READ IN MEDIUM DARK COLOUR FOR BEST RESULT!

The dawn was never awake before Pinkie Pie was. She was always up at the crack, at the very moment the sun hit the horizon and blessed the grounds of Ponyville with its light and warmth.

You would find it funny to think of a pony like Pinkie Pie as being this adherent to a scrupulous sleeping schedule, but she took many things very seriously – even in the subject of fun. There was a science behind it, after all. Making others laugh, telling jokes, and the art of belligerent comedy: all tools in this great plan of hers to make the world a nicer, better place.

All this stemmed from where she came from, starting with humble beginnings and continuing into a humble life. Filling the hearts of others with her own special brand of amusement – there wasn't anything more fulfilling than that, and she'd never argue otherwise.

This morning, she hopped out of her cosy, pink bed – the one frilled with lace and that awful party pattern – and trundled down the stairs to Sugarcube Corner's main floor.

Her simple wave of ‘hello’ to the bakery's other residents was very well received indeed, and just that one humble gesture did grant them an entirely different perspective on the day ahead.

It was a 'science' – a special kind of science that only Pinkie Pie herself understood and for that matter, knew about. But it was a science nevertheless.

Pinkie Pie had every morning's ritual all worked out in advance, for it was her opinion that every day was the same day as before. All that changed were the minor nuances that made each individual day slightly unique, but everything else within the rise and fall of the sun was more or less the same in form and function.

There was the ‘Daily Greeting’: a 'how-do-you-do' to the ponies she passed by on the way from her house to one of her friends'.

There was the ‘Stop-and-Cheer-Up’: a periodic and contextual activity, that consisted of her taking time out of her day to aid a fellow pony in an arbitrary task which would show them that somepony else cared enough about them to actually bother.

There was the ‘Random Song’, which was exactly what was written on the tin.

Today, one of the minor nuances that changed in her day-to-day was ‘destination’.

Yesterday was Fluttershy.

Tomorrow was Applejack.

Naturally, due to the slight change in the temperature thanks to an early morning breeze and the relative humidity that hung about in the air, today’s visitation choice would have to be Twilight Sparkle.

It was a pity that nopony else was able to figure it out like her. It was so obvious, after all. At least, it was woefully obvious to Pinkie, who simply had what it took to make the right call for maximum fun efficiency.

And her bouncing took her right through the front door of Twilight Sparkle's library.

"Good morning, Twilight!" she expressed wholeheartedly, genuinely meaning what she had said.

"Hi, Pinkie." Twilight returned the greeting. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, nothing!" The bubbly pink giggle-monster laughed. "Just dropping in to say hi! So, hi!"

"Well, hi, then." Twilight smiled. Sure, it was annoying. She'd be lying if she said that Pinkie's antics weren't just the tiniest bit off-putting this early in the morning, but she'd also be lying if she said that they weren’t appreciated nonetheless. "Oh, I was just about to go out and get breakfast. Spike's sleeping in again today. Would you like to come along?"

"Oh, I'd love to, Twilight. I'd super-duper fantastic love to, but I can't. I've got eight more ponies to visit today, and then I have to be back at the Corner to take care of the Cakes' little terrible twosomes! They can be a hoof-ful, you know! Lucky I have six!"

Twilight nodded, ignoring that last bit. Pinkie tended to say curious things sometimes, and if you thought too much about it, you’d usually end up getting slightly anxious for some reason. Either way, it seemed that Pinkie had her order-of-business all set out.

"Alright, Pinkie. In that case I'll see you later, alright? Thanks for stopping by!"

"No problem, Twilight!" She nodded, bouncing out the same way that she came in.

And that was a day in the life of Pinkie.

In the end, between her assistance at the bakery and all of her personal errands, she kept mighty busy indeed, and that was usually enough to satisfy her – she never desired more. Besides, once in a while an odd adventure with the gang popped up, and that was more than adequate to satisfy her need for drama, which wasn't a burning passion anyway.

She really did have her life sorted out, and as she put herself to bed at the end of yet another fun-filled fifteen hours, she knew, without a moment's doubt, that the next day (Applejack's turn!) would be just as glorious and enriching as its predecessor.

And the night drove silently on, the crickets singing an a cappella dirge.

The bed felt softer than she had ever remembered it being.

This was something that was rarely a complaint, but Pinkie wasn't really complaining. It was more of a remark to herself while she lay in bed between the moments of wakefulness and sleep; that time when your mind struggles to decide if staying in bed would be a better course of action than leaving those fine, soft threads.

They were cool, Pinkie noted, as she rolled over under her blanket. And smooth, too.

Her brain decided to flick into one side of the argument thanks to a nagging thought, and brought her, wide-eyed and fully conscious, into the room. At first it ceased all irrelevant function, focusing for just enough time to process enough information to make an educated guess as to what was going on. Feedback from her environment, in addition to what she knew as possible, combined and coalesced in a large mixing pot of ideas and explanations, spitting them out one by one, each more ridiculous than the last, just to answer one question –

Where am I?

It wasn't her room. This wasn't her bed – its higher degree of comfort was due to the sheets being made of pure silk, dyed jet-black. Her blanket, devoid of its regular printed pattern of streamers and confetti, was a fine weave so light and airy that she could barely feel it draped over her chest, as she rested on the double-king-sized custom mattress that had at minimum three different layers.

It was so soft that Pinkie felt that it was trying to swallow her up in its plush comfort. And as she sank deeper into the cushiony abyss, she caught sight of the hardwood headboard behind her which was adorned with carvings of Pegasi and fountains and other park-related scenes.

It was a magnificent relief. Giving it a closer look, her mouth hanging open slightly, she could see tiny engravings of ponies prancing around a field with tables and food and parfait and... it was a party.

The room she found herself in was also, as it were, unabashedly decorated with a similar luxury. Pinkie Pie had never even dreamed of stepping into a room like this, let alone finding herself waking up in one. This room seemed to have the bearings of an opulent suite in a top-class Canterlot hotel, but there were those tiny personal touches that made it a just a bit more than that.

Maybe it was the way the curtains were striped with a muted shade of pink, or maybe how the carpet had a huge spiral swirl on it, like one of those hard lollipops she loved so much. Or maybe it was how, nestled privately amongst the glass beads of the gold-encrusted chandelier, was a small, half-deflated balloon.

It was the first time that Pinkie Pie didn’t leap out of bed, nor make an awful ruckus rolling out, nor engage herself in morning soliloquy whilst she flew from mattress to floor. The bed was large enough that she had to swim through a sea of feathery softness and rippling sheets, and struggle her way to the edge where she could lower herself down gently.

Alright, Pinkie.

Don't you... don't you fret now.

You've got a clear handle on the situation.

This is just a joke, isn't it? They probably moved you while you were asleep last night, and brought you here to this... wherever this is. Twilight knows quite a few spells. She must have something in those books of hers that can prevent a pony from waking for a while....

Yeah, it's just some... some bad joke, that's all. You'll just tell them it's not funny, and...

And...

And that was when she noticed that the room wasn't the only thing that wasn't hers.

In the normal course of thought, one doesn't usually pay too much attention to the words one says to oneself. That much is true because, well, it's your voice. You hear it clearly, and you know it to be yours. You don't question it.

So why then, Pinkie thought, am I suddenly thinking in this structured manner?

Not only that, but so lucid too! Sentences were mentally strung together without spiralling off into the jaunty undertones of ‘whee’ and ‘whoopie’ and other fun-related interjections, and not once since she woke had she thought about bouncing.

She tried.

She tried springing up and down on her legs as they bent slowly, but there was no give to them. There was no energy. This wasn't bouncing; this was simply jumping on the spot, something that adults did without finesse or vigour.

But she was herself, wasn't she? How could she be anypony else? She went to sleep, and woke up… and then what happened?

Off to the side in a small alcove behind an embroidered folding screen was a large, wall-mounted mirror. A make-up counter lay underneath it, but it was nowhere as long or impressive as the mirror itself. An ornate frame encircled the oval reflective portal, and bottles and cases of all kinds littered the desk haphazardly.

Pinkie rushed to the mirror, trotting with poise – another thing that upset her – and peered into it with the vain hope that it would bring some answers.

She didn't know what she wanted to see.

But what she saw was her face. It was Pinkie Pie, staring back at her, with the waterfall-straight mane coming down the side in a three-quarters parting, not a single strand even daring to twist out of line. And as much as she stared – in fact, the more she stared – the less she felt that she could identify what was out of place.

It was not the fact that her mane was different, or that her thoughts – the one foundation of the self – had changed. She was consciously aware of the differences. But somehow, the mirror painted a picture, with a frame and a setting and Pinkie herself as the subject. The longer she stood there, gazing at the picture on the wall, the more she felt that everything looked like a natural setting.

As much as she hated to believe it, it seemed like this was where she belonged.

She turned slightly, eyes darting feverishly over her entire body to scour for any other changes, and there was but one. It was a small difference, but carried a weight much heavier than its dimension.

For where there were once three balloons, there were now three dull, dead rocks.

"U... uh..." she muttered abruptly, holding a hoof to her furrowed brow. There was just so much to take in, and so little she could do about it. Her mind had long since burnt out attempting to answer the hundreds of questions she had, and had now rested on the prospect that she was still asleep and that this was an incredibly vivid dream. It was possibly Twilight's doing. She always had something to do with everything.

