windows to catch some of the truly more wondrous things. 

A bird, suspended mid-flight.

A child's smile, frozen in time. 

Even the simple clouds, resting, perfectly still.

She returns to me and sits down on the couch, but her eyes continue to wander, drinking in information. It truly is amazing how much detail there is here. And to think...

We're just in one little gap. What of the infinite number of others we have lost?

What of time itself? 

How can we possibly hope to comprehend all the information being thrown at us with a new gap every passing moment, when it takes hours to properly see one?

How much information, emotion, feeling, and reality is lost in every passing second?

But it really isn't any of my concern, because here, I have all the time in the world.

We have all the time in the world.

And suddenly, it matters. 

It matters that I have this gift, or this curse. 

It matters that I can do what I do.

Because I can do this with somepony.

I can do this... 

with her.

Her eyes meet mine once again, and her mouth opens to speak.

Yet I am greeted by silence.

She tries again, but once more, not a sound.

Then she simply smiles, as if she understands.

She understands the gaps.

She understands me.

She feels the stillness of the world.

And the stillness of my mind.

The peace.

The panic.

The fear.

The comfort.

The power.

The weakness.

She understands all of it. Every conflicting thought rushing through my head because of the absolute nothingness of it all. 

But now, there is less nothing.

There's something.

There's her.

Once again, I am the king of my own land.

But now I have a queen.

Someone to face the tempest of time with, to be with, to fight alongside.





My wildest dreams and nightmares have been proven to me, have become reality, dancing in front of my very eyes.





At least for now.





But now is forever.





And now I am king.






King of my gaps.

King of my mind.

But not of her.

For now that we are here, and not just me, she can do whatever she wants.

And right now she wants to smile.

And this makes me want to smile.

Her hoof touches mine.

And mine touches hers.

Her eyes meet mine.

Mine meet hers.

And I do what I want most in the world.

And finally...



she does so back.




> Love
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Authors note: I'm extraordinarily hungover but a promise is a promise, so I'm sorry if the quality isn't top notch.*

Love.

Love is perhaps the most important emotion that can be found within us.

The insanities it may drive us to, or pull us from, have proven that it holds a power so raw over one's psyche it can make or break you in a heartbeat.

So why is it so mysterious?

As deep as we may dive into our own physical brains to observe chemical and electrical reactions, one's consciousness, their soul, remains a great mystery to us.

For as we can try to replicate these same reactions in the motherboards of computers, or the lines of a page, we can never truly capture it. Computers and stories still cannot feel. Cannot love.

Only we can love.

So how am I to say it to another? What I feel for her?

We may master communication to it's fullest extent but I can describe to you the emotion I feel no better than I can explain the color red.

I can only say its name.

Love.

When even only a single soul captures true love in your heart it truly consumes all that you are, vanquishing all other hatred and loathing because there is simply no room, no room for any other thought than the adoration you have for another. So in love for her I find love in all.

So suddenly that which has plagued me has blessed me.

So rapidly that which weighs me, lifts me.

And in this gap, this precious, precious gap between 2 completely ordinary seconds of time I have been changed. 

I have the power, the ability, the gift to stop this world, this universe on a dime, and live in this moment forever, for eternity...

But then I would miss so many more.

So why oh why would I want to do that?

But how does one know what love is?

What is that defining line? When is it crossed?

Somepony once said to me "You just think your in love. You're too young to know what love is."

But isn't thinking your in love, and being in love the same thing?

There are no physical symptoms of love in ones body, they exist only within the mind, the soul.

One does not have a hypochondriac case of love, the idea is laughable.

And to say one is to young to know what love is...absurd.

A foal loves it's mother from the moment it is born.

Perhaps romantic love?

But then what is the age limit?

So the question remains, this all-powerful, soul consuming feeling, how do we define it?

It certainly can't be measured, nor made exclusive to any individual or group.

What is love?

Love is when their is a remarkable fondness, in my eyes, so remarkable that love, true love...

Is knowing deep in your soul that there is another out there, whether they are in your arms or a world away...

That you care about more than you care for yourself. 

And I do love her.

So whether we have known one another or for 5 minutes or 5 years it does not matter.

Because to me...

To love...

A second is all the time in the world.

> Life
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the longest instant, I watch her.

I watch her as she meanders about the place she works, the place she lives, looking at everything.

The finest details of her world, as though they were not prevalent before.

Finally she returns to me, and nods.

I know what this means.

The simple recognition that while we may spend an eternity young even this eternity must eventually end.

So I take her hoof in mine,

and I end this eternity to return to the next.

As the world comes rushing back, she seems startled by the experience, but quickly shakes it off.

"So...that's...that's your world?" she asks.

"No, that is this world. That is every passing second in which we live, and breathe. We simply took the time to appreciate it better."

"I still don't understand how that's possible..."

"Nor do I, but does it truly matter? Perhaps it's better without an explanation."

"But everything has an explanation, or at least a reason."

"Not at all. Everything simply has a meaning."

"Wh- what do you mean?"

"Look at the world around us, filled with light, and color and sound and life. Can you explain any of that?"

"Well...light is a form of energy...and sound is the vibration through the air...and life...is..."

"No, Twilight, you are defining things, labeling things for a purpose of communication. Can you explain sound to the deaf? Or light and color to the blind? Or life to a stone? In our lives we take these labels for granted because we can experience them from our own perception. But what do they mean outside of us? Haven't you wondered?"

"Well...then what is the meaning of these things?"

"The meaning of anything is simply to give meaning to it's contrast."

"I...what?"

"Well truly the universe within itself is fairly meaningless, it has no...well, purpose. But the things within it give purpose and meaning to one another. There cannot be light without dark, or color without blackness. Sound without silence or silence without sound."

"So, what? The meaning of life is to define death?"

"No, death is a part of life. An invariable and inescapable end, but still a part of it. No the meaning of life is to define the lifeless, at least, in my eyes."

"In other words..?"

"We as life have the responsibility to give meaning to the entire rest of the universe. By acknowledging and appreciating the existence of that which cannot acknowledge and appreciate itself, we give it purpose. We give it meaning. For without us what is the point of a star, a galaxy, all of space and time? We are the only ones who can confirm that anything ever even happened in the whole of the universe. The stars and moon and sun depend on us just as much as we depend upon them, for our entire universe exists only in perfect balance to create us, Twilight, life, for we are truly what defines it. Just like our bodies to our minds."

"What do you mean, like our bodies?"

