The first strange thing that Pinkie Pie noticed was that her mirror was gone. Vanished, stolen, spirited away – the darned thing just wasn’t there, leaving a big empty spot in her bathroom. Instead of seeing her lovely pink visage, she was face to face with an unpainted grey square of wall, with an unsightly crack running right down the middle.

Pinkie frowned as she tapped a hoof against her chin. Had she needed a mirror for some sort of cunning plan or crazy caper? That would make sense. There were probably lots of amazing pranks that could be pulled with a well-placed mirror. But she couldn’t remember any such plan, and it’s not like she was one to forget a well-played prank. Or a disastrous one, either – on the whole, they tended to fall into one of those two categories.

Well, maybe somepony was playing a prank on her. It wasn’t a particularly funny one in that case, just inexplicable. But Rainbow Dash did get some odd ideas sometimes, or maybe Twilight had decided to try and get back at the two of them for switching her shampoo for pink mane dye last month. It would be just like that silly filly to read all sorts of books on how to carry out a flawless plan and then forget about the basic need to make it funny.

It would just be an inconvenience for now. Pinkie reached up with one hoof to feel her mane. Appropriately springy and untamed, check! She ran a brush through it a few times just to make sure it was properly poofy but not frazzled, and turned on the faucet to take a drink. Swishing the water around in her mouth, she washed out the remnants of whatever bad taste had been left behind from last night.

Last night... What exactly had she done last night? She couldn’t remember at all! That probably meant a party, although to be fair any night meant a party, if she had any say in the matter. But it wasn’t very often that she forgot about a party afterwards, except for certain adult-pony parties that got particularly out of hoof. Even then she should have been able to remember at least something before the liberal application of cider tended to make her mind blurrier.

It was like a blank spot in her memory. She could recall things that had happened reasonably far back – like sneaking into the Canterlot Library with Twilight, or their train mystery adventure on the way to the National Dessert Competition, or that horrible business with the mirror pond, but anything recent, any memories about yesterday or the day before were just... gone. Like she had a hole in her head and they had just fallen out.

It worried her more than she would have liked to admit. But Pinkie Pie knew the best approach to a problem like this: put on a big smile! She could always go talk to one of her friends and figure out what she had missed. She just wished that her mirror was there, so she could see her big reassuring grin.

It lost some of its effect when smiling at a dumb blank wall.

Pinkie trotted down the stairs to the first floor of Sugarcube Corner, humming a happy song to herself. Her bouncy gait was noticeably more restrained than usual, but she was making the effort to deliberately perk up.

After all, Pinkie was not a morning pony – which may have come as a surprise to most who knew her. There didn’t seem to be any time of the day when she wasn’t full of energy and happiness, but such an attitude took a lot of hard work – plus the timely help of two triple-frosted raspberry cupcakes first thing in the morning, a sugar-rush kickstart to the day that Mrs. Cake always had ready and waiting for her.

Some ponies swore by coffee, but blech! Too bitter. Pinkie didn’t even like tea that much, though she would indulge for the sake of Fluttershy or Rarity. If she had her way, it’d be milkshakes at every meal – strawberry, vanilla, triple fudge – there was a flavor for just about any circumstance. Right about now, a chocolate-banana twist sounded particularly tempting, more sugar to go alongside her cupcakes.

“Mrs. Cake?” she called out hopefully. “Do you mind if I...”

Her voice trailed off as she noticed the strange silence in the shop. Normally at this time of the morning, there’d already be a few customers. Some of Ponyville’s elderly residents liked getting up at the very crack of dawn to get breakfast and gab about the good ol’ days, and the Cakes opened early to accommodate them. At the very least, there should be the sounds of baking coming from the kitchen, along with delicious smells wafting around from cupcakes, muffins, and all manner of pastries.

Instead, nothing. No sounds, no smells. Pinkie could see that the sign on the door was still flipped around to display ‘CLOSED’ to those looking in. She peeked her head into the kitchen to confirm, but it was empty, everything neatly stored away and no signs of any visitors.

Curiouser and curiouser. Perhaps the Cakes had taken a vacation? Surely they would have told her, if so. Unless – oh, of course! Her memory was still being all uncooperative. Maybe they had told her and she didn’t remember. Oooh, she sure hoped she wasn’t supposed to take care of Pound and Pumpkin in that case.

A sound broke the unnatural stillness of Sugarcube Corner as somepony knocked on the front door in an irregular rhythm. Pinkie jumped at the sound, but after the initial jolt of surprise subsided, she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the Cakes just forgot their keys... somehow. She scrunched up her brow as she tried to wrap her head around some possibility that would have everything make sense.

The pony outside knocked again at an excited tempo. Pinkie shook her head and trotted over. She would just solve this mystery right here and now, and then everything would make sense and she could go get her cupcakes and...