Her first instinct was to leap back into bed and fall asleep again, for she had heard somewhere that going to sleep while in a dream wakes you up in real life. She couldn’t remember where she'd heard it, but it seemed like it shouldn't hurt to try. At the very least, she might lose a few hours of a day that was probably going to go to waste anyway.

She took a deep breath and tore herself away from the mirror, her reflection playing no tricks as it followed her every single move. But upon reaching the edge of her bed, a loud knock resounded from the dual floor-to-ceiling oak doors that guarded the way in.

She froze.

But sense took over as another knock echoed through her spacious room, and she called out in a very angst-ridden voice for whomever it was to come in.

The huge wooden faces swung aside, parting for a familiar old grey mare, graced with half-moon spectacles on golden chains. Blue eyes, filled deep with a sense of care and love, peered out from behind them as their owner smiled gently at Pinkie. Her grey-blue mane, tied up in a bun, also bore the same fastidiousness and rigidity that Pinkie's had.

It happened the very moment Pinkie laid eyes on her. A sudden wash of nostalgia and guilt enveloped her heart as she was greeted by a pony she hadn't seen for a very long time.

"M... mom?" stammered Pinkie.

"Oh, you're awake, Diane," Pinkie's mother replied, a hint of relief in her voice. "Very good. How... how was last night?"

"Last night? Wha… what?"

The sudden look of dejection on her mother's face was enough to shut her up in her stride.

"Oh, Diane." The tired grey mare trailed off, as if this weren't the first time they’d had this sort of exchange. "I... I understand. Please, make yourself presentable. Your father would like to see you in his study. I will check up on you later, when your head clears."

And just like that she left, unable to stay in the room any longer, not even giving Pinkie enough time to respond. Although, it wasn't as if Pinkie would have known what to say anyway. Her head was saturated by fog, and she just didn’t recognize most of what her mother mentioned. So overwhelmed was Pinkie over the sight of a rarely-seen loved one again that she was simply left flabbergasted, standing meekly on the carpet of her room.

Once again, nervously, she started to tap her front hooves together, as if clapping for an invisible show. Was this something she used to do? She couldn't remember. All she knew now was that she had to find out more about where she was, and what she was doing here, and maybe... maybe there was one pony who could tell her more.

It was definitely her father's study.

It was more of an office, really, standing sentinel at the very top of this building that she had concluded was her house. A spiral staircase led up to it, and the study simply exited onto the floor itself. There weren’t any doors for this room, no – it had a landing.

Pinkie crept along the side of the stairs, edging upward slowly, step by step. Like a parting curtain, the study was revealed to her as her line of sight passed over the threshold of the floor while she rose up gradually.

Her father, in all his glory, stood at the far end of the round room, peering out the windows that lay hidden behind the red velvet curtains that covered the entire far half of the room.

Unlike Pinkie's mother, though, her father seemed to have this additional energy about him – something that Pinkie had never felt from him before. But the greying, streaked mane and those thick, handsome sideburns made it certain that there was no mistaking him for anypony else.

He was wearing a black suit and tie, something that, even for the upper-crust, was considered quite up amongst the elite.

The room itself was full of charts and boards and papers and other important-looking things, their purpose lost on Pinkie. There was a cabinet – the only object in the room not to have any sort of graph stuck on it – filled with trophies and awards of all kinds that stood next to a few old, worn-down books. On the shelf at Mr. Pie's eye-level stood framed photographs of the family – Pinkie recognized every member, including herself. For some reason, though, her picture was the only one in a separate frame, both photo and subject standing apart from the rest of her family.

The giant mahogany desk that stood in front of her father was the kind with the green felt on top – the kind of table that was so fancy that you couldn't write on it without an extra piece of hard board, on top of the green felt, that was on top of what was already a perfectly acceptable writing surface. It was just pointlessly over-elaborate.

All in all, the room pulsed with the sort of corporate lavishness that was only saved for the very best of the best.

Without turning to face his daughter, the unchallenged head of the house drew in an intentionally long breath and spoke in a lulled, authoritative tone.

"Diane. Your mother tells me ya came back late again last night."

His voice, too, was different. Pinkie's father, as she had known him, had always been rather stern in his expression, but it now took on an extra unwavering edge of rigidness.

"Dad...?" asked Pinkie, just to clear the sneaking doubt in her mind.

"Don'tcha 'dad' me," he barked suddenly, swinging around and giving Pinkie a fierce glare that could no longer be held in. "Your mother and I were worried sick! Sick, I tell ya!"

"Dad, I didn't do anything last night," was the only thing she could think of that was ambiguous enough and safe enough to say.

"Oh yeah? Where were ya, then?"

"I... I don't remember," presented Pinkie, her contest failing.

"You don't remember." The stallion shook his head incredulously.

"Dad? What is this place?" Pinkie blurted out without thinking.

"What... what is... oh for...!" He smacked himself in the forehead. "You're on Joke again, ain't ya? I'm telling you, Diane Pinkamena Pie, one of these days it's gonna kill ya dead!"

"No! No! I'm not on Joke." Whatever that is. "I... I said it wrong. Okay. Dad? Um..."

Her mind raced. Something. Anything to say. Something to help. Oh for goodness' sake, why was it so difficult going into a conversation blind? She never had problems doing it before!

"Diane, what is going on with you? You know we just wanna steer you straight, girl! Why d’ya always have to turn away? And why d’ya hate the family business so much?" her father blurted out his inner frustrations in exasperation.

And just like a gift from Celestia herself, an avenue presented itself.

"No! Dad! Listen! Uh, that's what this is, ah, all about. It's hard for me to say, okay? I know I've been a disappointment to you and mom..."

She stopped for a fraction of a second, hoping to all hopes that she was on the right track. Her father didn't even twitch. So, it was time for her to continue.

"... but last night, I was by myself, father. I was... thinking. Thinking about a lot of things. What I meant to ask just now was, can you tell me about how all this came to be? I wanna know where... where I am in the business, Dad."

She had no idea where she was going with this. But it was a way in, and at that point she was going to take whatever she could get. She didn't even have to fake that look of desperation and frantic hopelessness on her face – those feelings were nothing less than genuine, regardless of source. She only hoped that those feelings were enough to persuade her father to tell her more about this strange place in which she woke up. Then maybe she could start piecing things together.

"Go on, pull the other one." Her father snorted.

"No, really, Dad. Really. Look, I'm not lying. You must see that, right?" pleaded Pinkie. "I've just been… I don't know how to tell you this, because you're gonna think I'm crazy, just coming up with this out of nowhere. I didn't even know how to ask you, Dad. I don't even think I'm doing it right."

He looked at her with critical eyes, dissecting her posture and expression, hoping to glean the truth from it. "Ya really serious about this, huh?"

"Yes, father," Pinkie said, with her most sincere voice. "I think I'm ready to... learn."

"Well... you ain't crazy, daughter! D’ya know how long I've been waitin' to hear those words from your mouth?" A sudden change spread throughout the businesspony standing across the desk from Pinkie. An impromptu cheerfulness and joy, a warmth that Pinkie recalled imparting upon others not one night ago. This time, however, it didn't feel like a victory for her and the science of happiness.

"Ya really, really ain't kiddin', are ya?"

"No, I'm really not," Pinkie stressed.

Her father looked away and heaved a sigh of deliverance, which felt long overdue.

"Well now, this is just great news! Where can we start? You'll be a fine mare, a fine mare indeed. I am...." He broke, to reflect upon this moment."...excited, Diane."

"Well, um...." Pinkie started, thinking hard about what she needed to know. There was, in fact, one burning issue in her mind. How did this all start? What happened to cause this? Clearly, something must have happened to change things, so maybe she should hear about it. "...I'm curious, father, as to the history of our, um, business. How did we get started?"

"Oh, Celestia bless your lips for sayin' those words." He smiled in return. "Where should I start?"

"Well, when did we come into the area?" hazarded Pinkie.

"Oh, I tell you, it was your grandpappy. Grandpappy Pie. And I tell ya what, he was one heck of a stallion. Could smell a deal a mile away, no mistake, and he definitely knew that this place was ripe for the pickin’. Of course back then, you had your other farmers comin' down from all sorts'a places fightin' for the gold. The gold that is the land, Diane. The gold that is the land.

"Now, one of them farmin’ groups was a family by the name of Apple."

Pinkie suddenly felt a chill when she heard that name.

"Yes, the Apple family, as they called themselves. Silly thing too, weren't even their actual family name. They was just in the apple cultivation business, which is mighty respectful and all, but, well. Back then it was your Grandpappy Pie and this other mare by the name of, uh... Smith, I think it was. I don't rightly remember anymore. But they both wanted this land, and you can bet your old Grandpappy weren't going to give it up without a fight.

"So they both took it to Celestia herself, and as you would have it, she was torn between the two of them! So she says, she says, you present yourself a case there, and the best case will win all the land for themselves. So of course this Smith lady goes and winds up a whole yarn about apples bein’ the foundation of life because ya gots to eat, don't you? But that is the brilliance, Diane, the brilliance of your Grandpappy, 'cause he took her words and done right twisted them up so nicely that Celestia could only see his argument wrapped around that other lady's like a snake.