"The entire purpose of the body is to create a machine which supports the mind. Every system within us has the end goal of keeping out soul alive. This is why we are not our bodies, they our simply our vessel. Much like we are not a part of the universe...we are the universe. Existing within it as simply another arrangement of atoms and energy, the only difference is, that we can give purpose to ourselves."

Twilight continued to stare through his eyes, scrutinizing and studying all he had just said.

"So why tell me this?"

"Because you've seen what I can see. You've seen the potential of eternity, and chose to come back, as I have always chosen as well. But I want you to see why that decision must always be made, to allow the world to continue on. For as I may be better at observing and giving meaning to what is here, and now...

There will always be more.

And I owe it to everything.

To the wind and sun and rain.

To the stars, the sun, and the skies.

I owe it to all of the universe far greater than I could ever hope to be.

I owe all that which is lifeless...

a chance at life."
> Fear
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So this is our purpose? Our meaning in this world? Simply to acknowledge others?" Twilight inquired, her curiosity had peaked to the words of this pony. To have such spent such little time together, yet to accrue so much, both emotion, and opinion.

"As I see it, yes, as I can find no other invariable meaning." I replied.

"I'd like to discuss more with you, if you don't mind..." Twilight enquired, "I'll just put the kettle on for some tea."

Twilight meandered into the kitchen, and I sat in the room he had dwelled for years, yet minutes. Soon she returned, levitating a pink frilly kettle and two matching tea cups. Slowly she poured the brown liquid into the china and levitated it to me, which I accepted. 

"Any sugar?"

"No, thank you, I prefer mine without."

"Very well."

We sat, silent for a few minutes as Twilight sipped and silently pondered. 

In the background an antique clock ticked rhythmically, echoing against the hard wood interior. 

"I have more questions for you, Clockwork."

"Ask away," I reply.

"You speak of the inherent meaning of life itself, but what of that we feel within life? What of our emotions? Our dreams?"

"The concept still applies. All of our emotions have their opposites. We would not know of joy without sorrow, or dreams without failure."

"I see."

She sips her tea again, eyes briefly closing.

*Tick-tock*

"So what of fear?"

"Hm?"

"Well, we all feel fear. Whether it is rational or irrational is largely dependent, but it resides within us all. It only seems to weaken us, and without it, we would live in a fearless world, this seems ideal, does it not?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Why not?"

I set down my tea. The necessity of fear, surely it exists for a reason? After all, everything has a reason, right?

*tick-tock* 

"Twilight, when you kissed me, were you afraid?"

"I don't know about afraid, maybe nervous..."

"Not at all afraid? Not afraid of rejection or disgust?"

"Well...maybe a little..." Twilight paused, glancing down into her steaming tea, "but had I been fearless, I wouldn't have felt that way!"

"Exactly. You would have no fear of my rejection. It would mean nothing to you. It would be harmless. And what would that mean?"

"Well by that logic, that it didn't mean anything..." Twilight replied skeptically.

"Exactly. Fear lets us know what is precious, and drives us to not lose it, to fight to keep what little grasp we have."

"So then what made me kiss you?"

I meet her eyes.

*Tick-Tock*

"Courage."

"Then what would you say is the difference between fearlessness and courage?"

"Fearlessness is the absence of fear, its void. Courage is knowing fear, and acting in spite of it. You spoke that fear seems to weaken us, but I would argue that it makes us stronger. By overcoming that which we fear, we learn to better ourselves, to conquer."

"So you're saying fear is a necessary evil?"

"Not even that it is evil. But we must know our fear. It is there to protect us, to guard us, to warn us. However, we must learn to live in equilibrium with it, to know when it is needed, and when we must fight it. Fear is our partner, guiding us, yet sometimes, holding us back. It is up to us to know when it attempts to help, and when it attempts to deceive. We can never submit fully to our fears, because they will hold us in a room that is safe, yet lonely and dark. We must know it, and know it well, for sometimes a moment will come where the difference is unknown, and we must decide if we can trust our fear or not."

"How can we make that decision? Our fear, as you state, is a part of us, we'd be fighting with ourselves."

"Precisely. When you have come to this crossroads, you will know it, because courage is no longer an option. Now you must simply weigh two fears, as they will contradict the other."

"I don't understand...how can our fears be contradictory?" Twilight raised an eyebrow, her skepticism clearly rising.

*Tick-Tock*

"One will fear pain, the other will fear sorrow. This is when you must ask yourself which you fear more, and your decision will become clear." I supply.

"But when will these contradictions arise? When will our fears battle so fiercely?"

"They have for you before."

"When?"

"You are a wielder of an element of harmony, yes? One of the few that dared to challenge Nightmare Moon during her short reign?"

"Yes..."

"It took a lot of fear to fight that battle."

"You mean courage."

"No, I mean fear. You were afraid of Nightmare Moon, were you not? That she may hurt or even kill you?"

"Yes, of course. But I still fought anyway, I acted in spite of fear."

"No Twilight, in this case you were simply more afraid of something else."

"So I was more afraid of the sorrow. The sorrow of letting my teacher, my friends, everyone down?"

"Yes. Your fear of sorrow won. But this fear has a name...



Bravery."



"So bravery and courage fundamentally different?"

"They are used interchangeably, but incorrectly so. A firefighter who charges into a burning building to save a life is courageous. A mother who charges in to save her foal is brave. The firefighter has no fear of NOT charging into the building, or if he does it is very little. But the mother is terrified, terrified of the sorrow of losing her foal. This fear is far greater than pain, or even death, so she acts."

"So what would a fearless pony do?"

"They would watch the building burn. But nopony is truly fearless, they would be useless. No fear of failure means no motivation. No fear of death means no desire to live. Fear must exist, but in harmony."

*Tick-Tock*

"So the meaning of fear is..."

"To remind us... 



to never be fearless, 




only courageous, 




or brave."







> Hero
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight continued to ponder, her questions clearly still myriad. I enjoyed this time immensely, having discussion with another pony who didn't go to sleep at the mention of 'philosophy' was rare enough, to find one who enjoyed it was truly spectacular. My time in the gaps is often filled with my drawings, with my readings, but most of all with my thoughts. There, in the silence, they resonated so clearly, that truly I could understand my own mind.

"Clockwork, tell me, many ponies have called my friends and me 'heroines' before because of our actions against Nightmare Moon, yet I've always been on the stance that we are not. Heroes, as you would argue, are given meaning by their contrast to a villain, but could they not exist independently of one another? What would you say?"

