Transponyism

Miska shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, nuzzling the collar of his coat closer up to his neck. Still dressed in his work clothes underneath, he was huddling in a line outside a professionals club downtown, its name bolted just over the door in neon blue: Five Inches. He waited just behind Bethany, unintentionally covering her from most of the wind blowing from in back of them, the rest of their group tonight consisting of about half the lab, four others with him and Beth.

“C’mon, big guy, we’re here every week. Get us out of the cold while you check your cute little pad,” Beth whined, arms crossed high on her chest.

A slender, suited man covered in a parka up to his nose held back the party. His attention was focused on a holo-expanding tablet, a wide holographic screen projected atop a much smaller device in his hands. He waved a gloved finger in front of the hologram, scrolling it appropriately.

“I’m not getting my ass fired if you messed up an easy reservation, Bethany,” the man scoffed, a swath of hot breath escaping out the top of his parka. He scrolled back the way he had just come. “Just about a full house tonight. If you didn’t—never mind, never mind. I got you. Table’s all yours.”

“You’re the shittiest door guy I know. Start checking your shit ahead of time,” Beth growled as she brushed past him, leading her coworkers inside. Miska heaved a cloud of breath as he followed.

Two in the group dropped their coats off at the entrance, but Miska and the others tucked them under their arms. Miska pulled his gloves off next, barely shoving them in a pocket before rubbing his hands fast against each other.

“He was right, though. Fuckin’ packed in here,” Miska muttered.

Though the establishment had only a small bar, it was shoulder-to-shoulder busy. The crowd wasn’t quite the type to be looking for a warm drink in the middle of a cold night, as their attire suggested they were men and women just getting off their eight-to-six desk jobs. Miska shivered even as he waded through them all, following Beth to the one table still available. Though the seats and table all were considerably well-used, another holographic plaque hung centered above them all, listing the name of their party. Beth tapped her phone to it, dissipating it with a nary a flicker.

In the next few minutes, she hoisted a neatly filled pint, her thumb wrapped over the top of the handle. Her sleeves were rolled up and her shirt unbuttoned, all lab coats off for the night. She raised her voice and said, “To the vagina, and to Tharta to being the one who had to work on it. Seriously, why the fuck does it have a pussy?”

Miska’s fist was pressed firmly into his cheek, leaning heavy onto the table. He kept one hand on his drink, but neglected raising it. Jaw bobbing beside his hand, he said, “You think it’d be less creepy if we made a giant barbie doll?”

“You’re a sick one,” Beth said, still gesturing with her pint. “You’re the saddest, perviest little man I know.”

Both a high-pitched chuckle and a quieter snicker came from next to Beth. Abdul and Faris, respectively, were seated beside her, and they were the only ones who offered a laugh.

Miska leaned back up. He sighed, “Okay, one: it’s not really a human body if it doesn’t have gentials. Two: I’m really not little.”

“You really are,” Beth said, taking a swig.

Naseen and Reggie sat beside Miska. Most of Naseen’s attention was focused on her own holo tablet, fiddling around on the device’s physical buttons, but still she grinned and said, “Only compared to you, Bethany.”

Beth set her glass on the table with a thud and a minor spill, staring straight-faced at Naseen. “You keep your mouth shut or you’re not even getting some dumbass soda tonight.”

Naseen raised both her hands palms up, her tablet’s projection swerving to reveal only news sites, before shrugging as she turned her attention back to it.

“We could actually talk about something other than work tonight,” Miska yawned. “Lighten some of this goddamn pressure from the demo prep. Seriously, I want to forget all about our shit tonight.”

Reggie was chugging a beer of his own even as his coworker spoke. Miska glanced aside at him, still chugging, and he pointed a finger in Reggie’s direction while facing the others. “That. Let’s all get as plastered as him tonight.”

Reggie set his half-empty mug back onto the table with a clatter, raising his bundled hand over his mouth before burping. He gave a clean, nearly bleached smile and said, “Catch up at your own risk.”

“At least Tharta’s not the bar type,” Faris joined, leaning forward as he stretched his arms behind his back. “Say what you want about him—I know he’s genius, but he’s very weird. Giving the quiet treatment to Miska today, too. I think he was mad.”