"He said, sure, apples may be the foundation of life, but the foundation of everything else is stone. Stone and rock and precious gems. Because you can always buy food or find new places to grow apples, but gems and the good rock, you can't choose that. They lay where they lay, and he done pointed out that even Celestia's own castle was made out of the rock that his daddy and granddaddy mined.

"It weren’t no contest at all." Pinkie's father nodded proudly. "Well, the rest is history, as it were. I was just a young lad then, but I got straight to work on the farms, and that's when I met your beautiful lovely mother, and we raised up three beautiful daughters. And I know, I know we had our issues in the past, and I still remember that crazy day you busted in once and had the whole silo decked in party things and whatnot, but you know what? I'm glad I set you across my knee that day, 'cause it looks like you're gonna be just fine."

"Um, father?" asked Pinkie, trying her best to absorb the story. "What... what happened to the Apple family?"

"What, those ponies? What you care about them for?"

"I'm ah… curious. I just want to know what you do with, how do you say it... competitors?"

"Alright, fair enough." The suited stallion shrugged, as he walked to the side of the curtains and yanked on a huge velvet cord.

The curtains slid open, revealing the office’s magnificent view of the town.

A view that made Pinkie Pie suddenly receive a hammer to her chest and caused her vision to blur slightly as she attempted to focus on far too many things at once.

The trees were all gone: dead long ago and cleared out for miles around, making way for fields upon fields of upturned soil and huge, smouldering pits. Buildings were not the finely crafted wooden structures she knew, dotted with bright flowers and painted handrails; they were now simple grey blocks that looked like somepony had just dumped concrete there without a single second’s thought for form. Smokestacks lined the cracked-brick factories way out at the back, belching an acrid smoke into the air that indiscriminate Pegasi gathered up and moved away as part of their jobs.

Even at the edge of the vast landscape of block and metal lay a different Canterlot. No longer the shining gold and silver city of fantasy and freedom, it was now corrupted by jagged rocks and sharp edges of obsidian.

The sight of it all made Pinkie sick to her stomach.

"Magnificent, ain't it?" Her father's voice cut through the tension like a circle saw through wet cement. "And it's all ours. One day, it’s gonna be all yours too."

Pinkie had to fight back the urge to throw up.

"Anyway, over there. See that?" He pointed, way over in the distance, where Pinkie knew the edge of the town once was, toward a small hole in the ground that was surrounded by machines of all sorts. Even though she fought it, her eyes still trailed over to the blemish on the ground.

"You were askin' ‘bout the Apple family? There's Pit 53. I reckon they still work there."

The trip downstairs and out of the building gave Pinkie her biggest hint to the edifice’s identity here in this new world. The helix staircase that hugged and swirled along the outer wall, the multiple tiers of floors like the layers of a cake, and the view from the top floor gave enough evidence for a guess even before Pinkie peeled into the streets.

Her home was the old city hall building. But... had it ever been the city hall in the first place? It wouldn't have been recognized by Pinkie using sight alone, with brick walls instead of wooden slats and none of the extensions that you would usually find merrily hanging on. It honestly just looked like a boring old chimney with windows in.

And the air! The air danced with powdered rock and smoke. It lacked the freshness and purity that air should have, and it burnt her lungs for more reasons than mere acidity.

It was all wrong. Everything was wrong. She was simply not where she was supposed to be. She was a pony in another's skin. It was another Pinkie... or Diane, as it seemed she was called here, and somehow she had just ended up wearing it like a bad suit. At least, that's what she genuinely hoped, because that meant there was a body to return to in a world where things were clean and the air was fresh.

She peered up and down the street, giving it more than her routine casual glance. Once again, the general vista was recognizable, but had a drape pulled over it in shades of stone. However, there still appeared to be regular houses around, like the one across the street from the town hall. Looking upon it, though, gave her mixed feelings when she tried to consider the kind of pony who would want to live in this kind of place.

But maybe they were all like that.

She ploughed forward, each step stirring up the dust on the large slabs of tile that stood in for roads, so lost in the blankness of her mind that she almost didn't register the voice calling for her from behind.

Well, she was also not used to being called by her middle name, so when the proper pony with the half-bowl cut called out 'Diane', things didn't click quite so quickly. But eventually, she turned to address her summoner.

"Diane, where were you up there? I was calling you for ages." Twilight Sparkle motioned towards Pinkie’s head, as she walked up the street, metal-clad hooves clacking noisily on the hard surface. "Lost in your own world again, huh?"

"Twi... Twilight?"

"Yeah?" She blinked.

Pinkie's eyes wandered as they darted from element to element, piecing together the identity of the pony that was standing in front of her. Other than those ornate gold boots and that velvet, fur-trimmed vest, there was nothing else odd about her – from the colour and style of her mane, to that familiar star-scattered flank.

"Twilight, oh my gosh! You're here as well?" asked Pinkie, desperately. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean? It's Friday, isn't it? I'm always here on Friday. Are you..." Twilight's eyebrows tilted back. "... have you been taking Joke again?"

"What? No!" insisted Pinkie. "But, you're... you're Twilight Sparkle, right? From Ponyville?"

"Uh, no? I'm Twilight Sparkle from Canterlot?" She shook her head, warily, still giving Pinkie that look.

"Oh, that's right," Pinkie said, suddenly crestfallen. Perhaps she had just been a tad bit too eager to believe that she wasn’t alone. But the truth, like the fall, was hard and painful. "You're Twilight Sparkle from Canterlot."

"Diane, are you sure you're doing okay? You're acting awfully weird. I mean, you usually act weird, but that's because of... you know. But you seem different today."

"No, I'm sorry." Pinkie sighed. "I just woke up a while ago. I'm not on anything, I'm just a bit out of it."

"Oh, alright. You have to take better care of yourself, Diane." Twilight nodded, walking slowly along. "Anyway, I've got my chores to do, so why don't we walk and talk?"

"Yes, let's," Pinkie responded, keeping in step and thinking about how to properly phrase the next few questions. "Soooo, Twilight, you seen Celestia lately?"

"Now, Pinkie. I know we're friends and all, but I must insist you refer to Celestia by her given title, alright? You know only those in her inner circle are allowed to call her by her personal name," Twilight admonished Pinkie for her casual reference, yet still somehow found a way to sneak in a brag.

"I'm sorry. So, the Princess..."

"No, her full title, Pinkie. I’m sorry, but I must insist."

"Princess Celestia...?" Pinkie let her question trail off as they reached the entrance of the next house down the lane, to which Twilight turned, giving a sharp rap to the door.

"Diane, you know she hasn't gone by that title in nearly twenty years. What are you talking about?"

They stood, waiting outside the door that refused to budge.

"Oh... just... just a joke, heh... heh heh?"

Twilight frowned.

"Yeah, comedy doesn't suit you, Diane," Twilight said, giving the door a harder knock by means of a hoof thrust flat against the surface. "Open up in there! By order of Chairprincess Celestia!"

"Chair... princess?" Pinkie mouthed to herself.

At the mention of the sacred name, the door finally opened just a tiny crack, a worn and saddened face peeking out from the other side.

"Is... is it that time already?" stammered the nervous voice from within.

"I'm afraid so," said Twilight sternly, pulling out a scroll from a well-hidden vest pocket and running through a list that was found upon it. "Says here you owe all of three hundred and eighty-eight bits this fortnight."

Pinkie's head started to tilt as she grew more and more confused.

The door opened a tiny bit more, revealing a dusty silver stallion with unkempt mane and unshorn stubble. With head dipped and knees buckled, he prostrated himself before his superior, but he still kept the gap narrow as if he were afraid that he might be sucked out of his home.

"I apologize profusely, Your Grace, but we just couldn't hit capacity this week. The best we could do is... three hundred and fifty."

"Well, I'm sorry too, but you know what I have to do.” Twilight shrugged.

"Please, Your Grace! I beg of you! One more week! We will have the money, we promise!" His head bowed down even more as his words landed on the floor and sat there discarded.

"Twilight, what are you doing?" hissed Pinkie, through her teeth.

"Look, I know, okay?" said Twilight off to the side, her callous overtones lifting slightly. "I know, but they're already on second extension, and even Chairprincess Celestia's patience has a line! I mean, we let one slip and soon everypony will be slipping.”

She turned back to the pleading homeowner, with the most insincere of piteous smiles Pinkie had ever seen. "So, three eighty-eight."

"Thr... three fifty," mumbled the pony sadly, dropping a large bag of what Pinkie only assumed were bits onto the floor in front of Twilight, who dropped the smile altogether.

"Sorry," she repeated, her horn suddenly charging up with a twinkle of magic and an aura of blues and purples. From behind the door, a few high-pitched whines could be heard, prompting the owner of the house to turn around and watch as his personal possessions were magically ripped from space.

"The tables and plates?" he cried, "But how will we eat?"

"Well." Twilight gave a little shrug. "At least you still have a floor, right?"

"Twilight..." whispered Pinkie, under her breath. She was witness to the whole thing, but didn't do a single thing to stop it. And honestly, what could she do? There was not a single weapon in her arsenal that could fight against this beast, and to attempt would simply be asking for trouble.