This question was startling, and clearly loaded. 

On one hoof, to give her praise and call her a hero could help me fall into good graces with the mare I cherished so deeply...

Yet she has stated she is not.

Was this modesty?

Or seeking an honest answer?

Wasn't modesty part of what made a hero?

Perhaps not.

To assign meaning to a term was easy, but definition?

The hero's meaning is to contrast the villain, yet couldn't a meaningful hero exist without one? Surely they could right?

And a meaningful villain without heroes? It seems logical...

But no, they could not...

For heroes could not do what makes them who they are without the contrast of their actions.

A hero does what is right, and for one to distinguish what is right, there must be wrong.

"Well, by what I would say is popular definition, yes, you are a hero, but not by mine."

Twilight sharply looked up from her tea.

"Oh?" 

Twilight glared at me, before regaining her composure with a quick deep breath,

*Tick-Tock*

"I appreciate your honesty, I guess." Twilight quickly returned to her tea, her brow furrowing.

I still do not understand other ponies.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, but by my definition, I don't think I could ever be a hero either. Very few ponies can. I would simply consider myself a good stallion at best, and you a good mare at the least."

"So what is this definition of yours, then? How is it different?"

"Do you remember our discussion on fear?"

"Of course."

"Well firstly, a hero must be courageous, not brave. If they are afraid of not taking action, then they are simply ordinary, yet brave. A hero must not be coerced into their deeds, they must be act simply on their will, no consequence shall come of their inaction."

"I suppose that makes sense. The motivation for my battle with Nightmare Moon was in part the consequences I would face for inaction, so that's why I'm not a heroine?"

"Partially."

"Partially? What else is there?"

"Your battle with Nightmare Moon, how did it end?"

"Well, after Nightmare Moon was transformed into Luna, princess Celestia reappeared, and the sisters made up after so many years."

"And after that?"

"There was a banquet to celebrate the reunion of the sisters."

"Were you and your friends honored at this banquet?"

"Of course."

"Then I would state this could also provide you are not a hero, simply a good mare."

"Why?"

"Earlier I spoke of recognition, that this is the motive to all our behavior. Could it have been a motivator in your fight as well?"

"Now hold on, I never asked to be honored..."

"No, but would you be upset if you weren't?"

"Of course not!"

"You were upset when I, a lone, undoubtedly crazy pony, said you were not a hero."

"...fair enough. Yes, I suppose I would be upset if I didn't receive some credit."

"Tell me, who else fought to stop Nightmare Moon?"

"My friends of course! Applejack, Pinkie Pie-"

"What about the two guards stallions who charged her as soon as she emerged, but were quickly knocked out?"

"Oh, uh, I guess I hadn't thought about them..."

"Can you tell me their names?"

"No...I don't know them."

"They were heroes, Twilight."

"But they didn't stop her! They didn't even slow her down for a second!"

"Exactly."

"Huh?"

"Tell me, Twilight, your battle with Nightmare Moon, was it hard?"

"It certainly wasn't a walk in the park...but looking back I did manage to win with just a few scrapes and bruises. I suppose I've had worse days, yeah."

"Those stallions were knocked unconscious and fell 30 feet to the hard ground. One broke his wing very badly."

"Why tell me this? Are you trying to make me feel guilty or something?"

"No! Not at all, I'm just trying to provide some context. You saved Equestria, there is no doubt, but there were others who fought. Do you believe winning is what makes a hero? In the end, must the hero always triumph?"

"No...I suppose not, but they were destroyed! It was stupid for them to fight her in the first place!"

"Again, exactly."

"I don't understand, what are you getting at with all this?"

"Twilight, my definition of a hero is not simple, nor is it happy. It is, and will always be, destined to be tragic. 

A hero is courageous, acting when there is no fear of not acting. Those stallions could have stood there on the ground and watched everything unroll safely from a distance. Yet they acted, in spite of tremendous fear, they acted. 

Secondly, a hero neither needs nor wants recognition, for their deed are self satisfactory, as they are recognized by themselves.

But mostly, a hero is separated by their will.

You see, a normal pony will do what is right when it is easy.

A good pony will do what is right when it is hard.

But a hero?

A hero does what is right...














When it is impossible.
> Spike Vs The Diary
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I smile as I finished my thoughts. To share these complex ideas with another pony was so foreign, yet so comfortable. I suddenly feel like all the time I had spent in my own head, all the eons of never-existent time, or solitude, were worth it. I am finally share my emotions, my thoughts, and my gaps with another...

Twilight places down her now empty teacup.

"You talk a lot." She states abruptly, with a frown and condescending eyebrows.

Oh...

"Well, yes, how else would I communicate with you?" I ask, hoping to seek a better method of expressing my ideas.

"Words are great for expressing these abstract ideas you have, but I, am a mare of science!" She suddenly interjects, raising her hoof in the air.

I am taken off guard by this, she so quickly goes from seemingly annoyed to proud and enthusiastic. How can she change mood so quickly?

"And you, Dr. Metaphysics, are in my park now!"

I...what?

"You see, we have a common love, we both love books, is that fair to say?"

"Uh, yes, that's fair."

"And since you, seem to have read every peace of parchment to ever touch ink in Equestria..."

I have never read diaries. 

"We're going to do something you've probably never done before."

"And that is?" I ask, genuinely intuitive, while somewhat annoyed.

"We're going to add to a field, not just learn what already exists. We're going to SCIENCE! Twilight stuck her hoof proudly in the air, eager to begin what was, to hear, I can only presume a most entertaining task.

I stood from the couch and walked over to her, still frozen in a strange victorious pose, with a hug grin, and a look of fire in her eyes. 

"Um, I know I'm not in a gap, you can move now."

"Right...anyway, to the laboratory!"

"Downstairs right?"

"In the basemen- oh jeeze you read the books in the basement too?!"

"Not your diary!"

"Good, because I...wait, my diary is in the lab?" Twilight suddenly perplexed.

"Yes, well last time I checked anyway. Also, are you also aware you have a small purple dragon reading your diary whilst dusting in your laboratory?"

Twilight gritted her teeth, "YeshIAmAwareOfASmallPurpleDragonWho'sSmallPurpleAssIsInSeriousTrouble."

"Uh..."


"SPIKE! GET UP HERE, NOW!"

and I thought teleportation was fast. I'm fairly certain he got up here in negative time, which should be impossible, yet...

"*ahem* this fine visitor informs me that he saw you reading my diary while you were dusting, is that true?" 

