The Visitor

Chapter One: When You Wish Upon a Star...

I didn't know why, but a feeling of moderate nirvana had been with me all day, like the power to change the world rested squarely in my hooves.

Of course, I wasn't complaining about feeling happy: Celestia knew I needed a pick-me-up this time of year, what with my best friend and roommate, Bon-Bon, on her yearly vacation to the Sunset Isles. Every year the date snuck up on me, and every year I was unprepared to be alone, for the most part, for nearly an entire month.

Bon-Bon had left nearly a week ago, and I had felt a pervasive and melancholy sadness in her absence, which was why I found it strange to feel as cheerful as I did on this particular evening.

I muttered to myself about the fickleness of pony nature as I looked up to the stars, chin resting on my crossed forehooves that in turn rested on the windowsill. Everything seemed so simple and organized up there, away from the controlled chaos that was everyday life. A particularly bright star shined brilliantly, and it reminded me how when the sun hit a certain angle on the water over in the Sunset Isles, it seemed as if the entire ocean was ablaze with colour, looking like a moving, breathing font of precious gems.

Bon-Bon had brought me a picture of it as a souvenir from her last trip. Last I checked, it was still collecting dust in one of my drawers.

Sighing, I glanced over at my most treasured possession: my lyre. My namesake.

I grabbed it telekinetically, and gently cradled it in my hooves as I sat beneath the open window, looking up into the stars. With a motion as practiced as walking, I began to strum the strings with my hoof tips, letting an ambient flow of sound pervade the serenity of the night.

At least, that's what my neighbour, Berry Punch, thought of my music. Tonight though, she kept her opinions to herself, as she was probably passed out with only an empty wine bottle for company.

As I played the light melody on autopilot, the star seemed to grow brighter. My father once told me that if I wished upon the brightest star of the night sky, my wish would come true. When I was a little filly, I giggled and did so, not ever truly believing my father. He was full of strange stories, after all.

Looking at the shining and seemingly ever-brightening star however, I could understand how the story might have been perceived as true. A star like that was a beacon of hope and wonder; something that made you think that anything could happen, if you believed hard enough.

I smiled and whispered the poem, adding my voice to my lyre's.

"When you wish upon the night's brightest star;

"Whether it's yellow or white, near or far;

"Close your little eyes; make sure not to peek!

"Choose the perfect wish; make sure not to speak!

"Hold your wish in your heart, not in your mind;

"Now your wish has come true, you'll surely find!"

I sighed. Dad always came up with the most creative ways to put me to bed. My good mood was somewhat dampened by memories of my father. Not because of him, mind, but because of a lack of him: I hadn't seen him in years, not since mother died. Being a bard with wanderlust, a traveling storyteller, meant that I saw him infrequently enough, but when mom passed away, the infrequency faded away and I hadn't seen him since. I never saw him cry before that day, either.

Mind heavy, I looked back up into the sky for guidance. As my lone song filled the air, the lonesome star smiled down, and to me, it seemed to outshine even the moon's light and beauty.

I grinned and closed my eyes, feeling a giddy sense of anticipation. Under the lodestar, the traveler's compass, I made my wish. I felt that if anything truly so magical could occur, it would be on this night.

I opened my eyes.

Up in the sky, something was blotting out the lodestar, as it no longer shined. I squinted and stared, but I couldn't figure out what blocked my view. With a disappointed sigh, I strummed the chords one final time before placing my lyre back where it belonged. Yawning, I trotted over to my bed. As I laid beneath the covers, staring at the ceiling, I couldn't help but wonder what I was expecting.

Sure, all stories had a grain of truth to them, but they were called stories for a reason.

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I woke up airborne.

It was the strangest sensation of weightlessness, and while I blinked away sleep, the thought that this was part of a particularly abstract dream wouldn't go away. When gravity kicked in and I fell into the plush covers, however, I knew it was no dream.