“Even the program’s a better engineer than your dumb ass,” Beth said, swinging a slow fist into Faris’s shoulder. She looked next to Miska. “But, I mean, at least I get why he’s so pissed at you. Doesn’t he think the pilot’s already self-aware?”

The expressions of everyone else at the table contorted wider, Abdul nearly choking on his drink. He set it down and said, the only accent in his voice a twinge of Londoner, “Damn, I didn’t hear that.”

“I did,” Beth said.

“She’s not,” Miska said, staring back at her even as he rubbed his neck. “If Tharta told you that, sounds like it’s his idea of a joke. He’s mad that I’m not letting him make the pilot himself.”

“What do you mean, ‘she’?” Beth scoffed. “Did I just catch a slip-up? Programs decide what to identify as after they’re sentient.”

Faris leaned his chin into his open palm and said, “I bet Miska’s just crossing his fingers. You a digital kind of guy, Miska?”

Miska scoffed, “Until it decides what the hell it is, I’m calling it a she, okay? She’s going to be a person soon, I don’t want to call her an it.”

“This is going to be dumb if it decides it wants to be a guy,” Faris said. “Can’t really be a guy with a pussy.”

“Don’t be such a transphobe,” Abdul scolded. Faris rolled his eyes.

“Every sentient program in the world would give anything to be the pilot, and they wouldn’t care how they fuck. They don’t care about sex organ preference at all,” Miska said.

Reggie raised his glass to his lips even as he said, “Then, that’s what’s got Tharta so tiffed? Stahl wants an online thing with the online thing?”

“You’re a prick,” Miska said, the prick grinning back at him before swigging. “And seriously, who said the pilot’s sentient already? That’s not funny shit to me.”

Beth took the pitcher at the center of the table and refilled her glass, glancing back to Miska as she poured. “Yeah, of course it was Tharta. I don’t have him any solids to do. Come on, though; why’d he turn gossip all of the sudden?”

Faris chirped, “Tell us, Miska.”

Miska drew one of his hands down his face, sliding past his cheek while he sighed. “I don’t know. It’s hard for a human and a program to work together to create another program, you know? We feel like there should be different priorities for her base.”

Naseen set down her tablet and prodded Miska in the shoulder. “Keep going.”

Everyone at the table was now paying attention to Miska, despite a couple of raised beers. Miska pushed back into his chair, leaving only one hand on his own drink. He frowned as he said, “Just a different idea of who we think she should be. Hard to work out. Nothing else.”

“We were waiting for you to explain how you differ there,” Beth said. “You’re leaving a lot to the gutter of our imaginations. My imagination. I have a healthy—”

Miska slapped both his hands on the table. He glared straight back to Beth and said, flat as he could, “I put up with Tharta’s bullshit every day, and I sure as hell deal with enough dumb fucks already without trying to hook up with a program. You want to keep talking about this, I’m gone.”

There was a pause from everyone as a rush of heat warmed Miska’s cheeks. Abdul leaned back as he crossed his arms, frowning. “What’s wrong with programs, then?”

Even as Miska grew all the redder, Naseen lowered her soda and patted him on the shoulder. “Calm down, boy. She’ll leave you alone, okay?”

“Just making sure the mood isn’t boring,” Beth said, grinning something genuine for the first time all day. “Clearly cybersex isn’t for everybody. Honestly, Miska? We all know what the bot’s pussy is really for.”

Miska shoved his chair back and grabbed his coat just as quickly. “I’m out. I’m done.”

Naseen patted his wrist, what little of him she could reach. “Miska, come on, she’ll leave you alone. It’s freezing out there.”

He pulled his coat over his arms and slipped his first glove onto the wrong hand at first. Despite the ongoing rush in his cheeks, he glanced around the table to all but Beth, saluting a two-finger wave at the others. Beth raised her pint to him anyway, still grinning. “See you tomorrow, boss.”

Miska just gave her a one-finger salute.

Transponyism

3: They Only Care About One Thing

Twilight packed her saddlebags full of relevant notes again, though not so fast as the first visit. Her lab was tidier by now, nearly untouched since yesterday. Each book was in its place. Scrolls of constant importance that hung upon the walls were obsessively straight, though they had always been as such.

