Cyclopean eye gleaming, light-emitting crystals blinking, fingers twitching, its exposed internal circuitry glowing, the Director delayed his answer. Tarnish realised it was pulling up files; he barely understood the process, except that it took time to bring information up out of the basement, or wherever these files just so happened to be stored. The crystalline fibre tether that connected the mechanical centaur to the hub in the middle of the ceiling blinked and flashed.

Feeling that time wasn’t something to be wasted, Tarnish began to retrieve food and drink from his saddlebags. As he did so, from the corner of his eye, he saw several tiny automatons cautiously peeking out from behind a steel door. They were little things and as one of them stumbled out of hiding, Tarnish saw that it was shaped like a pony. Of course it was. Centaurs loved their little ponies, and even existing beyond death, transcending to a mechanical form, the centaurs had found a way to bring their beloved ponies with them. He now understood why the Director wanted his helpers to be kept safe.

The autonomous construct was foal-sized and Tarnish suffered some unknown pang of emotion.

Rainbow Dash and Daring Do sat down together. Meanwhile, Vinyl began pulling wrappers off of foodstuffs while Tarnish pulled out a flask of his special tea, so he could take a few necessary sips. As for the Director, it was frozen in place now, unmoving, and the only indicator it still had function were its many blinking lights.

“Skyreach,” the Director said, its voice low and steady, “is a monument to hubris and folly. We centaurs foolishly believed that we could wage war upon war itself, and put an end to all conflict. To this end, we failed of course, but we sought to battle the various causes of war and the things that drive creatures to conflict.” When it stopped speaking, it hung its head, and the cyclopean eye seemed just a little bit dimmer.

Rainbow Dash tore open a compressed oatmeal ration bar from Twilight’s pack.

“We started off with the most noble of intentions,” the Director continued, its eye still dim. “Some great conflict ruined our species, something so terrible we purged our collective memories of it. I cannot even begin to speculate what it was, or might be. We had to voyage through the Sea of Stars to escape it and we became voidfarerers, explorers of the vast unknown.

“When we arrived at this place, we found a most peculiar species; the alicorn. We knew of other equine species, unicorns, pegasus ponies, and the common pony, but alicorns were unique. Something unknown. Their discovery gave us hope and we took it as a sign. We settled here and went to work on our grand plans. Filled with hope and good intentions, we began to uplift the alicorn species, and made the first of many incremental improvements.

“But all of this is the dawn of our shared history, and Skyreach wasn’t even an idea. Not yet.”

Sipping from his flask, Tarnish gave thought to everything the Director said. Odd thoughts existed on the edges of his perception, a strange, unsettling sense that he already knew this history. It was as if something within him was on the verge of waking up, something that had slumbered for far too long and was now groggy as it stirred.

Looking away, the Director offered up an aside and said, “Magical equines are an old species. Stories of pegasus ponies and unicorns appeared in the myths and folklore of many. When we were travellers, when we roamed the stars, we encountered many cultures who revered magical equine species. Some of which were only stories, myths, while others were very real. Like us, they somehow spread out across the known dimensions and worlds.”

With a gesture of its mechanical hand, the Director conjured up an image familiar to Tarnish: the primordial alicorn. Short, squat, it was best described as a pegasus with a solid earth pony body and a horn. There was nothing particularly graceful or beautiful about it, and it wasn’t all that appealing. It wasn’t even like Twilight Sparkle, because the primordial alicorn had the primordial pony-form. It would be kind to call them cave-ponies—though one could make the argument that they were hideously ugly.

“The alicorns of this world had a connection to harmonious magics that we lacked. As we uplifted them, refined them, we took some of their genetics and made it our own. Our gene splicing was a desperate effort to make ourselves as peaceful and gregarious as possible, to erase our violent genetic heritage. After erasing the entirety of what we once were, even the memory of it, we were free to forge new bodies for ourselves, and we did. We strove for perfection… but for all of our successes, we still had throwbacks… problematic centaurs with undesirable traits. Blemishes that we could not seem to correct. But under our care, our guidance, the alicorns flourished. Their magic awakened, and with it, their potential. They were extraordinary creatures, wonderful creatures, and we were honoured to be their caretakers.”

