Chapter 3, Part 1: The Meeting of Worlds

January 4, 1946 (Two Days after “the Flash”)

Aboard the USS Alabama, Somewhere in the Mid-Atlantic, Approximately 25 degrees N, 25 degrees West

The crew aboard the USS Alabama had been given a peculiar task. None of their missions during the recently ended Second World War had matched the level of uniqueness ascribed to the task at hand.

Two days before, they had received orders directly from Harry Truman, the President of the United States to leave their predestined course on their return journey to America from the Mediterranean Sea to scout for a new continent. Initially, Fred Kirtland, the confused captain of the Alabama, had sought confirmation to the orders from the Secretary of the Navy, uncertain as to whether the orders were genuine or were the result of some typographical error or some prank. Perhaps the rumours about the 33rd President’s mental faculties were correct, and this order to find an 8th continent were nothing more than the delusional fantasies of a mad man.

However, the order was confirmed and was followed by exact coordinates for the USS Alabama, the closest ship to them, to go to. Apparently over the past two days, there had been repeated sightings by naval vessels and aircraft of an inhabited continent, approximately the size of Greenland. How this continent arrived is unknown. However, according to the testimony of one ship captain, there had been a blindingly bright light and then the sudden appearance of a landmass on the horizon.

Suddenly, one of the captains navigators came rushing into his quarters, breathless.

“Sir-” he said, pausing to catch his breath. “We have spotted the mysterious island. You won’t believe what else we’ve seen.”

Surprised that the rumours had indeed turned out to be correct, Kirtland turned to the seaman. “Well spit it out!”

“We’ve spotted a port and have picked what appear to be radio communications.”

“Are you joking with me sailor?” Asked the captain.

“No sir! You won’t believe what else we’ve discovered about this civilization.”

“What.”

“There appear to be civilized ponies that live on this continent.”

The captain said nothing. Under any other circumstances he either label the very notion of a magical 8th continent appearing or sentient animals forming their own civilization as preposterous and nothing more than the delusions of a drunken sailor or a schizophrenic. However, as a man of reason, he couldn’t dispute evidence.