At the present moment, Twilight possessed a face. 

This was no ordinary face.

If this face were seen by gods, they would weep.

I am currently trying not to burst into flames due to simple vicinity, of this face.

If demons had Halloween, they would dress up as this face, and still scare each other holy.

I stepped into my gap, and decided, against my better judgment, to analyze this face.

Oh sweet Celestia.

I am compelled to draw this face, and use it as a home security system.

But as I finish the final lines, the paper inexplicably bursts into flames, proving that two of this face, cannot exist, even outside of time.

For some reason, I know to take a few steps back, before I step out of the gap.

So I do, and step out

The dragon speaks up, "uh, well, maybe just a tenseyittybittypeek?" Holding up a claw, as if to measure the insignificance of his peek.

The face has gone. 

"Spike...do you know what your punishment is?"

"Cleaning duty for a week?"

Twilight smiled and giggled, almost maliciously, while shaking her head "No..."

"Cleaning duty for a month?" The dragon, apparently named Spike, offered up.

"Not quite." 

The sing-songy way she says that causes my mane to stand on end.

"Oh come on Twilight! Anything but that! I didn't even read anything juicy, I swear!"

"Nope, the punishment must fit the crime. I don't know what all you read so I don't know how bad I need to punish you. Therefor you are receiving 'mystery punishment'."

Spike flings his fists in the air, deeply inhaling before letting out a bellowing "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

"Mystery Punishment?" I ask.

Spike gives me a dead pan expression, "It's the worst thing ever. Essentially, I have no idea what the punishment will be, or when it will pop up, but I have to clear my whole social calendar because as soon as I do, she has chores for me as part of 'mystery punishment'. I also can't get a good night's sleep because she could take away my gems while I'm sleeping as part of the punishment. Basically she does nothing until I finally crack and tell her what all I know, and she decides what's left from there."

Hm. Sounds effective. Punishment of paranoia. interesting.

"Why don't you just fess up now and get it over with?"

"Dude, you don't know twilight like I do. When you see that face, 3 days. You gotta wait 3 days for her to cool off."

He leaned in closer to me and whispered "Plus everyday I can hold out, the more paranoid she gets about what I know, so the bargain gets sweeter for me disclosing the info."

"I am standing right here you know! I know you're whispering!"

I do not understand other life forms.

"How often does this happen?" I ask, as Spike clearly has a battle plan.

"He tries this about once a season. I have no idea why he keeps doing it, he knows I'll catch him."

Spike whispered to me again, "I read this thing like it's the daily newspaper, but you had to but in and get me caught, so keep your mouth zipped, got it?"

I stand up, "That's not appropriate, nopony should ready diaries of others."

Twilight adorned a smug grin and nodded, "That's right spike. You should respect other's privacy."

I lean down and whisper "Does it say anything about a stallion named Clockwork?"

I said I didn't read diaries, I never said I didn't ask about them.

"Uh...no." Spike offered.

My heart sinks for a moment before I remember we've 'known' each other for a reality of 30 minutes.

"Alright Spike, give me the diary, I'll hide it...again...so about our experiment." Twilight mumbles as she tucked the diary into a dresser drawer.

"Hm?"

"I was hoping to run some tests on you, so we can get a better idea of how your special talent works."

"What, uh, what kind of tests?" I asked, made nervous now by the witnessed unbridled furry of Twilight.

Twilight looks up the stairs, at the retreating dragon, and back to me. Up the stairs, back to me. 




"Fun little 'field' tests..." 




I am never EVER touching this mare's diary.





> Change
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She wants to see things from my view.

Things which I have not seen for myself, for I have not thought to see them.

To see the changes I may make but have not dared to create, for no one would know but me.

But now, now that I can bring her with me, she can know. She can know the changes I could make.

So in my gaps, for all my days, I have found peace and loneliness.

Yet now she asks to see change beside me.

Is it right?

The world is changing, it is how we make the distinction that time has passed.

All the minuets and the seconds and the hours, they just mark an amount of change that has occurred, regardless of the change's significance.

Without this change, could time even exist?

And if these changes happen here, does time pass?

I have always existed outside of time, in my own way. I thought I understood it so well, so deeply. I was able to stand out and look in. This was all time brought, change. Good and bad, nothing stayed forever. Here, it would never move without my command.

Flowers bloom and foals are born.

Trees rot and death takes us all.

In the end, we are a story of change.

Written in flesh and soul, by the change we will all undergo, and the change we can only hope to leave behind.

So do I dare? Do I dare to command change when time will not be there to mark it? Is it right to usurp time's throne?

For I will change within my gaps because I am not marked by time. I slip through it's grasp, an exception.

But to take the world from it's grasp? Was I freeing it or poisoning it?

Am I a decenter of tyranny, or a disrupter of the peace?

Would I be an angel? Or a demon?

Is this freedom, or anarchy?

Is this use, or abuse?

Is this my right?

It must.

For by this gift or this curse I have been given the opportunity to produce change of time itself.

So time must live by it's own rules,

and change with itself.

And so with great power over this world, or with pathetic submission to my desire,

I do as she asks, and change this world before time itself can notice.

I do so little yet so much.

I take a book from a young dragon's hands, 'Power Ponies Vol. 16', and place another in it's place, 'Crime & Punishment'.

Fitting, I suppose.

Both in the mind games Twilight had planned, but also because here I was, a powerful pony indeed.

But was this a crime?

Or was the crime to hold on?

Time has brought change, but I have preserved, all that I hate and all that I adore.

So am I taking power away from time by changing without it?

Or giving it back by allowing change to pass where time cannot reach?

I cannot know unless I act.

So I have acted, and soon...

I will know.






 


> Flesh and Soul
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the world comes rushing back Twilight smiles mischievously at me, as an audible 'What the-" is heard from upstairs.

"So you switched the books huh? He clearly noticed." Twilight grinned.

The perturbed dragon walks down the stairs to face us, "Haha, very funny Twilight, what kind of magic is this? Some sort of new teleportation spell or something?"

Twilight giggles, "It's a mystery, remember?"

"Well whatever you did, next time be more careful, I got a papercut, ya know." Spike huffs, holding out his tiny thumb, a thin line of blood running down it.

"Oops, sorry about that part, Spike. I'll get you a bandaid."

A papercut?

So it was possible. 

The changes I made within my gaps, unmarked by time, may still carry over into the world outside my own.

And my first was change written in flesh.

