Promethea: Ponified

Promethea
Weapon for Liberty

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 5

A past Promethea arrives,
A symbolic landscape explored,
A spiritual journey begins.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ypres, 1915:

Eyes that could not see stared out at the small patch of roses sitting very plainly in the field of war. They alone had been left unscathed in the blackened fields of the battles fought there. The body of the stallion lay near them, stuck in a cluster of barbed wires. His blood left a darker crimson stain on the ruby petals of the roses, and they had been his last sight in the world. He had almost been able to drag himself out of the wire and to the trench mere feet away from where his corpse now was. There was only one pony left in the trench, and at the moment he wished he wasn't

"Hello? Hello, lads? Come on, who's awake?"

Deep Waters looked around the trench at the limp figures lying near him. He was painfully trying to keep himself oblivious to the fact that he was the only one alive there, and he quietly joked to himself more than the bodies around him. He gripped his rifle tensely, listening to the sound of gunfire rattle off from a distance. He thought of the paint dripping down his leg, no longer the cutie mark he'd painted on the day before he'd left his mother and sister to fight in the War. There was nothing he'd had to cover up, and when he'd given his name he'd used a false one to match the false mark.

And so Sure Shot was accepted into the Equestrian Military forces, and left to fight in the trenches of one peaceful Griffon countries like Ypres. Now that he was there, though, he realized that he'd been very selfish to leave his mother waiting for him to come home. He could not handle knowing that he would not see her again, and looked around for something to draw his attention. His gaze ended up falling on one of the bodies of his fallen comrades, and he attempted to keep himself busy enough to avoid the inevitable truth.

"Come on, you lazy buggers."

No answer.

"Hairy? Chalky? Come on, wake up and I'll make us a cup of tea, how's that?"

Silence. Deep Waters turned to another colt, and saw the remains of his jaw hanging off his face. There were already flies gathering around his body, but he blocked them out.

"Lads?"

Nothing. He was alone.

Deep Waters began to sob, and reached into one of his uniform pockets. He drew out a picture of a slender young mare, leaning back in a jokingly prolific pose. Her hair cascaded across her chest, and though it was in reality a deep and vivid blue, it appeared dull and gray in the photo. Deep Waters stared at her, and after a moment said deliriously, "Oh Celestia. Oh Celestia, Sissy. I'm in a mess. I'm so sorry, Sissy."

He held the photo to his chest and began to cry. He continued to speak through his tears.

"I wish I hadn't left you and Mum, Sissy. I wish I hadn't been so uncaring; I should have listened to Mum. But now..." He paused, hesitant to let the truth escape his lips. Then he broke, and the words came cascading from his lips as quickly as his tears did. "...Now I'm done for, Sissy. I'm going to die, and so is everypony else out here. Oh Celestia, Sissy, how did I get into this? We're all done for."

He lowered his head to look at the photograph, his vision blurred by the tears that warmed his cheeks against the cold, uncaring night. Then, without warning, it appeared as though the photograph spoke to him.

"No. God's Universe is not itself unkind. There is love, and there is comfort..."

Deep Waters looked up at the angel before him.

"...and soft, sweet wings that gather up the fallen."

She held in one hoof a staff, which glowed brightly in the darkness before dawn broke. In the other she held a shield, engraved with markings that he could tell were Greek. Her head was adorned with a helmet of war, and from it cascaded a dark wave of blue that reminded Deep Waters intensely of his sister. A cloth wrapped around her body, and as she floated down to the trench it billowed like a veil, though there was no wind to move it. There was a solemn look on her face, and she moved next to him.

"You're brave friends are dead. I've come to take you home."

Deep Waters stared silently at the angel as she moved down to his hind legs, where an open gash resided on his right hoof. He felt no pain as she handled it with a gentle touch, and he felt a sudden gloom set over him.

"I--I've gone on already, haven't I? I'm dead, and you're an angel. I--I've heard of chaps who've seen 'em..."

She smiled gently, and shook her head. "You're not dead," she said, using pieces of her endless cloth to bandage his wound, "but your foot is wounded and infected. We must get you to safety, swiftly."

Her touch was gentle, and Waters felt calmed by the smile she gave him when she looked up from her work. "And I'm not an angel. Not exactly. My name's Promethea." She stood up on her hind legs, and asked, "Can you stand?"

The colt got to his feet. "Y-Yes, if you'll help me." He was stunned, and as the two made their way up the trench he said, "I...I can't place your voice. Sometimes you sound like a Hayrab, and sometimes like a Yank."

She held onto him as he limped onward, and replied, "I'm a little of both."

The angel looked out at the dying soldiers around them, and Deep Waters could see tears forming in her glowing eyes. "Dear, Gracious Gods. All of these stinking holes full of corpses. Foals, like you..."