There was a massive rumbling outside. It sounded like the earth itself was going to split, and by the vibrations that were shaking the furniture and myself, it seemed like it was happening right below my house. In a moment of panic, I telekinetically grabbed my lyre before a decorative vase could fall on it. Holding it tight, I forced myself to calm down and remember the proper course of action to take during an earthquake, which was to find some sort of cover.

Naturally, I crawled underneath my bed.

It wasn't as dusty as I had feared, but it was a bit cramped, and I could feel the continuous rumbling even greater than before. Considering I was practically hugging the floor, that didn't come as much of a surprise to me.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of me, so I bent my head low to the ground in an attempt to get at least some sort of view of the outside world. I realized that if tilted my head just so, avoiding puncturing the underside with my horn, I could see out of my bedroom's window rather clearly.

I watched with horrid fascination as the golden orange of dawn was choked out by a massive cloud of grey-brown dust. I immediately regretted leaving my window open to the pleasant summer air. The dust came in waves and billows, coating everything in a fine layer of particles that just kept coming. Nothing was spared. All I could do was cower beneath my bed, hope that the dust would stop, and pray that I didn't need to sneeze.

When the rumbling finally stopped, and sunlight started filtering through the dust cloud, I extricated myself from beneath my bed, blinking away the tears that started to form from whatever particles still remained airborne. There was a thick layer of dust on everything, with the floor getting the worst of it; wherever I stepped, it felt like I was walking on freshly fallen snow.

I shook whatever dust I could off of myself, then flicked my tail in annoyance when I realized that my lyre was absolutely coated in the stuff. Cleaning it while it was still relatively untouched by grime was a royal pain in the flank, but this...

Grumbling inwardly, I pushed that thought aside for the moment: There were bigger problems ahoof. Forcing my dry throat to swallow, I opened the door and stepped outside, intent on finding out just what the hay had happened.

Apparently, the entire town of Ponyville had the same idea as me. Crying foals clung to frazzled mothers, the wide-eyed patrons of Sugarcube Corner looked like they missed their morning cup of coffee, and even the Mayor was out in the street, hoof-deep in the dust, looking like she wanted somepony to blame but came up short. Everypony looked a shade or two browner than they normally did.

After a gentlecolt—I think his name was Thunderlane—informed me that something huge, oh and did he put emphasis on huge, happened to fall on part of the Everfree Forest, I thanked him and decided to follow the throng of already-moving ponies. Everypony seemed to share my intensive curiosity. Normally, I wasn't one to follow the crowd, but in this situation, I didn't have much of a choice.

While the dust had somewhat settled, there was still enough of it in the air to reduce visibility to barely a quarter of what it would've been on any other morning. Everything had a surrealistic haze to it, and distances were difficult to judge.

I walked for maybe an hour, lost in the rhythm of mechanically plodding along while refraining from bumping into the elderly mare in front of me. Ponyville wasn't a large town, but even so, it took the better part of an hour and a half to walk from my house to the Everfree Forest. Fortunately, time had taken up a merciful role, and the minutes disappeared faster than they normally would've on an average morning.

I was surprised when the mare in front of me stopped, and I nearly fell in my desperate attempt to halt myself. I hadn't realized how much of a slippery surface dust was until I was forced to walk on it.

I stood up straight and tried to peer over the crowd that had already gathered, with more and more ponies trickling in every minute. Through sections of dust that the wind chose to clear, I saw the odd gleaming section of grey amidst the endless brown. Gasps rolled through the crowd like a plague when they saw what I had seen, quickly followed by murmurs debating what exactly they had seen. I chose not to partake in the conversation, instead discussing it with myself, internally.

Listening in to other people's discourse that I was not invited to join was not something I chose to do, but when I heard somepony mutter, "Aliens," I couldn't help but overhear. My mind went a-reeling with the possibility that visitors from the Vast Beyond had chosen to come here, to Equestria.

Everypony was interrupted when a massive wave of sound erupted from somewhere in the distance before fading away, like a timberwolf's howl echoing away into nothingness. With a gust of wind that betrayed its strength with false tranquility, the dust was blown away. I had to close my eyes from the force. When I cracked an eye open, I felt my jaw drop.