Guilt weighed upon me. While my morals were often tested by my gift, I hood stood by many throughout, and one was never to physically harm another being. For many, this was not so clear, there were threats present to them which could not be escaped in another way, while I may always simply vanish.

But for the first time, I hurt another's body, however unintentionally.

I am lucky it was not more grievous. 

Spike sucks on his thumb, cleaning his wound.

He pulls his thumb from his mouth, glancing down, as another droplet of blood begins to pool, then trickle. "Man, this thing won't quit," he comments before shoving the thumb back to his mouth.


"Here you are Spike, a little bandaid for your owwy..." Twilight speaks demeaninly, yet sarcastically, as she raps the bandaid around his cut, "All better!"

Spike huffs, "Yeah, yeah, just don't do it again ok?"

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't," She replies smugly, "it's still a mystery after all."

"Yeah, well the mystery will be who wants to check out any books with blood all over the pages..." Spike marches off, back to resume his activities upstairs. 

"That was amazing!" Twilight remarks enthusiastically, "He shrugged it off so easily! You really have to be drastic to make anypony notice don't you?"

"Indeed. I've even told others of my gift but it seems to just...wash over them. It's always been dismissed in some way or another."

"Why don't you pull them in with you like you did to me?" Twilight offers.

"Before you, I had never even considered it a possibility. But even if I had, I don't think I would. My gaps are very sacred to me, to share them must be for good reason, and with someone I trust. Your reason was pure, interest for the unknown which you believed to exist. Besides, in a way, you wanted my gaps to be real, you were not so deeply bogged in skepticism that your mind could dare to accept the impossible."

"I guess I should be honored then..." she giggles, "but why do you trust me so much?"

"I...I don't know."

The world slips away once more.

It was true, I had no idea why I trusted her. While I had been given no evidence not to, but now that I look back, I cannot think of another with whom I would share such vulnerability.

My life has been lived over a safety net. Whenever things got rough, or danger presented, I could always trust my gaps as a means of escape. Nothing could hurt me there, I was safe from all harm. I was preserved.

Yet I brought her with me without second thought. I showed her the one place she could harm me, truly, deeply, but the thought that she would had never even entered my head. Perhaps because she was already able to hurt me anyway, just in a different way...

I spent so much time alone, I had grown accustomed to thinking myself as separated from normal ponies. They were not the same as me, they were almost an enigma, a puzzle I was still learning to solve. Thus, when their thoughts of me were negative, I would try to 'fix' them, though often I could not. When I could not, it was chalked to our differences, another thing that separated me from the rest of ponies.

But for reasons I cannot understand, what she thinks matters greatly to me, and if her thoughts of me fall ill, it will pain me, not confuse me.

She can hurt me, gaps or not, simply by her thoughts. If her thoughts held that much power regardless, then by the time her actions were even present, I would already be defeated.

The world rushes back.

"Well, for whatever reason, I'm glad you trust me, I trust you too, strangely enough." She beams.

I can't help but smile too.

I guess I was wrong.

The first change I made in my gaps was not one of flesh.

In my quiet lonely world I dared to share with another brought I brought about a much greater change.

I gained the trust of a pony dear to me.

My first change within my gaps

was a change of the soul.









> Consequences 
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The changes I have made outside the rule of time have persisted within it. As I dared to defy the natural order of an already chaotic world, my changes, as small or large they may be, have remained.

The worlds in which I exist are connected by myself, a gap that only I can bridge. For the first time I have dared to let another cross this gap, and see the world which is invisible to most.

As she continues to smile, I realize that my love for her seems to feel eternal. For I have long acknowledged that all is subject to the change of time, I feel this is immune. I hope this is true, for the knowledge I have gained within my gaps has always preserved, so surely my emotions would do the same?

Why was this? In the myriad of complex thoughts and knowledge I had accrued for an invisible eternity, I remembered it all. Every book, every picture, every gap I had no issue to preserve. Yet the actions and names of others which I have only gained in time's world seemed to fade, to erode, the longer I spent in its world. My changes in mind were eternal.

I seemed only to forget my existence within time as time progressed, yet my time within gaps was immune to it's change. Were these worlds so starkly separated that time could not affect my timeless changes? It made sense, as the changes of time certainly never reached me within my gaps. 

Was it possible that the bridges I had created between these worlds were so utterly destroyed when I closed my gaps that they could no longer effect one another?

This would mean that the power I held was far more dangerous, and frightening than I had originally believed. Eventually, all of my life outside the gaps would be erased, washed away, by time. I would forget all that I had known of the ordinary world before I lost a second of my own. 

But far more frightfully, it meant the changes I made were no longer subject to the affect of time, as if they were rejected. They were eternally preserved.

The weight of my actions were eternal, all decisions I made could never be undone within the flow of time.

My heart pounded.

The feelings Twilight had gained for me, the trust and love she found within my gap would be eternal, as my feelings for her were as well. 

My changes in soul stood eternal.

But Spike...

My heart ponded again.

His cut...

The world comes rushing back.

"Twilight, how is Spike's cut?!" I ask, terrified of what her answer might be.

"Whoa there! What's wrong Clockwork? It was just an accident, he's fine." Twilight was shocked at my sudden and intense concern.

"No...no, you don't understand...how long does it take a papercut to stop bleeding?" I ask, frantically, the implications of my actions weighed upon me like a sea of guilty.

"Very quickly, Clockwork, really, don't worry. It'll probably stop within the minute," she reassures, her voice, soothing while confused. "You really don't like hurting anyone do you?" She placed her hoof on my shoulder, "We all make mistakes, but really, you're blowing this out of proportion."

"I hope you're right Twilight...I hope you're right."

"Why wouldn't I be?" She asks.

"Twilight?" A voice calls from upstairs.

"Yes Spike?" She answers.

"The bandaid isn't working, this things still bleeding like crazy..." His voice doesn't contain a hint of concern, just annoyance.

"It hasn't slowed down at all?" Twilight asks, then looking to me with a concerned expression.

My heart won't stop pounding.

"No, do we have some gauze?"

"Um, yeah, I'll get you some Spike..." She calls back again, before looking at me, her eyes heavy with concern, "Clockwork, what's going on?"

My heart stopped.

So it was true...

My changes in flesh stood eternal as well.

I had to fix this, but how? His body wouldn't heal his wounds...this change was immune to the normal flow of time.

So it had to change back outside of time.