Her neck was slouched just a little. She glanced at the title of everything she put in her bags, sliding each next to the rest in single file. Her horn glowed, though not from particular concentration, and she lifted her saddlebags over her back.

She looked around the rest of her room, her face turning around toward shelves and tomes that she didn’t care about anymore, until her gaze set upon the Source. She looked it over for a moment, but just frowned a little.

With a flash and a magical poof, Twilight teleported into the chamber adjacent to hers. She bellowed, “Spi—!”

Spike was curled up in front one of his blackboards, a nubby stick of chalk almost fallen out from his grip, his head bobbing over his arm as he napped. Though even as an older dragon he still looked young and adorable, Twilight’s utterance didn’t wake him over his own obnoxious snores.

Twilight sighed. She glanced up at her number one’s writings, though there were only mathematical symbols scrawled over the board. Notations explaining only a few of them were scribbled in the margins. It was a cute sight; a grin escaped Twilight’s face. Her horn glowed once more and she poofed away, leaving Spike’s snooze ongoing.

She popped back into her own lab and strode to the doors, pulling them open as she neared. Teleporting took nothing out of her anymore, but she knew by early experience that it was a poor way to make introductions to the Equestrian Panel—

“Chairpony!” Twilight yelped, a weak smile spreading across her face in an instant. Her guest was waiting for her right in front of the doors. “Ah—welcome to Haylo Castle! I named it myself. It’s, uh… it’s named appropriately, I assure you.”

“Still hard to believe,” the chairpony said, grinning something nicer. His eyes had a coy sparkle to them, but Twilight barely made a glance at them. “Not that I don’t. I know you’re fully capable of it. This place has been through a lot now, eh?”

The unicorn held himself tall and easy, though his age showed through his body. The color had long dried out from his mane, but it was trimmed into several neat braids, all of those tied to a central one leading to his back.

Twilight perked up just a bit, focusing on her routine. She bowed her head and said, “I know how important your time is, Chairpony Ronnel, so I really wanted to thank you for coming to see me so soon.”

Ronnel lifted a hoof and waved her off, scoffing wide. “It’s no trouble for me, Sparkle. I can still get around. How have you been holding up all the way up here, now? I should have visited sooner. It’s been too long, it has.”

“I’ve been fine,” Twilight said. “It took some time getting used to being around so little, but it’s been helpful.”

“Your friends haven’t missed you? Though I’d imagine they’ve already come up to see you.”

Twilight kept smiling, but her desire to left. “I guess I’ve been a little too busy with my research to see them much.”

“Lone pony, I see. No harm in that,” Ronnel said. “Some ponies just work better like that.”

He thumped Twilight once on the shoulder, smiling. She grinned a little more genuinely back at him, settling back into a more comfortable state, and stood up straighter. She said, “Spike’s been doing great, too. He’s gotten really far on his own projects.”

Ronnel nodded. “Oh, I’m aware. I’ve been keeping tabs on him, as well.”

“Oh,” Twilight said. Nothing else occurred to her to say. “That’s… that’s good.”

Ronnel grinned bigger, his beard accentuating the gesture. “I didn’t mean to sound ominous, Sparkle. He’s a good fellow, and I’m glad that at least he’s up here to keep you company. Even lone ponies need a little company sometimes.”

A mighty flushing feeling came over Twilight’s face, and she giggled in a higher pitch than she meant to. Ronnel cocked his brow at her. She waved a hoof aloof at him, saying, “Ominous? Oh, no, ha, that’s not what I was getting at. Never mind! I think we both confused each other.”

Ronnel tapped her on the shoulder again, this time looking her in the eyes. “I understand how important this is to you personally, Sparkle. We can continue past the small talk and get down to business, if you’d prefer that. Get down to magic. Hmm?”

“I guess I was a little more prepared for that,” Twilight said, curbing her uncomfortable giggles.

Ronnel cleared his throat and straightened up a bit, his expression turning to a look more of discern. He said, “Now, let me start with the elephant in the room. I understand Princess Luna’s concerns very well, but I’m not here to talk about Rainbow Dash. The princess is still a little upset, but let me say, just to reassure you, that I don’t really share her views currently. I just want to know what you’re up to here.”