Again, the Director paused, and somehow, it radiated sadness, though how, Tarnish could not say. He sipped more tea and nibbled on a compressed dried fruit bar—really, he should have saved it for crumbling up into a bowl of oatmeal, but he wanted something sweet. Having seen into the past, Tarnish had glimpses of what the Director spoke of. The centaurs truly loved the creatures in their care.

“Skyreach began as a weapons research facility,” the Director said as the image of the primordial alicorn vanished from view. “We made weapons to secure peace. Terrible weapons that would make war impossible. We wished to erase war from our future, and we set out to do just that. The first plans were made to weaponise destiny, clumsy plans, perhaps, but that idea took us places.

“We had to study what destiny could do, or might do, and we needed to test some of our weapons, like the planet-crackers. To this end, knowing that other whens and wheres existed, we began to create our own. Project Nautilus began the spiral of worlds. The alicorns aided us and with our combined magic, we began manufacturing reality itself. We shaped some worlds, with the hopes of bringing about specific results, and allowed other worlds to form randomly.

“With an infinite number of worlds at our disposal, we made weapons great and terrible. Weapons so awful that we eventually shamed ourselves with their creation. For whatever reason, we were no safer from the dark forces that lurk in our universe, or other universes. We tested all manner of ends, deterrents, we tried every method at our disposal, but the civilisations we manufactured kept destroying themselves. Especially the high magic ones. It was as if they could not be dissuaded from their own destruction.

“Eventually, we focused more on destinies. We treated them like trees, pruning the many branches, and in time, we made new trees. Specific trees. To continue this metaphor, some of these trees began bearing fruit. Random results gave way to specific branching patterns. Predictable ones. We began to understand how these trees grew. By observing millions and billions of years of life, after studying tangent universes, and bubble universes, and mirrored universes with parallel development, we began to understand pattern divergence and convergence. It seemed promising, so we focused on mastery.”

From somewhere within the depths of her saddlebags, Rainbow Dash pulled a foil-wrapped package of dehydrated apple chips, no doubt a taste of home. Tarnish found himself smiling without knowing why. It felt good to be safe, to be secure, and to see his friend have a moment of happiness. As the Director prepared to say more, Tarnish felt Vinyl lean up against him and he heard her heave a contented sigh.

“We began to notice that certain ponies stood out. They always stood out. So we tinkered more with the means to influence Chosen Ones. No matter the world, no matter the circumstances, no matter the situation, there would be a replication of patterns and these patterns would produce specific Chosen Ones. A good example is Twilight Sparkle, who took many forms, many bodies, and appeared during many points of time. Just a little while ago, I observed a divergence where she was one of the Founders of Equestria. She was also a half-dragon, half-griffon. A griffagon. She was a champion for ponykind, who is having a rough go of things in this divergence.”

“How?” Rainbow asked around a mouthful of apple chips when the Director paused for a moment. “I mean, for all of that to happen. How?”

“Griffagons are not well liked or well loved. Like so many crossbreeds, they suffer misfortune. Being a Twilight template, this one suffered advanced misfortune. Her egg was abandoned not long after being laid, and was found by a kindly mare named Twilight Velvet. Twilight Sparkle was raised with equine ideals and values. She explored the unique magic she possessed. And when the Smooze came and ruined everything, Twilight Sparkle was one of the ones who battled said Smooze. After its defeat, she and her friends led the survivors to a new land, one untouched by the Smooze’s corruption.”

There was a soft metallic clatter when the Director drummed its fingers against its chin.

“There is so much to say. Too much to say. It is far too easy to go off topic.” The mechanical centaur pulled its hand away from its face and folded its arms over its somewhat skeletal torso. “The purpose of Skyreach changed over time. With the alicorns influencing our decisions, this place had new directives, new goals. We explored new types of magic and set our sights on infinite horizons. Conflict remained our enemy. So many worlds destroyed themselves… with great magic came great evil and so we set about trying to find a way to ensure that life continued.