Standing there in placid silence following the outburst was a massive construct, made entirely of grey metal that shined above the dirt line and glared beneath it. Great piles of dirt and uprooted foliage engulfed the sides, and behind it, an enormous furrow cutting straight through the forest showed just how far the gigantic metal object had traveled. Trees and anything unfortunate enough to be in its way were brushed aside like blades of grass; many of them were scorched black, and a few were still burning.

The construct itself was simple enough looking: the basic design was a rectangle with two smaller rectangles protruding from the sides. At least, I assumed it protruded from both sides: I couldn't actually see the other side, as it was facing the Everfree, but given the symmetry of the edifice, I predicted that it was the same.

A large, propeller-like thing housed inside a metal cylinder, which was in turn connected to one of the smaller rectangles jutting out from the side, seemed to be the object that created the artificial wind. The propeller itself, which looked small from my position on the hillside, but was most certainly gigantic up close, was still spinning, albeit slowing down.

When I started walking forward, drawn by the sheer size of it and my desire to get a closer look, the crowd followed in my hoofsteps. I was too immersed, too hypnotised by the beauty and surprising simplicity of the great structure to care. With the dust blown away, the summer sun began to beat down upon me, but I was not dissuaded from my goal.

The massive propeller started up again, and it knocked me over from the force. Shaking it off, I picked myself up and kept going. The old idiom of 'curiosity killed the cat' rang in my ears.

I only stopped when I saw what appeared to be an entrance: a different-looking metal sheet that looked capable of movement, and a similar metal ramp leading up to it. Whatever being had built the construct certainly enjoyed metal, and for that matter, the colour grey. I had no doubts that, if they truly came from the Vast Beyond, they could colour their structures whichever colour they so chose.

I was mildly concerned by the pieces of debris that had fallen from the construct—they looked important, but whatever technology was used to move an object the size of a small mountain range was beyond me, and I had no idea what important parts actually were.

By that time, I was close enough to feel the radiating heat, only amplified by the searing sun. I could also hear a constant humming that, upon closer inspection, was coming from the construct.

I looked in frozen awe as the entrance shook and rang out with the clang of metal on metal. I felt a giddy sense of pent-up excitement within my chest, the very same that I felt when I looked upon the lodestar.

This time, however, I knew that the impossible was plausible, as it was happening right in front of me. The crowd was as silent as I; everypony seemed to be communally holding their breath.

Another crash; this time, the metal sheet seemed to bend a little bit outward, almost as if something was knocking it down from the inside. I started to feel a bit uneasy.

After the third crash, the massive metal sheet collapsed with a tremendous cacophony of screeching, screaming noise. The impact jarred the earth, and from the wreckage, a lone figure stood triumphant at the apex of the ramp. A more flamboyant announcement couldn't have been conceived.

I looked with equal amounts of fear, anxiousness, and excitement: this was it, the moment that would define my life—and everypony else's—for years, possibly decades to come! The Visitors had come, and they had chosen ponykind to make first contact with.

Then it stepped into the light. The shadows that surrounded it were washed away by the sun's glare, and a tall being of metal and other, unknown materials stood alone, looking down at us. Two ominous-looking objects pointed out in front of it.

I loathed to admit it, but I was terrified.

Even dwarfed by the gaping hole that acted like a vacuum, stealing away all light that entered, the Visitor was huge. Although my perspective may have been warped, I guessed that it was at least two, maybe three times taller than the average pony, and much wider as well. Strangely, it seemed to only have two legs, which I thought would make balance difficult, but it seemed to manage well enough even though it didn't have a tail. I noticed that it had arms as well, big bulky ones that connected to the torso, almost on level with the head.

Hay, I didn't even know if it had a head, but since the roughly spherical object between its shoulders looked like a head, I decided to call it thusly.

From what I could see that wasn't blocked by the two objects that may or may not have been its hooves—or hands, rather, considering it was bipedal—the torso was big and bulky, inflated to an almost comical proportion. What was not comical was how immobile it was—all that moved was its 'head.'