"Thank you, sir," Twilight bowed to the homeowner, whom she left in his stance of futile opposition. With just that moment of finality, the bag of bits on the ground, too, zipped through air and disappeared along with the rest of the repossessed goods. "Come on, Diane, I've still got all of West Ponyville to cover."

"Twilight, you can't… you can't enjoy this, can you?" asked Pinkie, as they walked away. She kept looking back over her shoulder out of guilt for the scene that had just played out in front of her.

"Well, I guess I don't," Twilight responded neutrally, as if she had never really thought about it before. "But hey, it's what I was born to do, right?"

"No, Twilight, you were born to do magic! It's magic, isn't it?"

"Yeah, exactly. And Celestia has shown me how to put it to good use! I mean, it beats just sitting around all day reading books and practicing silly spells, doesn't it?"

"No!" screamed Pinkie, much to Twilight's surprise. "No it doesn't! You love to sit around and read books and practice silly spells… don't you?"

Twilight's response was just to rear back a little, and then smack her lips. It was a disappointingly frugal response.

"No... I don't," she said, plain and simply. "Listen, I have a lot of work to do today, so we'll catch up soon, alright? It seems like this is a bad time for you right now anyway. You might want to rest up and clear your head a bit. You're always like this the morning after."

With a final, sad shake of the head, expressing more disappointment than anything else, Twilight Sparkle peeled herself away and continued down the street, soldiering on with her taxation duties, as ceremoniously manifested by the Chairprincess.

This just left Pinkie alone, and afraid.

She was slowly becoming resigned to the very last thing her brain would ever be willing to admit.

That this was all real.

And that left just one thing to do: try to find a way back.

Pretending to be someone (or something) else was usually not a challenging activity for Pinkie Pie. In her previous role as another Pinkie, playing around and having a good old pantomime was absolutely nothing for her. In fact, she loved it, and cherished it as one of the most under-appreciated forms of entertainment in present-day Equestria.

Play-pretend.

That's all it is. Just keep repeating that to yourself. It's play-pretend. You're Diane now. In a world where things are upside down, and you're just trying to find out as much as you can before you jump off a bri–

No!

No. It'll be OK. Just get a hold of yourself, Pinkie. You just need to smile through it. All you ever need is to smile. The most powerful force in the world is a smile. So smile, and everything will be better.

Her eyes welled slightly with the beginnings of a tear.

Let's just move on.

Before long, she found herself standing in front of a shop along the road that led from her house to the pit. She'd stopped there because of pure instinct and nothing much else – her legs slowing to a halt in front of the door like a train pulling into a regular station.

There wasn't even a single point of contention. She knew where she was. She didn't have to look at the store and be confused by its dusty, weathered roof, or the desiccated grey paint splattered haphazardly over the front, or the lack of any sort of decorations whatsoever.

She just knew what it was, because, well, why shouldn't she? She'd been there a thousand times over. It was her true home. It was Sugarcube Corner.

She looked up at the bare wooden door – a simple, rectangular deal, devoid of jollies or merriment – and closed her eyes to enhance the deep breath she pulled in over her olfactory senses.

No smell of 30 different flavours of freshly baked cupcakes. No smell of cookie dough being laid out in the open to breathe. No smell of the taffy in the mixer being pulled through to an even, sticky consistency.

Everything was burnt. The smell of burnt oats and burnt grain clogged the air, delivering an unforgiving assault upon Pinkie's memory of the place.

She did hesitate. But this was quite natural, perhaps, seeing how she was about to come face to face with the four other closest ponies in her life: the Cake family. They were the ones who went out of their way to give her room and board for nothing, and they let her help out with what she truly loved and enjoyed to do, cooking-wise.

They had become like a family to her. And yet somehow through the hustle and bustle of daily life, she never jumped at the countless wasted opportunities to express it in words.

Would it be too late to say so now?

The door creaked open, and the smells that she picked up from the outside hit her in the face as a hot wind rushed out of the gap, carrying along the contents of the ‘Cookhouse Corner’, as the sign above the door so clearly displayed.

"We're not ready yet!" was the first thing she heard, as she pushed her way onto a barren, scuffed plank floor, which had seen too much use for its relative amount of upkeep.

The voice, that Pinkie felt relieved to recognize, belonged to Mr. Cake. Or at least, a Mr. Cake.

An instantly recognizable stallion thanks to his rather unique features and bright coat, came rushing impatiently out of the back room covered with flour and specks of some nebulous paste that looked a little like gruel. But the annoyed look he carried faded the second he saw who had entered his shop.

"Ah, Miss Diane," he said, with a jubilant inflection to his voice and a knowing wink in his eye. "How can we help you today? Did, ah, last night go as planned?"

Last night?

This was the third time, at the very least, that somepony had mentioned 'last night'. But they were mentioned in such a casual manner, and there really was no reason to focus on a trite detail like that. But now... there was something about the way Mr. Cake had said it that made Pinkie sit up and take notice.

"Last night? What happened last night?" she asked, quizzically.

"Oh, right, of course," said Mr. Cake, catching himself and tapping himself on the side of his long, square-ish snout. "Mum's the word, eh?"

"No! I mean," Pinkie Pie corrected herself, trying to chase this little lead down. "Did I tell you anything about what I was planning?"

"Well... yes. Of course you did. Don't you remember?" Mr. Cake asked, quizzically.

"Well, it appears that I do have friends here in this crazy world," Pinkie muttered to herself.

"Pardon me?"

"Alright, Mr. Cake. This is going to sound rather strange, but could you tell me what I told you before? About this thing I was doing last night."

"Diannnnne," Mr. Cake drawled, using a tone of voice reserved for mischievous children. "Are you on Joke again?"

"No! No I'm not! Why does everypony keep asking me that?" The pitch in Pinkie’s voice heightened to the point where she almost sounded like her old self again.

"I'm sorry, Diane! I didn't mean anything by it!” He gave her one of his classic Mr. Cake smiles. "But best that a friend tells you instead of–"

"I'm not on this Joke stuff, Mr. Cake," reassured the wary pink pony with the waterfall mane. "Honestly. Something happened last night, alright? And I can't remember anything about it. I'm trying to find out what it was."

"Oh, oh, that's terrible!" His expression changed for the worse, which didn't fill Pinkie with much hope. "I had a feeling something bad was going to happen. It was in the air, don'tcha know."

A small puff of smoke escaped the kitchen and billowed into the main room as if to exemplify Mr. Cake's point, where it curled up around the flat serving counters that encircled the small space.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I even told you this back then. I said, Diane, maybe you oughtn't be messing about with that kind of thing. Who knows where it's from? And magic is really dangerous when–"

"Wait, magic? What?" She interrupted.

"Yeah, the last thing you found out, as you said yesterday, was that the spiral had these strange words written all down the side. I think it was one of your other friends who slipped you the message, but you wanted to go check it out yourself before Chairprincess Celestia could take it away. Mmm, said you were going…"

"...last night..." Pinkie finished for him.

"That's about right."

"And this... um." Pinkie tried to recall what Mr. Cake had just mentioned. "This spiral. Spiral? Yes. And of course, it was at…."

"Pit 53, as it's always been."

"53? This can't be a coincidence, can it?"

"What now?"

"Nothing, Mr. Cake. Um, thank you. Thanks for everything."

"Hey... hey, it's no problem," he said, with a tinge of conscientiousness in his voice, as if unaccustomed to being thanked by the pony in front of him. "We're... we're friends, right?"

"Yes. Yes we are, Mr. Cake," Pinkie declared with solidarity on her voice. "And I'm not sure if I've said this before, but I'm really glad we are."

"Aw. I'm gonna have to tell the wife that."

"Oh, and say hi to her and the children for me, would you?"

"I sure will, Diane. And if you've got trouble with rememberin', maybe you oughta go find Doctor Shy. I don't think what happened to you is any kinds of healthy."

"Doctor Shy, huh?" Pinkie raised a curious eyebrow. "Alright, I'll do just that. Thanks again, Mr. Cake."

There was just one final nagging itch in her head that needed scratching before she could bring herself to leave.

"Say, before I go…."

"Anything, Diane."

"What'cha got cooking back there?"

"Oh, it's the usual. Porridge for the workers. Bread and tack to go. Same thing I've been baking for the past twenty years."

"Well, maybe you should consider trying your hoof at... the sweet kind of cake, one of these days," Pinkie said, with a guilty smile. "Maybe you might like it."

"Well, maybe." The pony with the related name gave it some consideration. "I mean, I guess there's more to life than just plain old bread-cakes and hardcake, isn't there?"

"There certainly is, Mr. Cake. There certainly is."

"Anyhoo, you'd best be getting along if you're wanting to get back to that pit. And I think I know you well enough ‒ you're heading off right now, ain't ya?"

Pinkie nodded.

"Yeah, that's right. Lunch hour's just about beginning. They're all gonna start pouring in any moment now, and you know how much your sisters hate seeing you hanging around here."

"Yeah... I guess you're right. I'll see you later, okay?" she said, without realising that she didn't have any intention of seeing him, or this building, or any of this place again.

"That you will, Diane."

Back on the streets, the cacophonic screams of steam whistles both near and far were just the pudding of what Mr. Cake had said ‒ that lunch hour had begun and it was time for the hard workers of the stone quarries of Ponyville to vacate their hard-hats and pick-axes and head straight to their dive of choice for their food of choice.