As she swung the door open, she froze. In front of her was another Pinkie Pie.

She stared with wide eyes, both of them not moving so much as a muscle.

Slowly she tilted her head to the side. The other Pinkie did the same, mirroring her action.

She raised a hoof and waved it slightly. The other Pinkie’s hoof moved upwards through the air.

She stuck out her tongue. The other Pinkie’s own tongue extended in response.

“You know,” Pinkie said, “I can tell you’re copying me. You’re like a whole second behind my movements.”

The other Pinkie Pie dissolved into giggles. “Hee hee hee! I know, but it’s so fun! You should have seen your face!”

Pinkie sternly frowned at her doppelganger.

“No one else ever lets me do that anymore!” the other Pinkie exclaimed, as she managed to get her laughter under control. “Oh, you are the best!”

Pinkie opened her mouth, a thousand questions all coming at once. “What— Who—” She paused to take a breath and collect her mixed-up thoughts. “Hi! Uh. Why are you here?”

The other Pinkie gasped and stood up straight and tall, raising one hoof in a salute. “I am here on a mission of great urgency!” she said. “I am here to...” She slumped down again, tapping at her forehead with both hooves. “Oh no, I forgot again!”

Pinkie bit her lip. This did remind her of the one time with Twilight and... hm. “Are you... Are you from the future?” she asked.

The other Pinkie’s head slowly rotated as she processed the question, ending up at an odd angle before snapping back to normal. “Whaaat? I don’t think so! Wouldn’t I know if I was from the future? Unless I was actually a robot!” Then a light flicked on in her eyes and her mouth curved upwards into an impossibly wide grin. ”Wait, or, unless you’re from the past instead! Ohmygoodness Sixie, are there jungles and caveponies and dinosaurs?!”

Pinkie stared at the other pony, a slight frown creasing her face. Was this what she normally acted like? Surely not. She knew for a fact that her friends found her antics to be delightfully quirky, not... annoying. Surely. “No,” she said, “I—”

“No dinosaurs? That doesn’t sound like a very good past to me. What about pirates? Hey, hey, hey, I’ve got a good one – where did the pirate keep his buccaneers?”

“What?” Pinkie said, completely lost.

“On either side of his buckin’ head! Hee hee hee!” The other Pinkie seemed to find her own joke to be tremendously entertaining, failing to notice the lack of appreciation from her audience. “Oh, oh! Why do pirates hate saying the alphabet?”

“No,” Pinkie said firmly. “Stop. I’m not from the past. I’m just trying to figure out what you’re doing here.”

The other Pinkie pouted, puffing her cheeks out in an attempt to look cute. “I was trying to remember when you interrupted me with your obsession with pirates, silly! Oh, Number Two is going to be upset with me again, I just know it!”

“Number Two?”

“Yep! Hey, that’s it!” A grin on the other Pinkie’s melted away into a serious expression. “I’m here because Number Two requested my specific set of skills. Finding you was the easy part, a trivial matter for a pony of my caliber. But now, I must ask that you cooperate as I escort you to...”

She paused, rearing back on her hind legs and raising her hooves high for dramatic emphasis. “Breakfast!”

Pinkie’s mouth twisted uncertainly before deciding on a worried smile. “Um. Right. That sounds fantastic, but I just realized that I left my uh... My toaster running!” She winced at the transparent lie.

“Oh no! You better go catch it!” The other Pinkie’s eyes were wide with concern.

Surely, Pinkie was also a little bit brighter than this strange copy.

“Right. Be right back.” Pinkie hurriedly closed the door, immediately locking it again. She sighed deeply and slumped down to the wooden floor, thoughts spinning through her head.

What was going on? Could... could those changelings be back? What if they were trying to replace her? That was it, wasn’t it? An elaborate trick to get her out in the forest alone where she could be captured and the other pony could take her spot. They might have already gotten to the Cakes!

She needed to find her friends. Twilight would know what to do. Pinkie shuddered at the arrival of a fresh wave of paranoia. As long as Twilight wasn’t already captured and replaced...

There was no sense in dwelling on that thought. Twilight was much too clever to be tricked and with her magic, she couldn’t be easily overpowered. Yes, all Pinkie needed to do was to get to the library, find Twilight, and they’d sort this whole thing out in a jiffy.

Her smile returned, this time signifying newfound hope. She had a plan. She trotted into Sugarcube Corner’s kitchen, each movement purposeful and deliberate. The other Pinkie was watching the front entrance – which meant it would be easy as pie to slip out the back door. At the thought of pie, her stomach rumbled again, reminding her that she still hadn’t had her cupcakes. Those would have to wait.