He did not know how she knew he was underage, and at the moment it did not bother him. "W-We're colts. I'm eighteen." He looked guiltily down at the blackened ground, and added "Well, almost..." He looked back at the angel, and said, "We're doing this for our country. A-And God's with us. I mean, isn't he?" He knew he had mistakenly used the word the angel used instead of Celestia, but he didn't correct himself, and neither did she. "You'd know, wouldn't you? This is what God wants, isn't it?"

She glanced at her staff to see if it was floating with her, and looked back to the horizon, where the sun was beginning to show its face. She shook her head, and said, "No. This is what God's trying to help us up from." She gripped him, to make sure he did not fall from her grip, and comforted him with her words:

"Come with me. We have long, dark miles to tread before dawn..."

-------

"...and according to the soldier, she said, "Come with me. We have long, dark miles to tread before dawn."

Spike shut the book he had been reading from, and looked up at Rainbow Dash, who was staring intently at the picture of the soldier. He and Dash were discussing the history of Promethea as much as they could during their passing periods, and they hastily stepped off the escalator as they reached their floor. He continued to talk as he put the book away into his knapsack.

"Then she helps him back behind his own lines. I've read a lot of similar accounts, but this one is the most detailed..."

Rainbow Dash pulled a book from her saddlebags and held it with her wings as she and Spike made their way along the hallway. "Yeah," she said, looking at the cover of her own book intently. "Jeez, Spike, this Promethea stuff. When you look at how much there is about her..." She glanced at her overstuffed book bag uneasily. "I mean, it's sort of creepy."

She gestured to the papers she'd found at the library earlier that day. "All this stuff I found on the Net, like some woman at a church service who suddenly started testifying, beginning, "I am Promethea..." She showed Spike the cover of the book she'd been staring at. "Then there's this Womanly Hearts book, which we actually had in the library here at college."

Spike looked at the pale pink cover nonchalantly, then noticed a pony staring at them from across the hall. He recognized her as Sweetie Belle, and when he waved to her she started and galloped away without saying anything. As she rounded the corner and disappeared, Spike recalled the words of the figment he'd conversed with only yesterday. Oh. That explains it. Audibly, he blurted, "Shit."

Rainbow Dash looked over at him, surprised. She pulled the book away from him, and said, "Humph! Well, jeez, I didn't know you hated pink books."

Spike shook his head, angry at his mistake. "No. No, that's not what it was." He looked up, and then back down when he saw Dash's accusing look. "Womanly Hearts. Who's that?"

Dash opened up the book and said, "She's this Prench chick who wrote this book, "The Book of Promethea," and it's translated from Prench by somepony called Rosetta Stone. It's sort of like the book conjures this ideal lover, this imaginary goddess." She opened the book with her wings. "Here, listen to this...

"First of all, Promethea is a woman. I can describe her as such and I will do so. It will be hard because she has a simplicity that defies description. But at the same time she is a heroine of infinity."

Dash shut the book and looked over at Spike, who was staring off into space. "Sound like anypony we know?" she said with a grin.

Spike blinked slowly, then looked down at Rainbow Dash's book, which had been put back in its saddlebag. "Wow. That's beautiful. And this is a mare writing this?"

Dash flipped her hair back and looked over at him. "Well, like, yeah. I mean, the author happens to be a lesbian. But, like, so what?" She threw up a hoof to make a point, and stared Spike down accusingly again. "I mean, Luna, this is 1999! You know, Spike, sometimes you can be real homophobic!" She waited for an answer, smirking.

Spike tried to process what she was saying, but two and two didn't add up in his head. "Huh?" he asked. "I thought I was an enormous homo..."

Dash laughed, and said, "Nah, that's Rarity's thing!" She giggled and didn't notice his eye twitch. "You're just an enormous homophobic lady-killer wannabe jerky-jerk." She laughed at his annoyed blush, and changed pace as they made their way towards their next class. "Anyway, I'm taking this book home just out of curiosity, so you better not make fun of me."

Now it was Spike's turn to laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You hate reading. Especially all that dirty Daring Do fan-fiction." He savored the appalled look on Rainbow Dash's face at the mention of one of the few secrets they shared that both of them had promised not to tell anypony else about. She looked ready to slap him, and had her hoof raised when she saw their Ancient History professor staring them down.

"You got off lucky this time, jerk," she whispered in his ear as they entered the classroom. They found seats near the back of the class, and Spike smirked at Rainbow Dash's flushed face. "Maybe I am. But enough of that. I just wish Rarity had at least taken something with her before she stormed off like that."

Dash sighed, relieved that their previous topic had been dropped. "Yeah, well, you heard her. She was tired of Promethea, and when Rarity gets tired of something..." She made a tossing motion with her hoof. "...in the trash it goes. Just like-"

"Miss Dash!" The pegasus jumped at the mention of her name, and she pulled her textbook out at the sight of her professor giving her a dangerous look. She saw that Spike had already done so, and whispered, "Asshole," before they began the professor began his lecture for the day.