Although, it didn't seem like they had much to choose from.

And Pinkie – as much as her heart longed to see her sisters even for just a moment – had to trust in the warning to avoid them. Down the street, further and further she trotted, at a faster and faster pace she went, while the crowd grew around her.

It was suddenly apparent to her that she also carried about a different sort of air than she used to.

Before 'Diane', she was warmly engaged by every pony and non-pony in the whole village – not a single face a stranger and not a single hoof left unshaken.

But now as she cantered along, heads bowed away and ponies stepped aside, being pushed away by this invisible bubble that seemed to surround Pinkie. The filtering of the ponies was a nearly-subconscious reaction to her presence, and even idle conversation dropped to whisper-level at her passing, rising again when she was far enough not to be able to pick up anything clearly.

And not one single face did she recognize.

Were they even denizens of the town? It was clear that this world’s Ponyville had at least the same number of residents as her own, gauging by the number of houses. So were these unknown ponies simply generic replacements for her friends and neighbours back at home?

Probably not. They were probably just here for the work. And that was the force of industry, wasn't it? Every pony just another coat on the rack. Every name just another tag on a safety vest.

The fact that none of these ponies mattered to her – and that she didn't matter to them – was in itself a horrifying thought. After all, a stranger was simply a friend you hadn't met yet, didn't she always use to say? But here, standing in the middle of a bubble in which she was the only inhabitant, she didn't have the energy or the drive to care about any of these faces that passed by silently.

But clearly, she had more important things to concern herself with, as she approached the end of the road and came up to yet another familiar sort of landmark.

And it just looked terrible. Before this, things simply looked off. But this was in another class altogether.

Certainly, trees should not require a barrier of any kind, for any reason.

They definitely didn't require barbed wire.

But circling the tree along its midriff like a belt of vicious metal was plenty of the stuff, which complimented the two wings of reinforced barrier that extended outward from both of the tree's sides.

It was an industrial-strength, chain-link fence that grew out the sides of the house, with more of the spiky metal strands perched on the very top. From the way it leaned outward instead of in, it suggested to Pinkie that the fence was meant to keep something away rather than keep ponies inside.

And the whole thing bisected the tree neatly in two ‒ a cleaver ripping through the pleasant scene of an oak standing watch over a young streamlet.

Other buildings further down the line – perfect grey blocks – wedged themselves in the wire, workers milling in and out with no discernible pattern.

Checkpoints.

She was at the very border of Ponyville.

It was something she had also never considered before. Did Ponyville – her Ponyville – have a clear line which told you where you were standing? This one sure did. And right on the line itself was a cosy little house belonging to one of her dear, sweet, loving friends.

But where there were once leaves on the tree, there were now searchlights gracing its naked arms; and where there once was the flitter of birds and the chitter of squirrels, there were now the grinding of saws and the grunting of machinery.

A large sign swung on a branch above the main door of the nature-themed building, upon which a large red cross was painted, leaving no potential for misinterpretation.

This was the home, and perhaps clinic, of the good Doctor Shy.

She didn't know why she decided to seek out the building in the first place, but it wasn't that much of a diversion from where she was originally headed. And when Mr. Cake mentioned her name earlier, Pinkie found herself hoping that at least the pure and innocent Fluttershy would have escaped unfortunate circumstances in this universe.

"Fluttershy?" queried Pinkie, stepping into her office.

The pony she was calling for was sitting in a large, bulky, brown-leather chair, which was rather extravagant for a pony like the one she was envisioning.

In fact, her entire office was rather extravagant in the first place.

As she had discovered on the streets, Pinkie had that level of clout that provided her some benefits, evidenced by the receptionist simply waving her by and saving her the need to mingle amongst the rag-tag bunch of sick and injured ponies there in the waiting room. As Pinkie passed the receptionist's desk, which took up the space where a fireplace used to be, she was directed with a smile to proceed straight to Doctor Fluttershy's office, almost as if they had been expecting her.

Gone were those knick-knacks and haberdasheries that covered the walls and littered the shelves. Gone were the holes and nooks where the animals slept and played. This place was professional, clean, and clearly for ponies only.

Fluttershy's office wasn't hard to find. In fact, it was clearly marked out by a huge sign bespeaking her name and title of Head Diagnostician. Down the rest of the corridor that led to her office were many similar signs, albeit smaller in size, showing just how many junior doctors Fluttershy had under her wing, as it were.

Not bad. Not bad, indeed.

But the final piece to complete the picture was perhaps the one that was most important in resting all of Pinkie's worries. Would Fluttershy still remain the same child-like poppet that she was loved for?

Pinkie held her breath as the chair swivelled around.

"Diane?" The sweet, melodic voice came from the one curled up in the chair. With those big, caring eyes and her demure smile, there was really no mistaking that it was truly Fluttershy who was the big pony of the house.

"Oh, D...Diane! Thank you for... for coming."

"Fluttershy." Pinkie smiled with vast relief.

"I'm... oh, yes." The petite yellow physician hopped off her seat, stethoscope swinging around her neck and tongue depressors hopping about in her white coat pocket. "Of course, it'll just be a minute. I have it riiiiight here."

Have what? Diane thought, tracking Fluttershy's naturally hesitant movements with her inquisitive gaze.

She walked over to a drawer that was set in a very fine medicine cabinet, an old apothecary that bore the markings of an antique. Strange brews and odd-coloured potions dressed the glass front, while the depths of the drawer produced a small package of brown paper and string.

The package had a little smiley face drawn in one corner with green ink.

"Here... here you go, Diane. I just picked them not too long ago. I hope it'll do?" Fluttershy set the package down gently, holding the strings with her mouth, and nudged it across the floor to Pinkie's hooves.

Their eyes met as both of them looked back up off the floor and turned their sights upon each other.

"What's this?" Pinkie asked cautiously, giving Fluttershy a confused stare.

"Oh... oh no. I'm sorry, Diane!” The Pegasus suddenly started to fluster, her wings ruffling under her thick doctor suit. Her expression turned to one of fear, apprehension, and worry all at the same time. "It was all I could get, I... I swear. I... I had patients…. Um... please…."

Pinkie took a step toward her, bringing a hoof up to express the concern that never reached its intended recipient.

"No! Please don't hit me!" Fluttershy cowered, bringing her hooves up to block her face, which turned away instinctively.

"Oh gosh, Fluttershy, I'm not going to hit you!" Pinkie staggered backward.

"You... you aren't?" said the eye that was peeking through a gap in Fluttershy's legs.

"No! I'm just asking you what this is!" Pinkie pointed to the package.

"So... so you're not mad that it's less than usual?"

"It's less than usual?"

"Eeek!" screamed Fluttershy, huddling back again.

"No, that was... these aren’t loaded questions, okay? I'm... oh jeez, what kind of pony am I here? Fluttershy, come out from under there. Please. I'm not... I'm not gonna do anything, okay? Look, I don't even want this." She kicked the package, causing it to roll over a few times, its string trailing behind like a tail.

"Meep," Fluttershy squeaked, eyes trailing from the package back up to Pinkie, who was standing just out of swing's reach.

"Don't worry. Really," Pinkie assured.

"So... you... you're finally... off Joke?" Fluttershy asked cautiously.

"Yeah, I guess I am," said Pinkie, just agreeing because she was too tired to argue otherwise.

"Oh... but... but that's wonderful!" Fluttershy sprang up, rushing forward as if the big nasty dragon in front of her had disappeared. She draped her arms over Pinkie’s shoulders in a great hug, much to the Pink pony's surprise. "I've always told you it's bad for you, but you get so angry, and... and…."

"Yeah. I, uh, stopped." Pinkie nodded slowly.

"That's really, really, really great, Diane. I'm super happy for you!" She pushed her back and held her at leg's length.

"Um, what does that stuff do, exactly?"

"You mean you don't know?" Fluttershy asked, shocked.

"No, not really."

"Why would you eat something you don't know about?"

"Why... would you give it to me if it's bad for me?"

"Be...cause you throw my beakers around and bop me on the head and call me names if I don't?"

"That's what I did?" Pinkie asked, incredulously.

"Yes... um... do you... not remember?"

"No! Well, I mean... when you said 'hit you', I thought... you know, hit...." Pinkie swung back a leg in a punching fashion for exemplification.

"Oh, no. You'd never do that.” Fluttershy smiled gently.

"Okie dokie..." muttered Pinkie, worn down by this exchange. It would have been the perfect sort of thing for her other self, but for some reason, craziness like this was just upsetting her now. "So, what's the deal with the Joke?"

"Well, there isn't much in the way of scien... scientific study on it, of course, since it was only a while ago when we realised that it could be ingested. I guess I can add... memory loss to the list." She chuckled, gently.

"Um... those poor starving miners who originally ate it out there in the forests came to me complaining of strange sensations, and from observations it seems that it just makes ponies think differently. You know like how it would change something about you if you touched it? Well... if you ate it, it also... how should I say this?"

"It changes your personality?" guessed Pinkie.

"Yes! Well, yes. So if normally, you were a nice, kind, gentle pony, you would start to be mean, and callous, and–"

"And if you were normally really bubbly and happy all the time, you would be serious and dreary?" asked Pinkie, suddenly realising something.