“We saw our own end. Across so many worlds, we saw centaurs similar to ourselves disappear. So many templates and experimental forms, just lost. Vanished. It was as if they were just erased from existence. We had no idea what was causing it, but we suspected that it would happen to us here, in this place, this point of origin. When we died, whole worlds went dark, as there was nothing strong enough to hold back great evils and world-ending threats.

“Our world is a hub of sorts, and we knew that if this world ended, everything else would face eventual collapse. Plans were made for a new type of alicorn, one bonded to powerful primordial spirits, eternal things that exist across all realities. Time is a powerful magic all its own, so we started there. Death too, is a primordial force, and so we sought to tap into that. With the propagation of worlds that we had created, the infinite explosion of growth, we found a delicate but powerful thread of magic that wove everything together, a type of magic that is unique to infinity. And then, after much effort, we tapped into the very essence of life itself, and learned how to draw from that magic.”

Unfolding its arms, the Director looked down at Tarnish, its light-emitting crystals blinking. “We gave these primordial spirits bodies, vessels for them to inhabit. What once had no form of its own, we gave shape. We forged new life, and in doing so, we began to unravel the secrets of existence. Nothing was forbidden. Everything was possible. With every resource we had at our disposal, we created four perfect beings. At least, we believed them perfect. Where we had failed, we had high hopes that what we had created would succeed.

“The four siblings were beings of immense power. Gods, I suppose they could be called. We had taken intangible, vague concepts that are the foundations of existence, and we gave them bodies. Minds. Means to converse. We gave them free agency. After they were born, we gave them names.

“Chronos. Pale. Eternity. Terra Firma. These were the names of our salvation. We centaurs had played the roles of gods, benevolent creators, but these four made our power seem insignificant. Compared to them, we were nothing. Mere insects. We centaurs had failed to forge our own perfection, but it could be argued that we had created perfect beings. The four of them took charge of Skyreach, and soon, a golden age of great advancement was ushered in.”

Tarnish felt something within him stir, and he was seized with an almost uncontrollable urge to smash the Director into junk. Disturbed, alarmed by his reaction, he fought to hold it in, and was puzzled by his sudden urge for violence. Perhaps this place was getting to him. In his mind’s eye, he could see himself bringing his wrench down upon the Director, over and over, until there was nothing left but scrap.

“Eternity, touched by infinity, gave that magic physical, tangible form, and called it Ink. With it, she created new magic, and with this new magic, new life was given to the expanse of whens and wheres spawned from this very factory. Always a clever one, some might say infinitely clever, Eternity began a project that bore her name: Project Eternity. With the aid of her siblings, she began to weave reality and magic together, and she drew upon two great constants, Light and Darkness itself. With infinite reach, she anchored these souls across the multi-cosmos, with everything that ever was, everything that is, and everything that ever will be.”

Tarnish heard a buzzing in his ears, like a whole swarm of bees, and then he felt something wet and hot on his lips. Going cross-eyed, he looked down at his nose, his muzzle, and saw blood. He felt swimmy headed, and when his tongue flicked out over his lips, he tasted the salty, coppery twang of blood.

“Oh my,” the Director remarked. “You’re bleeding. You’re all bleeding. I sense something, something I haven’t felt in eons.”

Multi-coloured starbursts exploded in Tarnish’s vision, and the buzzing in his ears became a distant droning sound. The skin around his horn bubbled, like hot wax, and two antlers sprouted. They grew with remarkable rapidity, but Tarnish couldn’t observe them, as his sides had torn open, his flesh peeling apart as two wooden branches sprouted from his withers. These branches took on the skeletal form of wings, and began to sprout feathery leaves.

It was quite impossible to scream and as his body transformed, a paper pony popped into existence.

Author's Notes:

Well, part of an answer, anyhow.