-------

Rarity was exhausted. She could feel it in her bones and saw it in her eyes every time she looked in the mirror. She wanted nothing more than to enjoy a romance novel while sipping a cup of tea, wearing her most comfortable and soft robe and sitting in her favorite squishy armchair. But that was not going to happen, and the thought of how easy it would be to drop everything and obey her pleasurable desires made her groan.

There had been work. More work than she'd hoped for. Coming back to the Carousel Boutique, Rarity found that Hoity Toity had left an order for her. The number of zeroes on the dress quantity list had made her despair the hours that would follow, but the sight of the number of zeroes on her up-front pay check had given her the strength to accomplish the large orders. For the third time that day she wished that Spike did not have college, and she was lost in a flurry of cloths, gemstones, and pins until she had completed her dresses. She sighed in relief as the last gemstone fell into place, and set the dresses into her storage area before she collapsed into a chair, panting and sweating. She looked over at her clock, and saw that she'd spent 10 hours on the dresses. Good lord, she thought. My whole day, gone. At least I have enough time to shower before I can meet Spike at the University so we can get to the bottom of this Promethea issue.

She had just begun trotting up the stairs when a buzz on her wall informed her that somepony was Wall-Calling™ her (Wall-Call™- Call from home anywhere!). She leaned against the banister, groaned, and eventually mumbled, "Yes, yes, answer it."

The face of a colt Rarity did not know appeared in the center of the room. The image flicked around to where she was facing, and the colt smiled at her. "Rarity Seamstone?" She nodded heavily.

"I’m from the South Tower Hospital. There's a patient here under the name Zecora who knows you, and..." He looked uneasily off screen, and continued hesitantly. "Well, you should come right away."

Rarity shot up, her exhaustion pushed aside for the moment by a sudden rush of fear-filled adrenaline. "Oh Celestia. Zecora." Without saying anything to the head of the colt floating in the middle of her room, she shot down the stairs and shut off her lights. The Wall-Call™ shut off as well, and Rarity hastily locked her store and set of for the South Tower Hospital.

She burst through the doors of the hospital several minutes later (thanks to a rather shaken-up cab driver whose friend and colleague had committed suicide the previous night), and immediately asked the mare at the head desk where to find Zecora. She galloped through the halls of the hospital, and stopped short to thank the colt who had called her as she passed him by.

When she rounded the next corner, she sighed with relief when she caught sight of the elevator doors ahead. She passed by room after room, and didn't slow down when Cranky D. Donkey poked his head out from one of them. He seemed to recognize her, and called to her as she passed.

"Hey! Hey, I know you! We saw you last night! A-And that woman who was here earlier! She's got something to do with you..."

Rarity looked at him as she went, knowing fully well who he was talking about. "What?" she said, pretending she had not heard. "Look, I am here to see my friend. She's sick. I have to go..." And she rushed on.

"Yes..." Cranky watched her go, confused at the thoughts rocketing around his skull. "Yes, that's pretty much what she said."

-------

Rarity stepped into Zecora's room, and gasped at the sight of the dying zebra. She was pale, her gray coat now ghostly and kept noticeable by her black stripes. All of her golden rings had been removed, and Rarity tried not to stare at the strange sight that was her bare neck. Zecora was covered with a white sheet, and her eyes opened very slowly when she heard the unicorn enter.

"Oh Celestia. Z-Zecora? What's wrong?" She trotted next to her C.A.R.E. Pod, and the grin on the zebra's face scared her.

"Complications, my friend," she said, her voice weak and barely understood. "It seems I'm close to the end. That son-of-a-bitch Smee got to me." She chuckled, and Rarity was amazed that she could keep up her rhyme, even if she used a more modern term in it.

She moved closer to the Pod and leaned over, trying to comfort Zecora with a smile. "Listen to me, Zecora. You're going to be okay..."

"Jackal Faust doesn't think so, and neither do I. I saw him tell you that I was going to die. I watched your confrontation with the other Prometheas behind me. We-"

Rarity interrupted her, falling into a chair as she said, "Other Prometheas? Zecora, if you were watching, then you must have heard what Faust said, about Promethea..."

Zecora nodded weakly. "... ending the world. You need not worry about Faust, dear girl. Promethea is not going to end our world. He was messing with your head, as magicians do. There are worse things to worry about, things coming for you." She reached out and took Rarity's hoof in hers. "Benneigh Solomon is coming your way, with an entire army of demons at his command. Once he gets here, he'll turn you into sand. The Immateria is your only way. You have to go, to get away. To learn to deal with what's in store. The others can teach you more."