"Yes! Yes, that... sounds... about right." Fluttershy smiled again. "Um... well, I am glad, Diane, that you're not taking it anymore. You seem to be back to normal, so... stay off, okay?"

Fluttershy tried giving a supportive hoof-bump to Pinkie's chest, which just came out awkwardly repressed.

"Yay?" She squealed.

But the gentle reassurance bounced off Pinkie's chest as she thought about the facts that now surfaced to light, and what it all possibly meant. Her head lowered in concentration, while she struggled to make sense of everything and considered where her current demeanour really came from.

"Well, since you're not using this, I'll throw it out," said Fluttershy, stepping close to Pinkie. She placed the package on an upturned hoof and held it just in front of her nose, letting it teeter there precariously in her quirky method of observation. "Such a waste, though. Maybe I'll use it for research. Angel Bunny sure could use a relaxant."

She pulled at the string with her teeth, letting the paper fall away to reveal a small pile of soggy leaves. Clearly, they were from the Poison Joke plant that had caused so much trouble for Pinkie and her friends that one time in her memory, though here they looked like they were shredded, dampened and rolled into small balls for what must have been ease of consumption.

"Say, Fluttershy?" asked Pinkie, suddenly jerking her head up to ask another question. "Ow!"

Once her eyes had opened again – instinctively closing after the sudden shock of having hit her head against something rather sharp and bony – the first thing she saw was the collapsed form of Fluttershy leaning over the side of her chair, which had toppled over from the sudden crash.

Joke pills lay strewn across the office floor, some still rolling around and bouncing off any surface they ran into. Fluttershy herself was emitting little coughs and gurgles as she lay back and thumped herself on the chest.

"Oh... oh my gosh, oh jeez!" cried Pinkie, suddenly entering panic mode herself. The first thing she saw was something that every doctor seemed to have in their office – a pitcher of water, which Pinkie made no hesitation in grabbing and shoving in Fluttershy's face.

She grappled at the large glass jar, turning it upward and channelling most of the clear, cool water in the general direction of Fluttershy’s mouth. The unimpeded, clear sounds of glugging meant that, at least, whatever had been clogging Fluttershy's throat was now clear.

"Are you okay, Fluttershy?" Pinkie gasped, lowering the jar and letting it fall to the floor.

"Ph..phew, yes," she responded, catching her breath. "Um... why wouldn't I be?"

"Weren't you choking?"

"Oh... no." Fluttershy shook her head, smiling slightly to reassure Pinkie. "Something just got stuck in my throat, that's all. I was just trying to cough it back up, but I could breathe just fine. Thank you ever so much for the concern!"

"You had me worried there for a second." Pinkie sighed with relief, backing up.

"Anyway." Fluttershy giggled. "If I really was choking, you probably shouldn't have given me water. I'd have died! Guess that's why you're not a doctor, huh?"

"Well yeah, I suppose so." Pinkie chuckled nervously. "Say, what was it you were choking on anyway?"

"Oh, it was just one... oh no.” Fluttershy frowned. "Oh no, oh no."

"Oh... no?" Pinkie said, stepping back just in case.

"Oh, you... why did you give me water, you stupid idiot?" Fluttershy smiled, speaking in her regular tone of voice. "Come on, I'm sure they... they taught you in school what to do in case some pony chokes, right? Or... or didn't you go to school, since you're so rich, and you have everything?"

Pinkie's mouth pulled apart slowly.

"Oh, look at my carpet! Who's going to clean this?" whined Fluttershy. "I don't have a rich daddy like you, Diane, what do I do?"

"Oh boy, Fluttershy, I am so, so sorry."

"Nyeeehhh!" the doctor squeaked, grabbing the glass jar up off the floor and heaving it toward Pinkie, who thankfully had the mind to duck instantly.

"You never loved me!" she screamed, as the glass shattered on the door.

"Oh boy, oh boy, oh jeez. Fluttershy, I'm really sorry, I really am! I... oh jeez."

Jumping carefully over the broken shards, Pinkie wrenched the door open and let it quickly shut behind her. The thumping of a body against the other side told her what the good Doctor Shy was up to.

"Diane," came the muffled voice from beyond the thin plank of wood separating them. "Diane, are you there? I'm... I'm okay now. I'm sorry. Please come back in, and we can talk about it, alright?"

Out in the hall, the receptionist who had pointed Pinkie down this corridor earlier found her way to the source of all the noise, and was now staring with quite a level of confusion at the pink doorstop.

"Please open up, Diane, I... I just wanna talk about our feelings... and bunnies."

Pinkie waved the receptionist over with her back firmly pressed against the wooden barrier.

"Um, yeah, Doctor Fluttershy has been in an accident." She tried to explain to the shocked assistant. "Um… she's definitely not going to be able to see any patients for a while."

The sharp, sudden sound of something else breaking was heard from inside the office, which made both Pinkie and her companion freeze as an autonomic response.

“Diaaaannne.” An eerie voice, speckled with nervous titters, expressed itself shortly after the crash. “Um... it’s okay now. I’m all better. All better! So let’s just all calm down and... open the door. Go ahead and just... give the handle a little push. Please. For me.”

Pinkie remained on pause. It was the best thing to do in a situation like this.

“Do it for ME, Diane!” Fluttershy shrieked.

"Yeah. She's probably going to want a doctor of her own,’ said Pinkie, nodding along with a worried expression. "Anyway, you take care of this, okay? I have to go now. Where's the back exit?"

The lady, her glasses nearly fallen off her face, pointed speechlessly toward the other end of the hall.

"Alright. Thank you. Ah, I'm going to go now, so... um... switch?" With a final embarrassed grin, Pinkie wrenched herself off the door and ran down the hall as fast as she could, and she tried not to turn back.

She didn't look back when she heard the door bursting open and the shocked screams of the receptionist. She didn't turn back at the catcalls of 'Diane' slowly echoing in the growing distance, voice dripping with the overtones of honey and liquor as she impishly requested her return. She didn't turn around when she heard the jumbled yellings of some male interns as they restrained her friend.

All she saw, as she burned out of the exit, was the bright sunlight streaming down on the other side of the fence.

The final walk to the pit was done in silent musing. Here, the trees started to grow back, albeit in small patches where the workponies didn't have to clear in order to get the machinery into the area. Ponies also became scattered into individual pockets of chums who were just milling about over break or heading toward Ponyville for some vittles and grit.

Pinkie was torn – with her strange, new logical thoughts – between having some sense of concern for the pony she had left behind and pressing forward despite it. But if the core problem was solved, then all the problems would be solved, and forward was the only way to move.

The sun was already at its peak, and the heat bore down as she approached her final destination.

And what a sight it was.

Essentially, Pit 53 was exactly what it sounded like. It was the 53rd pit. It was a huge hole in the ground, with a helical shelf made of dirt twirling down along the circumference, like a giant screw had dug it out.

All in all, Pinkie gauged it to be about the length of half a football field across. Most of the workers had left for the time being, leaving the work-site eerily still. Support struts and beams had been placed in various key locations, marking the entrances to horizontal mine shafts that stretched out underground, away from the pit's centre point.

Leaning against one section of the wall, a sloped-rail mine cart attached to a rudimentary pulley system was half-filled with an assortment of ore and rocks, waiting to be hoisted to the top of the pit where they would be processed.

Just like a spreading disease, mud and dirt poured out from this open sore, not a single blade of grass was to be found anywhere nearby. Large excavation machines sat there unattended, currently not adding to the plumes of smoke that rose in streams from other pits in the far-off distance.

But all this was inconsequential in comparison to that thing, sitting there in the very centre of the crater.

It stuck out of the grime and muck, not yet completely excavated, but was still impressive in its stature. An unknown amount of it remained hidden underground, away from Pinkie's eyes, but enough was showing for her to describe it as what it appeared to be.

It was a spiral, made of stone.

It looked as if somepony had mangled two tentacles in a twist, curling it all the way from base to tip in an uneven pace – and shoved it there in the ground.

And Pinkie didn't know how she knew, but instantly, the concept of visiting it last night popped into her head, in a sort of foggy memory that was half real and half made-up.

She didn't actually remember having seen it, no. This was definitely the first time she'd ever set eyes on that strange statue, but something about it made her chew her bottom lip in apprehension as an overbearing sensation of creepiness snuck into her gut.

The very air around the strange, warped column pulled at her skin, the hairs all over her body pricking up in alarm.

But when somepony called her name abruptly from behind, she bit down hard – sending a sudden jolt of pain through her lip. Other than the needle-sharp pangs, it had the unintentional benefit of bringing her disposition back to a regular state, allowing her to twirl around to see who had called her.

"Diane, oh, Diane, it has been aggggeeeees," sang Rarity, running up to her, mane bouncing up and down. And behind her, an even more colourful surprise came touching down into the landscape, as Rainbow Dash hit the ground hard without reservation.

"Rarity! Rainbow Dash?" Pinkie exclaimed.

"Why yes," said Rarity, confirming it with a nod and a smile. "How long has it been?"

"Hey," said Rainbow Dash uninterestedly, pulling a dour face.