“Well, of course I understand her concerns—and yours, chairpony—but Rainbow Dash has been—”

“Now, Sparkle,” Ronnel interrupted, “there’s no need to defend her now. I’m on your side. We’re talking about your even bigger experiment right now, however. So, everything you were going to tell Princess Luna, your notes, your speeches, whatever you had planned, you tell all that to me instead. I’m going to get it to the right ears, you believe that. She’ll get a balanced say on it. No need to just write her.”

Twilight’s gaze opened wider, an accidental wonder shining through as she said, “You mean—I mean, of course you mean—but, Princess Celestia?”

Ronnel smiled bigger, his beard accentuating the gesture. “She might need to see it herself, isn’t that right? That’s what I’m here for. This is important business.”

Twilight straightened up and stepped aside, turning on her hooves before raising one in a wide gesture toward the black cube. Her grin was bright. Her tone changed instantly as she announced, “Well, that’s it: that’s the Source!”

Ronnel stepped around her and narrowed his eyes. He tightened his smile as well, peering more seriously than before while he studied the cube up and down.

“Odd look to it,” he said, tugging gently on his chin whiskers.

Torchlight shown the Source clearly, but no light reflected off of it. The edges were only visible when looking at its sides exactly, something Ronnel seemed to notice as he stepped further into the room.

“I just kind of liked the way that looked,” Twilight said, trotting up behind him. “I’ve been perfecting its design ever since I first got up here, and now it’s powering almost all the magic in Haylo Castle. The air shield, the gravity, and the tree growth.”

Ronnel stopped at the corner of the Source, stroking his beard again. “How does it actually work?”

“Well, to put it simply—and really, even the complex version is pretty simple—it’s mostly liquid crystals inside. I had to alter a few classic spells to do it, but the crystals draw in magic on their own, then channel another spell that connects directly to ponies, regardless of whether or not the ponies have horns. The black part is just a magical barrier keeping the crystals inside.”

Ronnel kept stroking, but his smile faded a bit as he listened. “Liquid, though. Why aren’t the crystals solid?”

Twilight blushed. “They seem to conduct magic better in a melted state. I discovered that by accident, but… it worked out in the end.”

“I see,” Ronnel said, turning back to his host. “But magic isn’t physical, Sparkle. You can’t just store it in a box.”

“That’s the more complex version,” Twilight explained. “You’re right: the spell that the crystals are using is just something to access magic the same way unicorn ponies do. I only needed to jumpstart it. The Source then uses that available magic to cast the desired spells of anypony it’s connected to, limited only to what spells those ponies know. This is just a prototype, too—as I keep improving the design, it will have enough magic available for everypony.”

“Everypony,” Ronnel repeated. “That’s sure something to consider.”

“That’s the entire reason for it,” Twilight said. “Just imagine what ponykind could accomplish if everypony had the same kind of abilities as you and I. Won't it be amazing once we teach them?”

“You didn’t get this far with Princess Luna, I take it?” Ronnel asked.

Twilight simpered down, any reminders of yesterday still bitter. She shook her head and said, “Not exactly. That’s what I had been getting to next, when, you know…”

“Indeed,” Ronnel said, closing his eyes as he nodded. “While we all love the princess very much, she still carries a lot of stress on her shoulders. The Nightmare Moon—ah—incident, that was a difficult phase for her. She doesn’t much let it show, but it still takes its toll on her. Alas, she’s fragile and immature still. Unstable, even.”

He clutched a hoof to his forehead, sighing. “I shouldn’t be going off like that on our dear princess. Let what I just said rest. However, such problems are why we have the good Princess Celestia watching over us all, hmm? No such problems after all.”

“Of course,” Twilight said immediately. “But Princess Celestia carries a large burden, too, I’m sure! And I’m sure the Source will be able to ease that for her, if she approves of it after all.”

Ronnel lowered his hoof and turned around, gesturing toward the door with his head. “Let’s walk and talk, Sparkle.”

The ponies left the laboratory and trotted down the halls, their hoofsteps echoing loud back around to them from each end. Ronnel kept his gaze mostly forward as he kept speaking, but punctuated the occasional glance aside into his speech. “Obviously it’s the panel’s job to make sure relevant news reaches the princess’s ear, Sparkle. That’s my job. The other panel ponies, though, I’ll admit they’re all a little more stuck in the mud than I. Not only am I the first northpony, but the first male elected Chairpony of the Equestrian Panel. Progress is important to me.”

