The record's golden coated surface glinted in the low light like an unearthed gem, subjected to scan after scan before she even tried playing it. She confirmed some things she already thought — it had absolutely no magic in it's composition, so it wasn't ponymade. It was old, incomprehensibly so, perhaps a couple hundred thousand years or more. It held information more than just sound, though in ways that made Twilight's head spin. It felt almost magical, but held no real mana, reminding Twilight most similarly of a projection circle for broadcasting images or memories.