The whole scene in front of Pinkie felt like it had fallen down sideways. For one, Rarity's mane – which was the first thing that Pinkie caught sight of – was short. It had been shorn down, and barely reached past her horn. And while it still bore some of Rarity's trademark curls and natural buoyancy, it was lacking in its customary amount of volume.

She was also wearing a vest similar to what the workers were wearing: ratty and tattered in places and severely begging for a touch-up. It was the most foul of red plaid, over which strips of hideously bright safety tape was applied. It made Rarity look like a neon-rave lumberjack being followed around by a preppy assistant, which was exactly how Rainbow Dash was portraying herself – from sharp-framed spectacles down to a wad of tortured gum in her mouth.

"Did you get a mane-cut?" was the first question Pinkie could think of to ask.

"Oh, not for months, dear. I know, it's getting long, isn't it?" Rarity shrugged. "But I just don't have the time. Rainbow, dear, do I have–"

"Nope," Rainbow interrupted, throwing the gum to the other side of her mouth while staring uninterestedly at a tractor.

"There, you see? I'm booked solid this whole month. Your father keeps me very busy, don't you know!"

"Yeah, I'm... I'm sure. I'll have to talk to him about that, heh... heh..." Pinkie joked.

"But it's such a pleasure to see you again, Diane!" elaborated Rarity, "you were always the most fun of the three daughters, after all."

"Well, thank you, but..." Pinkie searched, "...what brings you two out here?"

"Oh, of course you know Dash follows me everywhere, the poor dear. She's virtually un-hireable in this climate." Pinkie noticed Rainbow Dash rolling her eyes exaggeratedly behind Rarity. "But she's a... good assistant, though sometimes rather, well, laconic."

"I told you, I ain't got nothin' to say!" Dash said exasperatedly.

"Ah, the dear." Rarity smiled. "And I am here by request of the big boss himself! Usually I'd be down by the West pits this time of month, as you know, but your father called me up just last night and told me that my assaying magic would be needed here on this very day."

Rarity leaned in closer to Pinkie to whisper. It was just for effect of course, since there was nopony else around, but darn it if Rarity didn't enjoy her drama. "He's paying me double, you know. Stew and cider on me, mm?"

"Oh yes, of course, Rarity. But what's the job?"

"Well, I have no idea! I'd already done this pit, I said. I found all the veins and marked them down, and this one is essentially tapped out, but your father insisted that they had found something special. Something that I missed, if you can believe that!"

"What, you? No!" Pinkie played along.

"Yes, imagine that! I never miss anything, do I, Rainbow?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dash grumbled. "Whatever."

"Ah, the dear. But anyway, there it is, over there. You can't miss it." Rarity gestured with her leg toward that thing in the pit. "Makes you wonder how I did. It was almost like it just appeared, so said the reports. The pit boss tripped over the tip of that ugly rock, and they've been pulling it up ever since. I guess your father just wanted to see what else might be around."

"Rarity? Why do you work for my father?" Pinkie sighed.

"What... whatever do you mean, dear?"

"Haven't you... always dreamt of being a great designer? Making dresses?"

A sort of shadow swept across Rarity's face suddenly, as that expressive gleam in her eye faded into a look of lamentation.

"Well, that was something I dreamed of as a child, Diane, yes. How did you know about that?"

"I... you must have told me before, Rarity." Pinkie shrugged.

"No. I've never told anypony," Rarity said, regret clinging to every word.

Even Rainbow Dash started looking away, feeling a bit awkward at the sudden change in mood.

"But why not?"

"Well, what's the point? It was just a silly childhood dream. But this is real life. I put my skills to appropriate use."

"But don't you want to live your dreams?"

"No, because that's what dreams are, aren't they? I mean... look... look at Rainbow Dash here. She'd always dreamed of being part of the Wonderbolts, but then the Wonderbolts disbanded and... well, she's just doing what she can to get along."

"Hey! don't go tellin' everypony my life story, huh?" Rainbow Dash objected.

"That's... that's real sad, Rarity," muttered Pinkie Pie. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's fine, darling," Rarity responded, perking up again instantly and changing the topic. "I'm honestly far more curious as to where you learnt about that in the first place! How about... how about we get that cider and we can talk about it, hmmm?"

"Sure, Rarity, that sounds great." Pinkie nodded, dismally.

"Rainbow, clear my Saturday schedule and pen in Diane for a brunch, would you?"

"Yeah, alright," Rainbow said, doing absolutely nothing.

"Fantastic! Now, let us be off. I'm still on the clock, you know!"

"Alright, good bye, Rarity, and... Rainbow Dash, for what it's worth."

With one last final snide look from the Pegasus and one last tilt of the head from the Unicorn, the earth pony was left alone, once again, with her thoughts.

Pit boss, huh? Maybe this pit boss will know something about that stone spiral thing. After all, he found it, didn't he? Must have made the reports too, and he'd definitely be in charge of overseeing the dig. That ought to be a good place to start.

And just as luck would have it, she chanced upon a stray worker who had mulled around for a noon-time nap rather than going for a quick bite.

"Say, excuse me," asked Pinkie, running up to the vested worker.

"Oh! Uh, Miss Diane. Hi," he responded gruffly, rolling up from his back. He definitely didn't expect to be speaking to a member of the Pie family, and he definitely didn't know how.

"Say, I was just wondering, where can I find the pit boss at this time?"

"Oh, Applejack? She's right over there.” The worker pointed toward a single apple tree that was left, sticking out like a sore thumb, way over where the machines couldn't get at it. "In her usual spot."

"Applejack?" Pinkie's eyes shot open. "Thank you."

She hadn't even finished receiving the garbled welcomes from the worker when she started to sprint toward the tree, and as she got closer and closer, an orange sight for sore eyes grew larger as it lay underneath the shaded boughs, lazing with her back against the bark and a blade of straw in her mouth.

"Applejack? Applejack?" Pinkie yelled frantically, stopping dead short of the lone wood soldier, and planting herself in front of the overseer of the operation.

"Whoa there," Applejack said, a bemused smirk on her face. "What's eatin' you, Diane?"

"Applejack! You're okay! You're... I mean... you're here!"

"Well yeah, dummy, where else would I be this time'a day?"

"You work for my father?" Pinkie exclaimed.

"Uh, yeah? Everypony 'round these parts does. Uh... what's goin' on, Diane?"

"I'm not taking Joke!" she yelled, answering the question pre-emptively.

"Uh... alright. I wasn't 'bout to suggest that anyhow. But you sure are actin' all hopped up on somethin'."

"Applejack... we... we're friends, right?"

"Yeah, 'course we are, Diane. What's up?"

"Applejack, how... how close are we?"

"Diane, I'm your best friend, alright? Don't you worry 'bout that. If you're in trouble...."

"No... no. I'm not. I'm not in trouble. Not... really."

The mechanics involving this relationship were thrown out the window the second the words 'best friend' came into play. Of all the ponies in this crazy new world, she would have never guessed or even begun to consider that Applejack was this close to her. With how her father reacted to her inquiry about them back in his office, this must have been one of her most closely guarded secrets.

"Applejack," said Diane slowly, guilt pouring from her every word now. "How... how can we be friends?"

"What d'ya mean? We've always been friends. Since th' day we met."

"But... didn't my family chase your family out?"

"Well... yeah, but that was just what happened, wasn't it? I mean, some of th' family left, and some of them stayed. My parents stayed, is all. How's that change anythin'?"

"Because... because you're not supposed... I'm not supposed to be here!" Pinkie began to wail, not really answering the question.

"Oookay, Diane," said Applejack, pushing herself up and getting back to her hooves. "Now you just crossed th' line from strange ta junebug on a hot tin roof. I'm gonna have to ask you just what the hay happened last night."

Pinkie sighed, letting her exhaustion and confusion show openly on her face.

"Applejack?"

"Yeah?"

"I have something to tell you, okay?"

"Yeah, I'm listenin'."

"I'm not Diane."

"You ain't?"

"No. I'm... I mean I am Diane, but I'm not this Diane."

"O...kay? Still not makin' a lick 'a sense there."

"You're going to think I'm insane, Applejack."

"I think I'm about halfway there, Diane, so you might as well go full hog on this one."

"I... I'm not from this Ponyville," explained Pinkie. "My name is Pinkamena Diane Pie. Not 'Diane Pinkamena'. And I come from a world where you, Applejack, you own these lands. Not my father. Not this horrible thing! I don't come from this horrible place! It's all horrible!"

"Wait, whut?"

"No, really! Please listen!" begged Pinkie, tears coming to her eyes. "I woke up here last night. I'm not this Diane pony that everyone else thinks I am! And I don't know who to trust but you said you're my best friend and I don't know if you are but I have to tell somepony and I just decided to tell you!"

"Okay, calm down. Calm down. I'm not following, Diane."

"I..." Pinkie repeated, slower this time. "... am from another world. Another Ponyville. When I woke up this morning I was here. I'm the only one who remembers. And I'm not crazy, and I'm not being affected by Joke, okay? I don't know how I got here, but I'm just trying to get back! All my friends are different. My family is different! Everything is different! And only you... only you still seem to be the same, Applejack. Why are you the same?"

"I... I don't rightly know," Applejack mumbled, still trying to process the story. "But y' know what? I... I think I believe ya'."

"W... why?" Pinkie asked, quizzically. It was a boon, but she honestly had expected to have to work a bit more.