Twilight nodded at each of his points, and he continued with nary a breath.

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, Sparkle: I’m going to pull hard for your Source. The other panel ponies might not like it, but I’ll do my best to make sure they see its good side. If they can recommend it as well, I’m sure the princess will be mighty pleased to hear more about it. Now, you know that isn’t a guarantee of what’s going to happen—it might still not work out.”

Though Twilight’s ears folded back a little, she nodded with a meek grin. They paused their walk at the end of the hall by the courtyard, Twilight levitating the gates open. Rather than moving forward, Ronnel stayed paused, looking back to Twilight. He said, “I want you to meet me at our Westmanester headquarters in two days, Sparkle. That’s when we’ll decide whether or not you have our support. You won’t be able to see Princess Celestia—she’s far too busy for something so short notice, but the whole panel will be there in case they’ve got more questions. Okay?”

Twilight stared back at him expressionless for just a moment. More scenarios flashed through her mind in a split second, her jaw hanging slightly. Her smile burst forth again as the rest of her face lit up, and she said, “Of course! I’ll be there as long as you need me!”

“Our manor is nestled away a fair bit from the rest of the Canterlot bustle, but near anypony in the city can tell you where it is. We’ll be expecting you about noontime,” Ronnel elaborated. His previous smile had turned more serious throughout his monologue, but he grinned again when seeing the breadth of Twilight’s.

“I’ll be there with plenty of time to spare! Don’t worry, directions are a strong point of mine. I’ll find it!” Twilight squealed.

Ronnel patted her on the shoulder, chuckling. “You’ve still got to be patient, Sparkle. Now, while I really did hope for a tour of your estate here—”

Twilight raised her brow and said, “Oh, we can still—”

“No, no, I still have a lot to do today,” Ronnel interrupted, shaking his head. “I do like what I’ve seen, however. Very nice. Very quiet, though; lonesome. Who else was up here with you again, besides Spike and Miss Dash?”

“It’s, uh, pretty much all for my research,” Twilight said. “It’s us three.”

“Well, well,” Ronnel said, one eyebrow tilted. “You should remember to invite some of your other friends sometime. The other elements, eh? I’m sure you’d all have a grand time up here. Take a little break now and then.”

“I will,” Twilight said, just slightly quieter. “After my work is done, though; I needed this castle for the seclusion it offered. It’s taken a lot of concentration to get this far.”

“Lone pony, indeed. You really are remarkable,” Ronnel said. “Still, I should really be off. It’s been a pleasure, Sparkle.”

“Goodbye, chairpony,” Twilight said, waving an enthusiastic hoof as Ronnel stepped out a bit into the courtyard.

The braided old pony looked up toward Equestria, squinting just slightly. As his horn glowed, so did his eyes nearly as bright; a humming echoed out from his body, and just before he teleported away he looked back to Twilight for a moment. He called out over the increasing vibrations, “Oh, and bring your resurrected friend.”

He nearly shot back to Equestria in the next moment, his vanishment accentuated by a piercing bang. Twilight flinched, but kept waving for a second after he left. She could see the slight streak of light from his path back down, but she soon lost it as it moved just past the clouds.

“That sure didn’t last long,” Rainbow said from behind her. Twilight glanced back around, though her friend was just then flying beside her.

“He invited me to Westmanester,” Twilight said, her eyes bright. “And you too, if you didn’t hear!”

Rainbow touched down next to her, folding her wings back upon landing, and offered a weak grin back. “Yeah, I caught that much.”

“We’ve got to get back to your magic training before that,” Twilight said, already trotting past Rainbow toward the halls. “There are still a lot of spells I want you to practice before the panel meets you, just in case they want to see proof of what you can do!”

“Hey, uh—”

Twilight glanced back just as Rainbow kicked at the ground, scuffing her hoof. Rainbow avoided looking directly at Twilight as she muttered, “What about the part he said before? About the others.”