It turned its head, slowly, and I gulped nervously when I felt its gaze pass over me. Whatever emotions the being felt were a mystery to me—its face was as blank as a polished mirror, and it reflected the light just as well.

Nopony moved, and the being stood there, as if waiting for something.

When the tenseness became a palpable thing, and it seemed that nopony else would step up, I breathed deep and stepped forward, cutting myself off from the power of the group behind me and making the butterflies in my stomach begin an aerobatics display.

I heard several whispers of encouragement as I slowly distanced myself from everypony. I knew they meant well, but the saccharine-coated support made me feel like a sacrificial lamb. If ever there was a time and place to feel as separate as a magic-less unicorn, a pegasus without flight, or an earth pony with no strength without actually being any of those things, then I felt that feeling as I walked around smouldering pieces of scorched metal and onto the ramp where the Visitor awaited.

The ramp itself was surprisingly hot as well, and I had to resist whimpering out loud when the sensitive portion of my hooves made contact. I blinked away tears and kept going, pretending that it was just like climbing into a piping hot bath. I kept my motions as smooth and slow as possible: I didn't know the proper conduct in a situation like this—nopony did—but it seemed like the right thing to do.

The Visitor had focused on me ever since I broke off from the crowd, although it occasionally glanced around at the ponies behind before resuming its attentiveness on myself. One of the objects that may have been its hands tracked my movement constantly. If they were the Visitor's equivalent of hands, then I didn't know what it could possibly accomplish with them: from what I could tell, they didn't seem to do anything. The small cylinder with a hole at the top made me wary, but I didn't know why.

When I dared not venture any closer, I stopped and waited, eyes flitting around the Visitor's form. I didn't want to cause offense by staring for too long in one place, but if it cared, it didn't show.

I glanced behind me, and saw a hundred pairs of frightful eyes and artificial smiles. Turning back, I watched with surprise as it lowered its arms. I took that as a signal to speak.

"H-Hello, Visitor. The land you've, erm, landed in is called Equestria, and we, ponykind, are its inhabitants."

My voice was barely more than a whisper. I licked my lips and tried to think of what else to say. It was surprisingly difficult.

"W-We would like to extend the hoof of friendship towards you and your kind, and..."

I trailed off, suddenly very aware that what I was saying was monumental, and would probably be recorded in history books to be taught to foals everywhere about the first words exchanged between a pony and a traveler of the stars. I breathed deep, forced myself to calm down, and above all, thought.

For Celestia's sake, I was a bard, a recorder of history through music and stories—nopony else was more qualified than me to usher in a new age, and I'd better start acting like it!

"Greetings, traveler of the stars!" I announced clearly, slipping into my storyteller's voice that my father had spent so much time getting me to practice until I got it just right.

"As the representative of ponykind, the keepers of this land, I hereby welcome you and other Visitors with open forelegs and wish to extend the hoof of friendship so that our two races may be friends and allies!

"Welcome to Equestria! We hope you enjoy your stay!"

Short, sweet, and to-the-point: almost the complete opposite of what my job normally entailed.

I made to extend the hoof of friendship literally, but from the expressionless Visitor before me, I decided against it. The being barely acknowledged my presence, let alone my soliloquy, and I felt the energy drain out of me from being so pointedly ignored.

Cowed, I bent my head as a show of respect and slowly retraced my steps back down the ramp that was only now of a bearable temperature.

To my surprise, and to the surprise of everypony present—they gasped almost perfectly in unison—the Visitor followed me down. I gulped down my anxiety and continued stepping backwards at the same pace as before, my heart a-flutter.

When I felt my hoof touch the bare ground, the Visitor stopped near the base of the ramp and slowly panned around, walking in a broad circle, as if looking at the surroundings. After seemingly making a decision, it turned around, walked back up the ramp, and disappeared into the shadows of the construct.