I open yet another gap, and gallop upstairs, leaving Twilight to stare at an empty space. Quickly, I tear the bandaid from Spike's finger. It was such a tiny cut, a thin line of crimson blood marring his skin. Ordinarily, it would be nothing more than a nuisance, but if the cut never closed, such a minor wound could kill the the largest beast, if given enough time. But Spike was just a child, how could such little change hold such heavy consequence?

Would I be responsible for the death of a child?

I refused to let it be so.

Time resumes, and spike jolts, as I seem to randomly blip into existence directly in front of him.

"Jeez dude, where did you come from?!" Spike asks, holding his claws in front of him instinctually.

"Listen to me, Spike, I know you have no idea who I am, but this cut is my fault, and I have to fix it."

"Um, it's okay mr, uh..."

"Clockwork."

"Clockwork? That's a weird name. Are you a watchmaker or something?" He asks, suddenly curious.

"No, I'm...it's complicated. Listen, I have to fix that cut."

"I don't see what the big deal is, it's just a papercut, besides, you didn't give it to me, Twilight did." He grumbles.

"No, I did, but it was an accident."

"An accident huh? So this wasn't part of mystery punishment?" He asks.

"No, Spike, just the book switch, but that's when I cut your finger."

"Wait...huh? I was staring at the book the whole time, there's no way you could have actually switched the books without me noticing...It was just an illusion spell or something, right?" His eyebrows raise at the sudden change of circumstance

"No, I...again, it's complicated. Just...I need to fix this, so you need to trust me, ok?"

"Um, Ok?"

"Grab my hoof, and hold on tight."

Spike did this, and I began to open a gap. This was my only chance, if the cut was made outside of time, it could not be fixed within it. This was the only place it may heal...

I hoped.
> What Heals Without Time
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the world once again rushed away, I find myself standing in the world of my creation, hoping only to stave off more serious destruction. 

The library once agin stands perfectly still, and the outside world along with it. The deafening silence again returns, as though the world had been hushed by a mountain of snow. 

Stillness.

Silence.

Spike stood, apparently shocked at what he saw. No matter how calm the world of time may have been when you left it, the change is stark, and instantly recognizable. 

Spike began to wander, waving his clam through the air, as if testing waters he had already been submerged within. 

Much like his mentor, he turns to me and opens his mouth as if to speak, only to meet silence. He tries again, seeming to yell, but again, not a peep.

I walk over to him, and seems afraid, confused.

I cannot comfort him with my words, or even explain what is going on, so I do the next best thing, and motion him downstairs.

He follows closely behind, until he sees Twilight, and quickly rushes up to her, shouting in silence. He remembers that he cannot be heard, and instead stand in front of her, flailing his arms frantically.

Twilight does not respond. 

Just as he is about to poke her, I swat his claw away with my hoof, and shake my head at him.

He mustn't touch her, lest he injure her in any way, even by accident.

I levitate my sketchpad and pencil over and begin to write,

She can't see you, Spike. She, and the rest of the world are frozen in time.

I show him the pad and he gives me an almost quizzical look, as if to say 'how?' or perhaps even 'why?'

Once again I begin to write,

This is my special talent. I can create gaps between seconds in time, and move about freely. It's how I switched the books

Spike quickly reads, and then nods, but still seems remarkably confused. He grabs the pad and pencil from my aura, and begins to write himself.

How and why am I here?

I levitate the pad and pencil back, 

The papercut I gave you, it won't heal outside of my gaps. If it never heals, it may eventually kill you.

Spike held up his thumb, the trickle of blood already beginning to slow scab. He once again licked his wound clean, and saw that already, it had stopped bleeding.

He held it up proudly and smiled, showing his cut had already closed.

I shook my head, we couldn't go back, not yet.

Spike raised his eyebrow and mouthed 'Why?'

I write again,

We cannot go back until the cut is completely healed, even if it has stopped bleeding, what you have now will stay with you forever.

As I show him the note, his jaw drops, and frantically he gabs the pad and scribbles,

That could take days!!

On the contrary, it will take no time at all.

He gives me a 'smart ass' look and rolls his eyes before once again writing,

Well, it'll feel like days, what should we do in the meantime?

Do?

I had always been quite content with 'doing' very little, if not nothing. In scale to some of my longer gaps, this would be extremely short. I felt as though we should simply sit and wait. The world outside my own moves so very fast, and it was exhausting. Did the dragon know nothing of calm? Sure, occasionally I would read within my gaps, or even draw, but more than anything else, I would simply sit. Think.

I suppose to those who dwelled solely within the rushing world, to do nothing was tedious, boring. Not because it was not enjoyable, simply because it was a waste of time. 

And to normal ponies, time was very, very precious. You could tell how precious it was by the ways they measured it, clocks, timers and alarms, all built to keep ponies on time. Entire monuments and towers to keep entire cities on time. Alarms so ponies would not 'waste' their time with such necessary acts as sleeping.

They were always in a hurry, seeking to pack as much as possible into a day, then a week, a month, a lifetime. 

Could they imagine a life without this rush? Likely not, as they were all weighed down by an inexorable knowledge...

The knowledge their time on this world was finite.

I was somewhat lifted from this burden. Through my gift I had found never a need to hurry, or rush. I had all the time in the world at my disposal, what concerns did I have of being late or early? I had no watch, nor calendar, for to measure my life seemed not to live it.

But I knew I could not live eternally. I knew that every gap must close, and a new second must come to pass, then a minute, then a day. There was a reason Celestia limited each day, and reasons our lives must be finite. 

For as I have seen in myself, to live forever would be the most horrendous waste of all, as every life must be limited. 



This is what makes our time so precious.



I suddenly notice that Spike has vanished. I was so accustomed to being able to dwell within my own thoughts without external interaction that I had forgotten his presence. I look around the library, only to discover the door had been left open.

I can only he hope he has not changed anything yet.

As I gallop out the door, I quickly find him standing in the town square, making strange faces at the many townsfolk, then silently laughing.

I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful he has not yet found his way into a more troublesome predicament.

I gallop towards him, making sure he does not wander off again, and nudge him back to the library.

His face shows annoyance, but I do not yet know the damage I may cause, and I hope never to find out.

As we return to the library, I again inspect his finger. Curiously, it seems to have healed almost completely.

Spike seems confused by this fact as well, but quickly shrugs, mouthing something before flexing and smiling proudly.

I do not know if this is the work of the gaps, or if dragon scales simply heal more quickly than pony flesh, but whatever the reason, I am glad the wound is gone.

Do you feel any pain? I write, and he simply shakes his head 'no'.