Right as her hoof stretched out to open the back door, she heard keys jingling as somepony unlocked it from the other side. She froze. How did—

Wait. No, this was good! It was probably just Mr. Cake, and maybe she could get his help in distracting the other Pinkie. She would hate to put him in the way of danger, though, and if it really was a changeling they were—

The door swung open revealing neither Mr. or Mrs. Cake. It was another Pinkie.

The duplicate stifled a yawn before waving at Pinkie. “Oh, good to see you up. So sorry about being late! Had a hard time getting up this morning." She winked and nudged Pinkie in the side. "That party last night, am I right?” Pushing past Pinkie, she trotted into the kitchen, immediately getting to work by setting ovens to preheat.

Pinkie just stared, her mouth hanging open. She slowly walked to the doorway to the main area of the first floor and peeked out to see a hint of fuchsia mane still visible through the front door’s small window. There were two? This was much worse than she had thought.

She turned back towards the kitchen. The pony in there had her head in a low cabinet, causing pans to rattle as she searched for some utensil or another. Pinkie was more concerned with a new realization.

The Pinkie Pie copy in the kitchen had ‘54’ printed on her flank instead of a cutie mark.

Why would they copy her and then forget the cutie mark?

More importantly. Did this mean there were fifty-three other Pinkies running around?

Pinkie’s breath caught in her throat. She turned and ran up the stairs, the sound of her beating heart as loud in her ears as her hoofsteps were against the wood.

Back in her room, she rushed to the window to look out across Ponyville.

It was a nice day in Ponyville, the same as a thousand days she had seen before. Skies dotted with puffy clouds, birds singing in the trees, ponies trotting along the streets as they went about their normal morning routines.

Only every single pony she could see had an all-too-familiar pink coat and fuchsia mane.

She closed her eyes, hoping she was dreaming. This... this many Pinkie Pies brought back some dark memories. It had happened once before, but then Twilight had fixed things. Everything was back to normal now. Everything was okay. She didn't need to think about that again because they had taken care of the problem. This must just be an awful dream.

As she opened her eyes again, looking down at two Pinkie Pies engaged in a conversation right across from Sugarcube Corner, she realized that, unfortunately, she was very much awake and not dreaming.

A upside-down face swung into her view from above, filling the small window with a sunny pink smile. “Hiya!” a bright voice chirped, slightly muffled through the glass.

“Ack!” Pinkie shouted, stumbling over her own hooves as she jumped back. Her forehooves flailed out as she tumbled into a disorganized heap on the floor.

“Did you catch your toaster?” the Pinkie on the outside asked. “I just figured we should get going pretty soon, 'cause y’know, otherwise we’ll miss breakfast! Sure, we could just have brunch instead, but then you’re too full for lunch and have to wait until linner. Or is it lupper? I can never remember!”

Pinkie Pie shakily stood again.

Things were definitely not okay.

Pinkie trotted through the city, dutifully following her excitable double, whom she had determined to be marked with a number thirty-three. Thirty-Three kept up a constant stream of one-sided chatter, bouncing from one pointless observation to another. Her conversations seemed to be only tangentially related to any meaningful topic, and as they passed other ponies, she effortlessly mixed in happy greetings to those around her.

Every single one of those other ponies were duplicates of Pinkie. The real Pinkie kept her head down and stared at the ground in front of her, unwilling to meet the eyes of the other impostors, or clones, or whatever they were. First things first: she needed to figure out what was going on here.

Her mind worked furiously, but seemed trapped in pointless circles. A massive changeling invasion? They would have no reason to all copy her though. What about some big magic spell going wrong? Something big enough to turn everypony into Pinkies was a little much, even for Twilight, but maybe instead Pinkie had fallen into some other dimension? Or... she knew the most likely explanation had to have something to do with that cursed pond, but that brought up memories, memories she had no desire to entertain for even a moment, and so her brain pushed relentlessly onwards, back to where she had started. There were enough changelings that she couldn’t rule out the possibility, as little sense as it made. Right?

Thirty-Three abruptly halted, Pinkie barely stopping in time to keep from running into her. Pinkie was quite surprised to find that they had arrived under the spreading branches of the Golden Oaks Library.

She suspiciously peered at the combination of tree, library, and private residence. The red door was familiar, but instead of the familiar image of a candle, there were five small plaques, arranged in a vertical line.

always

judge

a book

by its

cover

Pinkie chewed at her bottom lip. This was where she had intended to go in the first place, but she had a sinking feeling that her friend Twilight would not be waiting inside.

“Here we are!” Thirty-Three chirped cheerfully. “You go on ahead in. Miss Twosy said that she wanted to talk to you alone, and you know how she can be. Tell her I said hi though!” Without even waiting for a response, Thirty-Three had cantered off, her tail swishing as she made a beeline for some other pony to talk to.