“Oh,” Twilight said. She paused longer than she felt comfortable, biting back a frown after several seconds. “I guess there’s no reason we can’t visit Ponyville after the meeting in Canterlot before getting back to work.”

“Awesome!” Rainbow said. “It’ll be a long visit, you know. I’ve got a lot to catch up on with everypony down there.”

Twilight smiled at her. “But first—magic.”

-

Miska held his phone up above his lap, staring at its empty menu screen. No calls from Tharta, nor any attempt by his workmates at coaxing him back to drinks. His free hand was still shoved in his pocket, despite his car’s heater set to his personal ambient level.

The thoughts drifting by were various and unrelated, though he still had no buzz to derail the unpleasant ones. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do tonight.

He dropped his phone back into a cup holder and waved his windshield back to life, all the lines of his work lighting up at his gesture. He focused on the partition in the corner again, a small notice in its center explaining that he was now being identified. A moment later, the message closed and a greeting appeared in its place, welcoming Miska as a guest admin. Twilight’s activity log scrolled over the screen next, and Miska stared at it expressionless.

Her life right in front of him, and still he didn’t know what she was ever doing.

Miska sighed, though his mouth stayed shut. Tonight was the first time he had ever had to defend their relationship—not that he had. The consequences of being found out now were obviously too dire to risk revealing it. He would learn to handle it better after Twilight had gotten registered. The onus was still on her, even if he could have done a nicer job of denying his feelings.

The windshield flashed its dull yellow again, as he had been sitting at the front of his condo for several minutes now. Miska shoved his phone back into his pocket and gritted his teeth, pushing open the door just as another gust of wind blew through. He lowered his head, tightened his arms against his sides, and rushed forward as his car drove itself away.

He clutched his coat tighter even as the lobby doors slid closed behind him, sealing off the wind. There was normally no one else ever milling about the lobby besides the concierge or cleaning ladies, people with whom Miska usually made sure not to make eye contact, but tonight there were two strangers in suits waiting just before the elevator hall. They were already watching him approach.

Even if he wanted to avoid all human contact possible tonight, the stairs were also past them. Miska began his way past them, eyes on the floor, but the woman of the pair stepped out from her perch against the wall, blocking the whole way.

“Hi there. You’re Miska Stahl, right? The programmer?”

She was grinning broadly, but her tone was quizzical. Her hair was clipped shorter than that of her comrade, a bulkier man still wearing his sunglasses.

Miska stopped several steps from them, resisting a grimace. He said, “That I am. No autographs.”

The woman took a couple of steps closer to him as she extended her hand. “I’m Agent Marshal, and this is my partner, Agent Conroy.”

Miska took her hand immediately, though only through a slight sense of fear. “Agents?”

“We’re with the F.B.I.,” Marshal continued, shaking firmly before then crossing her arms. “We just dropped by tonight to ask a few questions in private, if you didn’t happen to mind.”

Miska thought better than to actually grin, but still he asked, “So, you’re actually an Agent Marshal?”

“That’s right,” Marshal said gladly. “And we’re here because of a report that your smart program project has already given itself a name. And seriously, Twilight?”

Miska frowned a little despite himself, settling both his hands back into his pockets.

“All right, that’s great,” Marshal continued, her gaze square on Miska’s. “I’m glad we could both get that out of our systems. Now, obviously the program is the reason we’re here. I’m sure you’d rather us talk about this in private, right?”

She tilted her head toward the front desk, glancing briefly at the man behind it who could only pretend not to be able to hear them plainly. Miska turned around, finding the concierge barely even trying to look like he was checking his terminal. The man couldn’t keep from stealing glances.

Facing Marshal again, Miska raised one hand and offered it palm-up toward the elevators. “Yeah, come on up. I’m sure you know me—I love cooperating with the government.”

Marshal grinned wider for a moment in response, her partner already bustling over to the call buttons. As their ride descended and the doors opened, Marshal gestured chivalrously for Miska to enter first. By then, his hands were entrenched back in his coat pockets. Marshal and Conroy entered after him, taking their places at his either side. Both of them folded their hands over their jackets, arms nearly straight.

Miska pressed the button to his floor as Marshal glanced aside at him. As the doors slid shut, she asked, “Also, do you have a coffee maker? Doesn’t really matter. Just wondering.”