Is it sensitive at all? He prods his cut with another finger, bending it a few times, and again, shakes his head 'no'.

Then hold on.

And the world comes rushing back. 


> Acceptance
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight jolts at my sudden disappearance, before looking about to discover I had only moved within the room and was now accompanied by her young dragon.

"Clockwork, where...what just happened?" She asks, trying to keep up within the normal flow of time.

"Oh Twilight it was so cool! Clockwork just appeared out of nowhere and was suddenly like 'take my hoof if you want to live', so I did, and suddenly everything got all still and quiet, and you weren't moving and you couldn't see me and Clockwork told me he froze time and now my paper cut's all better, see?" He enthusiastically just forward his thumb for Twilight to inspect.

The cut, much to my own disbelief, was now completely invisible, and the effects of my change in flesh were seemingly reversed. Twilight eyes the cut before patting her dragon on the head before speaking, "That's nice, Spike. Why don't you go back upstairs and keep reading that book I recommended. I have to ask Clockwork a few questions."

"Aww.." is the only response the young one can seem to manage before begrudgingly trudging back upstairs.

Twilight watches him go, before turning back to me with a mixture of confusion and relief.

"Clockwork, what just happened? What did you just do?"

I sigh, this would certainly not be easy to explain, for even as I was the only pony to know myself deeply, even I was at a loss for answers.

"When Spike's paper cut wouldn't stop bleeding, I realized something. Much of the extent of my abilities is still unknown to me, and the implications they hold may be far more serious than I could have ever predicted."

Twilight raises an eyebrow, "Such as..?"

"From what I can gather, time is constantly working as a force of change within our world. When I changed something outside of its realm, it was almost like it couldn't recognize it. It wasn't a change of time, so it was rejected."

"Meaning?"

"The cut existed outside the normal flow of time. Our world didn't seem to be able to tell anything had changed, so it didn't know how to, well, fix it."

"So when time should have healed Spike's wound..."

"Not only could his body not recognize the wound, all of time couldn't. It would stay just the way it was, as far as I can tell, forever."

"So..." Twilight gasps as she realizes the implications and weight this withholds, "Spike would have bled out! He would have died from that tiny little paper cut!"

"Precisely."

"That explains why you were so concerned, but how did you heal it? And for that matter, how did I or Spike recognize it was there?"

"I'm afraid that by pulling you into this gap, and changing Spike's body outside the flow of time, I may have...tainted you, in a way. That which bound you so closely to the flow of time has been weakened by my interference. You've both existed outside of time, in a way."

"Does that mean..?"

"I believe so. Everything I change within my gaps becomes slightly detached from the flow of time." I hang my head low. The consequences of such changes stood so fierce now. My decisions were, and are, essentially eternal. While I may always open new gaps to try and 'fix' what is broken, after my passing, I will leave this world forever changed. Not only that, but the ponies and others I had so recklessly involved would now be, if only slightly, altered.

Twilight sits quietly, pondering this for a moment, whilst pressing a hoof to her chin.

"I can see now why you are so hesitant to do anything of significance within the gap. It's dangerous."

I nod.

"But Spike's cut healed within the gap didn't it? So the changes you make are not irreversible." She offers hopefully.

"I'm still not entirely sure how it works. Spikes wound healed within the gap, but not naturally. It was almost instantaneous." I reply, equally confused.

"That is peculiar," Twilight mused, "What of your drawings? Or the books you've read? Will they become timeless? Never deteriorating or rotting away?"

"Perhaps...I'm not sure. I haven't been alive long enough to see how inanimate objects are effected in the normal flow of time." I reply. It would not be so bad if these changes remained forever, to leave a legacy of the gaps which only I seem to have known upon this world, like ancient footprints, fossilized and preserved.  

But even so, as much heartache as change may bring us, it must come and go for the world to progress, and I have little doubt that with enough time, the things I have left eternal will become drivel.

"I see." She replies, "Clockwork...what does this mean? I mean, if I'm detached from time..."

"Unfortunately, Twilight, this is another question I can't answer. I simply don't know."

"I guess time will tell." She offered.

"I guess so..."

"Also, I've been meaning to ask you something..."

"Yes, Twilight?"

She looks nervous, blushing suddenly,

"About our...um...about our kiss." She rubs her foreleg with her opposite hoof, while looking down at the floorboards. 

I swallowed hard, "Yes?"

Why was she nervous? Was she ashamed? Regretful?

"I don't know why, but it felt so right to kiss you, then and there." I breathe a heavy sigh of relief,  "Like, it was just the right moment..."

I clear my throat, "I know how you feel, I too felt this way."

"I barely knew you, and yet..."

"You felt something words can't quite describe." I finish. Somehow, just through her eyes I could see what it was she felt, and I knew the feeling well, for it resided within me the same.

"Yes, exactly...and...and I still feel that way now."

"The feeling has not left me either." I smile.

"Does that mean...that I'll feel like this forever? I can't explain it, but somehow, the moment you opened that door, I knew my life would be changed forever." She looks up, meeting my eyes.

I stare for a while, but look away with a sigh, "I cannot say, Twilight."

"But if it stays with me, it'll stay with you, right?" She asks, almost frantic

I turn back to her and smile, "I would think so."

I promptly receive the second kiss of my life.

"I think...I think I'm okay with that."

> This Feeling
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have been of the belief that the emotions of ponies are, and will continue to be, an inexorably complex matter. While we may assign labels to these feelings, they cannot be understood simply by their name. In short, to put an emotion into words other than their name was almost impossible.

Our emotions are also fluid, changing before our vary eyes not only from subject to subject, but also within the subject itself as time progresses. Almost never are our emotions so sternly cemented that we may truly announce how we feel about something. To say we would always feel the same about any subject, with absolute honesty, should be impossible. 

Yet I feel I can say this, and know it to be true.

To further complicate matters, our emotions can not only contradict one-another, but can be contradictory in themselves. This is not a rare occurrence, many have been named. Melancholy, passionate, even infatuated. These mixed emotions can be troublesome and confusing, weighing heavy on our minds and our souls.

Many emotions which are pure may be mixed within our beings with others, even their opposite. It is wholly possible to feel both joy and sorrow simultaneously. 

Pride and regret.

Anger and caring.

Our emotions stand and clash amongst each other like hungry dogs, fighting for dominance. There is an old adage that the emotion that grows, the dog that wins, is the one you feed. It is true that this feeling may become predominant within you, it may 'win'...

but the other dog will still be there.