Pinkie considered turning around and leaving as well, but she needed answers, and this seemed like the only place to find them. She gathered up her resolve and walked forward, the door swinging open of its own accord as she neared.

She hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward into the uncharacteristic dimness of the library.

With a creak, the door swung shut behind her.

The windows were firmly closed, causing the first floor of the library to be shrouded in a deep gloom. All the windows save one – in the back of the room the rays of the sun shone through a single circular window, the light perfectly framing an oddity in the center of the room.

It was a giant black ball, at least upon first glance, smooth and shiny. It wasn’t until it slowly swiveled around that Pinkie saw its true purpose: a chair.

Sitting in that strange seat, in an unnatural upright posture, was yet another Pinkie Pie. By this point, it was hardly a surprise. Pinkie’s eyes flicked to the flank of the mare, confirming that it was in fact Number Two.

“Number Six!” Two said, “I’m so happy to see you again! It’s been far far too long.”

Pinkie shivered. Two’s voice was... wrong. Pitched slightly too low, laced with just enough self-satisfaction to jump past confidence into an oily arrogance. “That’s not my name,” Pinkie said, her own tone level and firm.

“Oh dear.” Two frowned. “I was really hoping you’d be back to your normal self by now.” Her mouth twitched as disappointment fought with a feigned sympathy, but the sparkling in her eyes made Pinkie suspect the other mare was secretly holding back great amusement.

Pinkie’s mouth opened and shut, trying to process Two’s cryptic statement. “I don’t know who you are and where you’re from, but you better bring my friends back and get out of my town this instant.” To be fair, she probably could have been better served with some degree of politeness, but she was starting to get very fed up with all the mystery and strangeness.

Two grinned in response, the smile strangely crooked. “Your friends? Your town? My, you are confused, aren’tcha? Sit down, sit down!” She gestured to the side, where a plain pillow was sitting alone in the dim light.

It wasn’t like she had much other choice in the matter. Pinkie stiffly walked over to the pillow and sat down, never taking her eyes off Two for a second. As soon as she did so, she realized her mistake, along with the entire point of the setup, the strange chair, the darkness. Sitting on the floor, she was forced to look up and squint through the light that framed Two, the situation deliberately calculated to put her further off guard and at the disadvantage.

“Oh, wherever are my manners? I did invite you for breakfast, yes?” Two clopped her hooves together, and at that sound a door opened. Another Pinkie – number Twenty-Seven – quietly pushed in a serving cart, halting it in front of Pinkie.

The smell was enough of a giveaway, and her mouth started to water involuntarily. Twenty-Seven removed the lid to show the treats: two triple-frosted raspberry cupcakes.

Pinkie’s glance swung from Twenty-Seven’s blank expression to the crooked grin that had only grown wider on Two’s face.

“Oh, and you’d need something to wash that down with. A milkshake? I love milkshakes, myself. Some ponies say that’s strange for breakfast, but between you and me, some ponies don’t know what they’re missing.”

Pinkie gritted her teeth at Two’s oh-so-evident smugness. “Coffee,” she finally said. Twenty-Seven’s mouth opened, about to express an objection, but Two raised a hoof to keep her silent. Twenty-Seven backed away, retreating into the shadows.

Two’s uneven smile didn’t seem to waver. It was sort of creepy – was she was doing that on purpose too or was her jaw was somehow not on quite right? Either way, it was just a distraction.

“I demand to know—”

“Oh, Sixie, I know, you must have a million questions, but enjoy your food first! You must be starving.” Two gestured towards the cupcakes in front of her.

Pinkie swallowed. Everything about this situation seemed calculated to throw her off, but her stomach reminded her she was indeed still very hungry. As much as she wanted to deliberately resist for the sake of being contrary, it would be more of a childish stubbornness than meaningful resistance. She would eat the cupcakes. she just wouldn’t enjoy them.

Nope, not one bit.

She took a bite from the cupcake in front of her, deliberately exuding an aura of nonchalance. As soon as the frosting hit her tongue, it melted away into ridiculously rich raspberry rapture. Then her teeth bit into the soft and fluffy cake texture underneath, perfectly cooked and still warm.

Darn!

Well, she wouldn’t show that she enjoyed them.

The entire meal had been extremely uncomfortable, Two watching in complete silence as Pinkie ate. Slowly and deliberately ate, not wanting to give any more satisfaction than necessary to the strange pony, who was clearly bent on trying to make a point. Pinkie would play along at the silly game until she got some answers. Pinkie liked games, and like her friend Rainbow Dash, she liked to win games.

Once the cupcakes were devoured and Pinkie had sipped at a particularly strong mug of black coffee – at least enough to make her own deliberate point in response – Two had risen from the chair and led the way upstairs. The second floor thankfully had more light, the windows open wide in-between the familiar heavily-laden bookshelves. It looked normal.