I felt strangely cheated—that was, until the Visitor reappeared with one of the objects missing from its arms. I spied that it did indeed have hands, big, bulky ones that gripped sections in spots tailor-made for dextrous digits. I wondered at the purpose of the objects, but I didn't have to wonder for long.

Loud, popping noises that was akin to exaggerated sounds of popcorn being made spewed forth from the device, and intermittent flashes of light strobed consistently from the cylindrical hole at the end. The Visitor seemed entranced by his work, walking steadily along the edge of the ramp as the strange object in its hands breathed light and sound.

Then, as suddenly as it begun, the sound stopped. The Visitor stepped back into the shadows before reappearing soon after, and continued from where he left off. I winced and closed my eyes.

Just when I thought my poor ears could take no more abuse, a loud bang followed by a metallic groan emanated from the ramp of the hangar, making me seriously regret not bringing some form of ear protection. I forced my eyes open. Squealing, the ramp slowly broke away from the gaping maw that the Visitor stood in and crashed to the earth, which it smashed into, bounced once, then settled. A new, smaller cloud of dust had arisen.

The Visitor stared outwards, and then walked back into the darkness.

The crowd exploded into a frenzied debate in regards to what exactly it meant by that. I heard declarations that ranged wildly.

"We failed some sort of test, we did, like a buncha foals, but instead of a teacher forcin' us into detention, that—that thing's gonna zap us with somethin' and we're—!"

"Don't be ridiculous! All it did was cut away part of its... metal-thing. That doesn't mean it's going to do anything to us!"

"But what does it mean?! Are we denied entry to the stars, to the Vast Beyond? And if we are—is our banishment forever, or just temporary?"

I stole away from the mass of angry, fearful, and confused ponies as quickly as I could, intent on finding some cool, secluded place to collect my thoughts and not turn into somepony who was a hair's breadth away from becoming a rioter.

Home was my first thought, but with the layers of dust that seemed to permeate every inch of every surface everywhere, and the fact that my house was a solid hour's trot away meant it was probably not the best place to be at the moment.

As I trotted along a trail in the dust worn away by hundreds of hooves, I spotted a hill with a shady looking tree. Given what little time I had before ponies started asking me questions, I veered off the path and climbed the hill: It was a better spot than I expected, given the circumstances.

Panting from heat and genuine tiredness, I collapsed underneath the shade of a sturdy old oak tree. The shade did wonders to alleviate the borderline heatstroke I was suffering from, and before long, I felt ready to start pondering the massive ramifications that had undoubtedly occurred. I decided to start from the beginning.

First of all, a Visitor had landed here, in Ponyville, taking a chunk of the Everfree Forest along with it and raising a dust cloud that would be a royal pain in the flank to clean up after.

Second, the Visitor did not come to wipe ponies off of Equestria: I had no doubt that if it wanted to, it could, but instead it had chosen not to. Whether that was because of how we reacted, what I said, or from something completely different that we could only begin to understand remained to be seen.

Third, the Visitor didn't seem particularly interested in talking or giving any sort of sign that it understood or even wanted to understand Equish. Maybe it thought our language was inferior, or maybe it didn't even have a language: Hay, for all I knew, it communicated by thought, and our fear and wariness drove it away.

Fourth, the severing of the ramp was clearly meant to be a demonstration of sorts. I personally hoped that it meant that we, ponykind, weren't ready—yet. If we were a lost cause for whatever cause the Visitor came here for, then it would've simply returned to the stars, leaving us behind.

Fifth, and finally, my speech would definitely be taken into account for the Visitor's actions.

I sat up, the sweat having dried off—but the damage was already done: From a combination of the sweat and dust, mats of fur dotted my body, and they would be yet another thing I'd have to clean. My mane was surprisingly knot-free, but still dusty. I foresaw a large boom in business for Aloe and Lotus over at the spa, if half of the ponies were as dust-ridden and matted as I.

My ear flickered to the left, and my eyes followed it. I could see a contingent of ponies, headed by none other than the Mayor, and they were walking directly towards me. I sighed.

It was going to be a long day.