Love, however, stands unique. Love is an interesting emotion, as it is undoubtedly mixed far more than any other. The love a parents feels for its child will likely be tried and blended with the entire spectrum of emotions as their youth matures.

Love, however, is never mixed with it's opposite. It cannot be.

It is of common belief to many ponies that the opposite of love is hate.

I do not believe it to be so.

Both love and hate exist within a spectrum of passion, of deep emotion and feeling, and it is very possible for these emotions to clash together, bringing about many of the conflicts in our brief existence.

The opposite of love stands as indifference.

Not malice, nor disgust nor fear.

Simple, cold, indifference.

To be indifferent to another does not only include to be indifferent of their sorrows, but also of their joys. Their emotions resonate within you so quietly that they cannot be heard.

This is another way that I know I love Twilight.

For I have recognized my care for her. I have accepted that despite the brevity of our company, I have fallen in love with Twilight Sparkle.

Was this possible? I just met her and yet...

I would move mountains to see her smile.

I know with certainty that my love for this mare will stand every bother of time. It will remain unchanged. Not because she or I are perfect, simply because she is who she is.

I can never not care of the emotions of Twilight Sparkle.

Yet something irks me, something which I have opened this gap to understand.

In this perfect moment, the way I feel towards her seems to be mislabeled as love, or at least, love alone.

There is more.

There is wonder.

There is doubt.

There is awe and unbridled admiration. 

This feeling is not love alone.

It is more.

I search. I search long and hard to find the label. Through all of the languages to be printed, through all of my mental tomes and dictionaries to find a word, a simple word which would wholly and perfectly describe this feeling.

There is none.

Like all our emotions, to each other, to ideas, to objects themselves, the way we feel is unique.

This feeling has no name, this feeling has no label, this feeling has no vocal expression.

Except one.

This feeling is simply that which it is.

The way I feel about Twilight Sparkle.

And in my greatest dream, and highest hope,

It is the way she feels about me too.


> Memories
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 As I dare to venture further into the depths of my own emotion, I find myself quite frightened by a simple truth which I have stumbled upon not only about this world, but about myself.

My existence has been brief, as compared to the grand scheme of the world which I have devoted such great time to study. My physical existence can be measured in years, but my consciousness seems to stand alone. 

The memories I have formed, the emotions I have embraced and the knowledge I have collected in my gaps seem unaltered by the standard affliction of time which erodes the minds of most ponies. My memories stand pure and fresh as the gap they were formed. 

This is a burden I alone must carry.

To say I am a burdened genius is of course grossly egotistical. Genius is artistic. Genius is the ability to use the knowledge which has been accrued by past lives and form something new, something beautiful. I simply have my memories.

But perhaps memories also carry great power.

I am of the belief that we are born a blank slate, or soul and psyche are completely moldable. Because of this I have long searched for the answer to an age of question; If we are born the same, how do we all end up so different?

I have concluded it is our memories that make us who we are.

Memories make our decisions, our biases, our beliefs. Without our memories we are merely nebulous, without a sense of identity. 

But what is it when we remember everything? 

Within my mind there have been few memories of great impact, as all are remembered equally. I have no bias or personality by which to sway my opinion, and this frightens me greatly. Am I truly a creature of simple logic? If so, what is there to separate me from an automaton? I ask this now with such great fervor not because I have not considered it before, but because now...

It matters. 

Before her, my emotions were so dormant that I had long accepted I was a being of simple logic and my decisions were made on probability alone. Now my emotions drove to act in ways that I would never have dreamt before. They have made me behave...illogically.

Yet strangely enough, this brings me great joy. To know that there is vulnerability within my soul is simultaneously frightening and empowering. To know that I may love and hurt and be hurt reminds me that I am alive. 

And I feel for the first time that which I have given outwards so frequently...

Meaning.

I feel now what the planets and stars feel when they are admired through a telescope. I feel the simple joy of being recognized myself. I question for the first time in a long while that perhaps my purpose is not merely outward, but introspective as well. I am recognized. Where I was once lifeless in a sense I have been given life anew by her. I have been given meaning by the impacts and emotions I bring to others and myself through my actions. 

I break my gap and return to her.

"Twilight...thank you."

She seems caught off guard by the statement, it I find that I must remind myself that she feels only a moment has passed.

"What, for the kiss?" She asks, befuddled, "You don't really need to thank me for that..."

I chuckle, something I have not done in a very long time, before responding, "Yes, but also for what you have given me."

"Given you?" She raises an eyebrow, as if trying to recall.

"Yes. It would seem you have given me something quite invaluable."

"Oh? And what is that?"

"A reminder that I am alive, and a memory that I am glad I can never forget."

"What do you mean 'you can never forget'?"

"Twilight, you should know that I remember everything that happens to me within my gaps, every second of every one. My mind is weighed with this knowledge, and sometimes it is a curse." 

"You can't forget anything?" She asks, "What is that like?"

"Difficult." I reply, "To me the passage of time seems so fast. I feel as though I must act on what I have learned, which is myriad, and not on how I feel, which is sparse. You are the first pony I have met in a long time whom I can carry on a conversation with without stepping into my gaps."

"Why?" She asks.

"When I communicate with most ponies, I do not reply based on emotion or desire, I simply follow scripts. I have memorized everything ever said to me, and every possible response, but in doing so I had forgotten that we are meant to believe what we say to others. I had long been of the belief that I was simply to say that which would get me the most amicable response. It was not lying, per se, I just...found the words and actions that made my life amongst others easiest. But with you...it's like I'm improvising. I'm making up everything as I go, and I'm constantly terrified I'm going to say the wrong thing."

Twilight giggles, which is a response I did not expect.

"Clockwork, that's not as abnormal as you seem to think. We all have our scripts. The little things we say every day without even thinking about it. But that isn't really communication, it's just manners. True communication is what we are doing now, it's all made up on the fly. Believe me when I say I have that fear too, but it's worse for me because I know that if I say the wrong thing you'll step into your gap and analyze it for...well, what seems like hours to you."

This brings me a strange mix of comfort and sadness. Sadness because I do not want her to be afraid, but comfort because it means she feels another piece of what I feel for her.

"But these conversations," she continues, "are what make memories for ponies like us. We share our emotions and our thoughts with one another. We dare to challenge and complicate our beliefs. We remember these conversations, and they add to what make us who we are..."

I smile, "Like we're just a swirling mix..."

"of feelings and memories."