At least until Pinkie caught a glimpse of a dictionary shelved next to a Daring Do paperback. Her stomach twisted itself in a sudden lurch. If things had fallen to the point that non-fiction and fiction were sharing shelves, something horrible must have happened to Twilight.

Two trotted out onto one of the library’s balconies, gazing out over the town. Pinkie followed, but hung back from the edge, her still-suspicious eyes focused on Two.

Two kept her crooked smile, nodding at the activity of ponies below before turning to face Pinkie. “So. You have questions.”

Indeed, and all the showy attempts to inconvenience Pinkie had instead given her plenty of time to get her thoughts in order. “Who are you?” she asked, showing no hesitation.

“I am Number Two.”

“Thaaat’s not what I meant,” Pinkie said reproachfully.

Two smirked. “That’s what you asked.”

“Then who is Number One?”

Two stayed silent for a long moment, gazing into Pinkie’s eyes with a twinkle in her own. “You are Number Six.”

“I didn't ask—” Pinkie ground her teeth in momentary frustration. “Wait, no. What? No I'm not.”

“Really, Six?” Two laughed to herself. “You’re smart. Shouldn’t you have figured it out by now? I didn’t want to spoil the surprise!” Two’s eyes shifted, falling upon a different part of Pinkie’s anatomy.

She felt a shiver as she turned to look at her flank. She had not stopped to consider it, but at Two’s words she immediately knew what she would find. For as long as she could remember, there had been three balloons as her cutie mark, always present as a reminder of her true purpose in life. Not any more. Instead, a plain numeral six adorned her flank.

She looked forward again, her own smile gone. The game had suddenly become markedly less fun. “What did you do with my friends? Where’s Twilight, and why are you in her home?”

Two shook her head. “I don’t have a clue as to what you are talking about. I’ve always been here, silly.”

“You weren’t here yesterday,” Pinkie accused.

“Oh, really?” Two waved an arm to indicate the ponies milling about below. “Ask anypony.”

“I don’t need to ask anypony. I know you weren’t here 'cause I was here and you weren’t. Easy.”

“Sixie, dear...” Two reached out to pat Pinkie’s shoulder, but she pulled back at the movement. “You... you have been sick. We have been trying to help. Trying to let you get over these, um, delusions. They’re all made up. In your head. You need to forget about them and accept your place, like everypony else.”

“My place,” Pinkie repeated flatly.

“Yes.” Two gazed out over the panorama of the town. “We all have a role to play, and to deny your purpose is to deny your own happiness. Not to mention the happiness of all your friendly friends.”

The words came fast, even though they were ones Pinkie didn't think she'd ever say. “You're no friend of mine.”

“That hurts, Sixie!” Two’s face fell, her eyes watering. “Recall Forty-Five’s party? How super-duper fun it was? Oh, Thirty-Three said you were talking about it for weeks!”

Pinkie shuddered. “You’re lying. You’re trying to trick me.”

“We want what’s best for you,” Two said, instantly reverting to her smile.

“Horseapples,” Pinkie spat out. “You want me to forget about myself. And my friends!”

“Six, look with me,” Two said, turning to the balcony again.

Pinkie hesitated but stepped forward to look down over the city. Pink ponies were everywhere. There was one with a cart piled high with apples. Applejack’s cart. Another two giggled over some joke on a bench by the side of the path. Bon Bon and Lyra’s bench. Across the way, she could see a pony trotting out of a gaudy round building. Rarity’s boutique. Every pony she saw just brought up more memories of her missing friends.

Two obviously saw something different. “See everypony living in harmony? See how everypony is safe and busy and happy? There’s not a single face in that crowd that—”

Suddenly Two’s expression shifted to a frown. “Stop,” she called out in a surprisingly loud command, the sound reverberating through the square. In an instant, every pony came to a complete halt, freezing in place.

Except one. A pink pony with a downcast expression kept walking, taking several more steps before noticing the stillness around her. She looked up towards the library, and even from a distance, Pinkie could see her preoccupied frown shift to an expression of horror.

Two leaned down over the balcony “Code yellow, everypony!” she called out, her loud voice cheerful and brisk. The scared pony bolted, but as she did, two of the other ponies unfroze and set off in pursuit, quickly catching up and tackling their target.

The misfit pony flailed her legs and screamed as the two hauled her off. Even after they disappeared into an alleyway, Pinkie could hear the sounds of those screams, like knives twisting in her heart.

Two nodded to herself. “Back to normal! Let’s see some smiles!” At that command, all the ponies sprung back into action, their conversations and the normal noise of the town continuing as if no interruption had ever happened.

Pinkie couldn’t hear the screams at all anymore.