"Well, ta tell you th' truth, I kinda had a funny feelin' about that there stone spiral we dug up a few days ago. I didn't tell nopony, but... well, it makes my head itch, y'know?"

"Yeah, I think I know what you mean. I feel icky when I look at it."

"I'm pretty sure it's magical. I was gonna tell somepony eventually, but... the boys'r all spooked by it, and Rarity's here today to do a proper job of examinin’ so...."

"And it all comes down to last night, Applejack. Please, tell me everything that happened."

"Well, 'twas about two days back. We'd found the thing and started on diggin' the sucker up, and you came around like you always do. Well, we gets ta talkin’, and you say you wanna go down there and have a look-see for yourself. Now, of course, your sisters didn't like that none, and they were around that day, so we decided to arrange for a little personal visit the next day."

Pinkie nodded, listening intently.

"Now, we set it so you'd come by really late, and you brought some cornbread from town, and we had a lil' old snack, and you went down there to look. I didn't follow, because I was keepin' guard, but that's... well, this next part's why I think I believe ya."

"Did something happen?"

"'Course somethin' happened." Applejack shrugged nonchalantly. "There was some kinda funny light and a wind blowin' out of the pit, and it plum went away, just like that. I rushed down, of course, and you were just standing there with your hoof on the rock, looking at it like a chicken caught in a lamplight."

"But I shook you around a bit." The overseer continued. "And you said you were fine, but just a bit, well, shaken, I guess. And then you went home and said you'd come see me in th' mornin'."

"I... but what is that thing?" asked Pinkie, pointing toward the hole where the spiral was nesting.

"Beats the hay outta me," said Applejack, honestly. "I did tell ya not to go touchin' it and all, but I guess you did. And now you're sayin' you're somepony else. So either you're tellin’ the truth, or it made your brain funny, but... I don't know, sugar. For some reason, I just feel there's somethin' a little bit more than brain fuddlin' goin' on here."

"I guess... I guess there's only one thing I can try," said Pinkie. "I have to go back. I just don't belong here. I'm... I'm really sorry, Applejack."

"Hey, what are you sorry for?"

"I'm really not sure... I... I guess I feel guilty for trying to leave. This place is so messed up. I really feel like I should stay to fix things."

"Well, listen, sweetheart. You really think you ain't Diane, right? And you're tryin' ta get back? That means that ya left some other ponies behind on your side of the world. It's nice that you think you wanna fix this ‘messed up world’, but for me... and for the other Diane, it's just our world. It's how things are. There ain't nothin' ta' fix. So I tell you what, I'm gonna play along just for this one time, okay? You go do what you wanna do, and then... if that don't work, maybe we see about your head, how 'bout that?"

"Th... thanks for helping me, Applejack. You're a real friend. Both here and back home."

"Yeah, well, I was bored, anyway. Slow day t'day.” Applejack smiled.

The two of them ran down the side of the pit, along the ramp, a long road to get to something a very short way away. Rarity and her reluctant aide were there, of course, but were currently also circling the pit, Rarity's horn blazing in an attempt to find more hidden treasures.

But Pinkie dashed past, Applejack trailing close behind, as they darted straight toward the ominous monument.

It rose above them. Clearly, it was far more imposing than what Pinkie had originally given it credit for, and standing right beneath its shadow, she could feel the prickles on her skin again. The whole thing discharged an aura of something quite terrible into the air, as the twin cones – wrapped around each other in a macabre dance – curled up toward the heavens.

"Well, that's it then." Applejack gestured for Pinkie to continue forth with a flick of her head. "Go on."

"I don't know what to do!" shouted Pinkie.

"Well, I don't know either. Touch it, I guess? Same as you did before? Maybe that'll do somethin'?"

But Pinkie halted.

A deep tightness had grown in her chest, squeezing and throbbing.

Anxiety?

But why?

Maybe she was scared of what would happen.

But perhaps she was scared of what wouldn't.

After all, the more she thought about it, the more crazy it seemed, didn't it? And just maybe... maybe this was her life and everything else had been a dream all along….

But could she have dreamt up a lifetime of history outside of just this one day?

She swallowed heavily, looking at Applejack, who nodded a final supporting ‘OK’.

And then – gathering all her strength – she shoved her hoof onto the cold, black exterior of the stone spiral.

"EEEEEEEEAAAAUUUGH!" Pinkie screamed, sitting bolt upright in bed, her forehead sticky with perspiration and her eyes watering slightly. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!"

Immediately her hooves went up, feeling her face, running over her curly, pink locks, and graciously recognizing the comfort of her one-pony, cotton bed – the one with the streamers and confetti – as she bounced out of it and started hopping madly around the room.

"It was a dream! It was a dream!" she sang, joyously finding the energy within herself to do so once again. It felt far longer than it actually had been since she could do this without effort, and she basked in the delight of her returning spirit. "I'm home! It's home! I love home!"

Back to normal.

It was unmistakably her room: the one at the top floor of the confectionery store. And as she cavorted and twisted and danced around, she narrowly missed getting smacked right in the face by the door bursting open.

"Pinkie? Pinkie?" Twilight gasped, frantically rushing in and looking around.

"Twilight!" squealed Pinkie, rushing over. "What a surprise to see you! And a delight! Which is it, Twilight? Well maybe it's just a delightful surprise!"

"Pinkie, is everything alright?" Twilight asked, eyes darting as Pinkie ricocheted from wall to wall in some kind of weird morning ritual. "I was just downstairs when I heard the scream, so I rushed up–"

"Yes! Yes! Everything is peachy! Everything is beautiful and perfect, and it was... it was all a dream, Twilight! It was all a bad, naughty, disgusting... and really realistic dream!"

"Had a nightmare, Pinkie?"

"You betcha! I'll tell you all about it later! Say... what are you doing here, anyway? Not to say I don't want you here, but you know, like I said, it was a delightful surprise, and a surprising delight, so I'm just wondering!"

"Well, you know!" Twilight had to give a little chuckle. "You always go out of your way to visit everypony. So... since you came to visit me yesterday, I just figured that I'd repay the favour, that's all."

"That's great!" screamed Pinkie, "Today I was going to go visit somepony else. It's Applejack, today! Isn't it? Is it?"

"I have no idea, Pinkie."

"Of course it is, Twilight!" Pinkie said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "So why don't we go together? And I'll tell you that craaaaaazy dream story when we're there! Oh, Applejack's gonna wanna hear it too!"

Dragging Twilight by her leg, Pinkie dashed downstairs, waving hi to Mr and Mrs Cake, who were busy making the proper kind of baked goods. Never before had Pinkie been so happy just to see frosting.

"Hi, Mr. Cake! Hi, Mrs. Cake! Hi, babies! Good morning!"

"Good morning, Pinkie," Mr. Cake replied, covered with flour. "Are you headed out?"

"Yep! We're going to Applejack's! So I'll see you later! Bye, Mr. Cake!"

The two girls burst out of the front door, into the bright morning sun. The refreshment and serenity of it all filled Pinkie’s heart as she stood by the wall of Sugarcube Corner.

"So you'll never guess, Twilight!" Pinkie said, staring into the sky and letting the sun blind her a little. But she didn't mind. It was just the feeling of Ponyville – her Ponyville – and she never wanted to forget this moment. "It was a dooooozy of a dream!"

"What happened?" asked Pinkie's companion, as they turned the corner and started towards Sweet Apple Acres.

And there was a strange silence from Pinkie Pie.

In fact, it was after a few steps when Twilight realised that Pinkie wasn't walking anymore.

Twilight stopped, backtracked and found Pinkie staring off into the far distance, her eyes glazed over and bulging slightly. She usually looked like that when she was distracted by something shiny or pretty, but this time she wasn't even smiling.

"Twilight...?" asked Pinkie, with a disturbing lack of energy. "What is that?"

"What, that thing? Uh... it's the stone spiral, Pinkie; you know that."

Far off in the yonder of Ponyville, surrounded by trees, was a sight that Pinkie had not intended to see. Not here. And not ever again.

But yet.

Unmistakably.

Stretching towards the sun were the two intertwined tendrils, shining black in the morning light, casting a shadow across Pinkie’s quivering lips.

It was so tall, and so large, that it could be seen clearly even from where they were, and it stood silently like a guardian over the landscape of the town.

"Why... why is that thing there?" questioned Pinkie, in disbelief.

"It's... always been there, Pinkie. It's been there forever. Nopony knows where it came from or what it's for, but it's... always been there. I think it was there even before Ponyville was founded. Um... are you okay, Pinkie? You seem a bit weird."

"No...." Pinkie shook her head, her curls and locks bouncing back and forth. "No! NO!"

And suddenly she took off, running as fast as she could in the opposite direction, running as far away as she could from that thing, that obelisk that watched her and laughed at her as she fled.

Her screaming brought Mr. Cake out from the store, where he was met by a very confused and bewildered Twilight Sparkle.

"That's the second time this morning!" exclaimed Mr. Cake. "What in the world is going on here today?"

Twilight gave a little shrug. Her eyes returned to the stone spiral, as she wondered what could have brought about such an odd response.

"It's just Pinkie Pie being herself, I guess," she said, as they both watched her trailing off into the distance. "It's just Pinkie Pie being herself."