“Of course, sometimes things get out of whack. Don’t worry though! We take very good care of those who don’t fit in.” Two turned to smile crookedly at Pinkie once more.

“You...” Pinkie took a deep breath as she felt her blood boil. “I... I refuse to live in a Ponyville like this.”

Two’s eyebrow raised.

Pinkie’s voice grew stronger, gaining volume and fury. “I will not be bullied, or manipulated, or degraded. I don’t care who you are.”

The other eyebrow rose to meet its twin, Two’s smile faltering for a moment. "Really now, Six, there's no need to be melodramatic."

“Don't you dare call me that." One hoof slammed down against the ground. "I am not a number. My name is Pinkamena Diane Pie and I’m not interested in playing your games.”

Pinkie turned and marched into the library. She didn't look back as she stomping down the stairs. She didn't hesitate as she pushed her way through the darkness of the first floor, and stepped out into the street below. She trotted forward into the square in front of the library and only then turned, looking up with defiant eyes for one last stare at Two.

Two stood on the balcony meeting her gaze, waiting until she turned, head high, and trotted away. Two kept watching until that pink tail vanished around a corner of a building.

“That could have gone better,” a voice said from back in the library.

“I thought it went terrifically!” Two said cheerfully, before turning to trot back inside, where another pink mare was waiting.

“Remind me. Why exactly did we let you start?”

Two flashed her cocky lopsided grin. “Because I’m the very best.”

“It would have been easy to have her believing your story. That is, had you not been so antagonistic. And if you skipped the unnecessary show of... whatever that was.” The pony’s voice was level, not accusing but curious.

Two rolled her eyes. “C’mon, you know that’s not good enough. I gave her a much-needed push. The harder she fights now, the more fun it’ll be when she does fall. Otherwise it’d be boooring.”

The other pony didn’t respond, but the small smile creeping across her face was answer enough.

Pinkie hurried through the town, ducking through alleys and side streets as she made her way to her goal: the Ponyville Train Station. A glance at the sun’s position in the sky revealed that she should still be able to catch the midday train to Canterlot.

No matter what had happened to Ponyville, Princess Celestia would be able to fix things. Pinkie just had to get over to Canterlot and find the Princess and this whole crazy nightmare would get worked out in a snap.

It didn’t take her long to get there, but she was a little surprised to find that the station was deserted. Normally, the midday train was one of the busiest, full of businessponies just arriving from Canterlot as well as more casual Ponyville denizens headed out for a leisurely day trip. Not a single pony waited on the platform. Granted, they would all probably have been stupid copies, but no ponies at all was strange.

Pinkie’s eyes flicked over to the chalkboard where arrivals and departures were normally marked. The gridded lines only held a single message.

a pony out of place

is a train off its tracks:

worthless

Undeterred, Pinkie trotted up to the ticket counter. She looked down to see a pink face pressed up against the inside of the glass, both eyes closed but mouth wide open and slightly drooling. Presumably that was the ticket taker, clumsily sprawled out over the counter and in no way doing her job.

Pinkie cleared her throat loudly, but the only sound in response was more soft snores.

She waited for a moment, then shrugged.

With one hoof she smartly rapped against the glass, causing the pony inside to jerk into wakefulness. Wakefulness, in this case, being synonymous with the floor.

Pinkie stifled a snicker, as the ticket taker blearily picked herself up and sat down. “Hello and welcome," the other pony said, still sounding sleepy. "Um. Are you lost?"

Pinkie put on her friendliest smile. “Nope! I was looking for the train station, and then I found it, right where it was the last time I checked. But maybe you could help me, Miss...”

The pony allowed Pinkie to trail off into silence before realizing that she was meant to fill in a blank. “Forty-Eight.”

“Miss Forty-Eight. When’s the next train to Canterlot?”

Forty-Eight’s eyes darted from side to side, as she suddenly seemed more awake. “To... uh, where?”

Pinkie frowned. “Canterlot. Pretty city up in the mountains? Lotsa towers? You can see it from here?”

“Oh.” Forty-Eight waggled a hoof to the right. “You mean the trains that go Thisaway.”

Pinkie raised her hoof as well, her eyes following in that direction. “Yes, because Canterlot is thataway.”

“No, no, no, we have a different train that goes Thataway!” Forty-Eight pointed in the opposite direction, sounding cheerful at successfully navigating the conversation.

“To Dodge Junction?” Pinkie asked.

Forty-Eight’s hoof fell. “Sure?”

“How do you not know—” Pinkie sighed. “It doesn’t matter, back to my question. When does the train to Canterlot arrive?”

Forty-Eight blinked, then raised a wavering hoof, pointing it in various directions as she mentally processed the problem. After sufficient deliberation, she nodded to herself, having reached a satisfactory conclusion. “You juuust missed it. Sorry!”

“What?” Pinkie scrunched up her forehead. Sure, there were no ponies at the station, but wouldn’t some newly arriving ponies still be sorting out their luggage? She suspiciously peered at the ticket taker, then trotted over to the edge of the platform, leaning over to look down the tracks. They went straight for quite a long distance before disappearing over the crest of a hill. They were completely free of train and train-related objects.

Pinkie trotted back to the ticket window, where Forty-Eight was fidgeting. “When will the next train to Canterlot arrive?”

“Oh. You know. Later.” Forty-Eight smiled, one eye twitching slightly. “Thank you for visiting the Ponyville—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Pinkie said. “How much later?”

Forty-Eight winced. “Maybe you should try tomorrow.”

“Well, why don’t I buy a ticket for it now?” Pinkie said, eyes narrowed. Those tickets had the times clearly printed on them. She wouldn’t be able to wriggle out of this one.

Forty-Eight looked over her shoulder at a desk piled high with papers. Her ears drooped pitifully. “But... there’s all this paperwork to fill out and it’s alllll the way over on the other side of the room, and I think I need to find a hole punch or something to punch them, and I haven’t even had my lunch break yet and—”

Pinkie raised a hoof, having heard enough. “You know what? I think you’re lying. I wouldn’t be surprised if there wasn’t even a train coming at all!”

Forty-Eight’s eyes grew large. “Shhh!” Her eyes darted back and forth again. “How did you know?! Look, you can't tell anypony, 'kay? This is the best job I’ve ever had and if anypony finds out there’s no train they’ll make me go back to doing real work again.”

“Fine,” Pinkie said, shaking her head. “But in return, you have to tell me the truth. How long have you been here, and when did the last train come through?”

Forty-Eight made a big deal of thinking hard, tapping her forehead. Ultimately, she just shrugged. “I’ve been here for a really long time and never seen one.” At Pinkie’s skeptical expression, she waved her arms vigorously. “No, really, I’m not just making that up! Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” She began an elaborate series of pantomimed actions.

Pinkie waved one hoof dismissively. “Right, got it. Um. Well, let me know if one happens to show up.” She paused for a moment, about to say something else, but from the looks of it, Forty-Eight was one more tough question away from an anxiety attack. It wasn’t like Pinkie had any idea what to do next, either. Frowning deeply, she glumly turned to head back into town.

Forty-Eight watched as Pinkie left, feeling a little bit sorry for the dejected pony. Even if she did have slightly crazy ideas about trains showing up. Everypony knew that was silly – where would you even go? But more than sorry, she mostly felt tired, and within a few minutes her head slowly dipped down to rest on the table again.

Pinkie trudged through Ponyville, not really paying attention to where she was going, other than to instinctively shy away from the too-familiar high-pitched voices of other Pinkies chattering away.

It was stupid to expect things to be that easy. If Two or One or whoever had put this much effort into replacing everypony, they’d also make sure you couldn’t just take the train to Canterlot. That much should have been obvious. She was still one step behind – if she was lucky. As far as she knew, she could be a whole apple field behind.

Speaking of apple fields, she realized she was face to face with several. Her avoidance of other Pinkies had naturally guided her straight through the city and out to the countryside, and the road in front of her stretched towards Sweet Apple Acres, and from there to the Everfree.

An idea flashed in her head. The Everfree Forest! Everypony knew that things out there were wild and untamed, from the trees to the animals to the weather. Maybe if it was some sort of big magic spell focused on Ponyville that caused all the Pinkie clones, it wouldn’t have penetrated the Everfree. If that was indeed the case... well, it’s not like a bunch of scary timberwolves and manticores would care, but there was one pony out there who might be able to help. Or more correctly, one zebra.

Her spirits rising, Pinkie picked up speed as she trotted down the path, kicking up a cloud of dust behind her. As long as she had a plan, she could keep herself focused and moving, eager to get things back to normal.

Rolling hills dotted with apple trees rose up on either side of her. Off in the distance at the peak of one orchard hill, she could just make out a pony bucking a tree, causing a rain of apples. It made her smile until she looked a little closer at the pony’s color and hairstyle, but even that disappointment served as one further push of encouragement.

She would find Zecora and who knows? Maybe she would have some sort of Pinkie Purging Potion? Er, or even better, a Phony Pinkie Purging Potion. Wait – a Phony-Pinkie Purging Potion, not a Phony Pinkie-Purging Potion. Hyphens were important sometimes. Even if she didn’t have such a remarkably specific concoction, she could probably help get in touch with the Princess, which would be just as good.

Pinkie kept thinking these things to herself as the trees around her got thicker and less apple-y. It helped distract her from the mounting sense of dread sitting at the pit of her stomach.

She had been in the Everfree Forest often enough, and Zecora lived straight down the main trail. So why was she so scared this time? It didn’t help that the path kept getting harder and harder to make out, with a thin mist floating at ground level obscuring the way. The trees loomed above her, with their jagged branches and warped knobby trunks. She could hear strange noises from unidentifiable animals drifting through the woods, including occasional garbled roars from something really big – and hopefully still very far away.

Anypony would be scared of that, right? Sure, she wasn’t just anypony – this shouldn’t faze her, as her Pinkie Sense would probably warn her if she was going to run into any real danger, but—

Pinkie realized that the constant noises of the animals had turned into silence. She stopped, and as the sound of her footsteps died away, everything was wrapped in complete and total silence.

She stood absolutely still, thoughts racing as to what could scare off all the wildlife.

At first, she thought the high-pitched noise was just a ringing in her ears. It kept growing louder, though, and it was joined by a crackling static, like papers being ripped and crumpled.

She wanted to run, but she didn’t know where. What direction was it coming from? She jerked her head, trying to look in every direction at once. Then she saw the bright green approaching through the trees from deeper in the forest, the unsettling sounds amplifying even further as it grew near.

She should have ran, but she couldn’t move a single muscle. She stared at the green thing approaching, unable to catch more than glimpses through the trees. Other than the strange noises, there were no sounds – no heavy hoofsteps, no crashing noises from something large pushing through the undergrowth of the forest.

Then it arrived in front of her, before she even realized it had drawn close.

She stared at the creature.

“Gummy?” she whispered, her voice almost entirely drowned out by the now deafening cacophony of ringing and static.

It was her pet. And as much as Pinkie loved every little detail and quirk of her pet alligator, she suddenly realized that Gummy could be scary as well. Particularly when he was so... big.

He towered over Pinkie, as tall as three ponies standing on top of each other. He didn’t seem to be any more animated than usual, content to stand in silence, eyes not even focused on Pinkie. She watched as one giant eye languidly closed and opened, followed by the other a second later.

Perhaps most unsettling of all was that Pinkie simply had no idea what he was thinking. Normally, she had a connection. She could just tell, and boy, did that silly alligator have some crazy ideas sometimes! But the Gummy in front of her now was a blank slate, an alien entity that she couldn’t read at all.

She swallowed, considering her options. One particularly promising one would be to turn back and just give up with this crazy Everfree thing. That’s certainly what her gut was telling her to do. She knew though that doing so would just be giving up, admitting defeat, letting that nasty Number Two win. Her brain and her heart told her that she had to get to Zecora.

Pinkie felt sorry for her gut, but a vote was a vote, and it was a clear two to one in favor of stubbornly pushing onwards.

She took one exceedingly slow step forward, keeping an eye on Gummy. He didn’t move, but he didn’t back up either, and she wouldn’t be able to go much further forward with his bulk blocking the way.

Okay then, one to the side, slowly.

As soon as her foot touched the ground, Gummy moved surprisingly quickly and quietly to the side, staying directly in front of Pinkie.

She took a deep breath. This was probably a very bad idea. But she had made her decision.

She tensed her muscles.

And then Pinkie sprung into action, flinging herself left instead of right, dashing forward between two trees to weave around Gummy and get past so she could—

She felt an impossibly huge mouth close on her from behind. At least he didn’t have teeth. The thought flickered in her head right before feeling every muscle in her body spasm in an explosion of unnatural pain. Everything faded to white.

Pinkie groaned as she woke up. The blanket in her bed had been kicked off onto the floor during the night. Every part of her body felt sore, like she had just finished a whole Running of the Leaves five times over. The immediate pain ripped her mind off the unsettling dream she had the night before, bringing her back to reality in an instant, but she had the feeling that was probably a good thing. Something about... clones? She didn’t even want to dwell on it.

Pinkie tumbled out of bed, wincing as her legs complained profusely at the indignity of needing to support her weight. Her mouth was so dry that she couldn’t feel her tongue. Water. She had to get some water.

She trotted to the bathroom, her bones creaking with each step. Guh. With experience borne from many rough post-party mornings, she reached to switch on the faucet and out poured cool sweet water. She tilted her head and took a long drink, until it felt like her stomach would pop.

Sighing contentedly, Pinkie looked up, noticing something for the first time.

Her mirror was gone. Vanished, stolen, spirited away – the darned thing just wasn’t there, leaving a big empty spot in her bathroom. Instead of seeing her lovely pink visage, she was face to face with an unpainted grey square of wall, with an unsightly crack running right down the middle.

She reached out with one hoof to touch the blank wall as the memories came spilling back.

She was still here, stuck in this weird Pinkie-populated Ponyville, with no friends, and no plan to escape.

She was a prisoner.