Rarity couldn't hear her. The world around her was spiraling, and blue swirls were filling her vision. She was slipping, falling into a void she couldn't describe. The only thing that connected her to the world was the hoof holding hers, and yet it seemed to be the cause of her sudden detachment. Through the fog she heard Zecora's voice, distant and dream-like.

"Yes. You just have to let go of reality. This is what Jack Faust did, no? The Laying On Of Hands? Just let go. You're almost there. You're almost..."

She was gone.

Rarity blinked slowly. She was sitting on a stone head, looking out at a fallen temple under a radiant red sky. A stone hand leaned against the head. Next to the stone figures lay a river of some unknown pink liquid that ran down to a reservoir, where purple bushes buzzed with the sound of bees that pollinated enormous roses. Bits of dandelions glided through the breeze that passed through the scenery, and as Rarity watched them float by she saw that they weren't bits of dandelion fluff, but actually bubbles. It was at that moment that Rarity realized she was going insane.

"Oh Celestia. Celestia, it's different every time." She held her head in her hooves and shook it violently. "Okay, I'm imagining this. I am sitting in the hospital right now, imagining this..." She looked up, half expecting to be back in Zecora's room. Instead, she found herself hearing voices behind her.

"Debatable."

"Debatable? Why, it's practically intractable!"

Looking up, Rarity saw two birds floating down towards her, cawing out what sounded like words, though garbled and almost indiscernible. No, she thought, looking at their heads more closely. Not birds.

"She's clearly sitting here, imagining a hospital, yet she claims the complete reverse!"

"I agree! It's worse than intractable! It's unfalsifiable!"

One of the creatures landed on the index finger of the broken hand, and the other rested on the ring finger. Rarity saw that they were indeed something other than birds, and backed away a bit at the sight of their heads. Though their bodies were bird-like, their heads were that of humans, and aged ones at that. The creatures smiled down at her with crooked, broken smiles, and Rarity felt slightly disoriented as one cawed and the other said:

"In fact, it's very near ineffable!"

Rarity took a step away, and found the edge of the stone head. "Wh-What are you?" She asked, and one of the creatures flew down to her.

"We are supreme deities of the cosmos!" said the one atop the stone head. The other flapped down and landed on the stone head's eye, and said, "We can prove it! We have lovely numbers, and we talk back to front!" He looked up at her questioningly. "Do you have anything to trade?"

Rarity blinked. She'd forgotten why she was there. Or how she was there. Or where exactly "there" was. Wasn't “there” a relative term, after all? She stammered, "T-Trade? I--I don't remember. Is that why I came here...?"

The creature grinned up at her, showing off its broken set of teeth. "Of course it is! You must recall, we made arrangements with your aunt. All the important balloons were truncated. Hurry up and decide! It's impeccative!" The bird-like creature smiled up at her, and she was about to answer when another voice rang out from in front of her.

"Vermin, be gone! I'll not have Pandeliriums in this place!"

The creatures head turned, and it cawed questioningly. In front of them was Promethea. Or at least what Rarity thought was Promethea. She wore nothing, and a cloth floated around her radiant sky blue body. Her mane flowed from her helmet like a waterfall, a blue color that melted into her coat with ease. Around her crackled a fierce blue energy, and she spoke in a demanding and strong-willed voice.

"I think you heard me. Leave, or burn!"

The Pandeliriums had seen enough. Frightened, they cawed, and flew away to leave Rarity with the strange impression that she'd forgotten something. She looked over at the Promethea in front of her, and said, "Good lord. What we're they?"

The mare watched he creatures fly away. "The Pandeliriums? On, they're just distractions. Gibberish, fluttering thoughts to lead the mind astray. You have to be stern with them. I'm Margaret, by the way. You must be Rarity."

Rarity nodded, and slid down the stone head to the ground below, and stepped onto the path that stretched endlessly in the direction of the horizon. "Er, yes. Rarity Seamstone. I guess you're here to meet me because..." She trailed off, not quite knowing the answer.

Margaret floated ahead down the path, never touching the ground. "...because I'm the one who you thought about most recently. Yes. The rules are surprisingly simple, once you know them." She gestured down the path, and waited or Rarity to catch up to her. "I'm glad you came, Rarity. You need counseling. You need advice."

Rarity trotted down a long set of stone steps. Watching her hooves to see that they landed where they were supposed to, she said, "Yes, that's what Zecora said." She looked up at Margaret. "Okay, firstly, I am sitting in a hospital imagining this conversation, right?"

Margaret smiled as she floated down beside Rarity. "Well, yes. Your body is sitting in a physical location, and this is all in the imagination. Not your imagination, though. The imagination."

Rarity did a double take. "'The imagination?' You make it sound as if there's only one of them."

"There is. There's a material world, and there's an immaterial world. Both worlds exist, but in different ways. For example, chairs exist. So do the ideas of chairs."

"Yes, but... well... everypony's imagination-"

Margaret cut her off. "Dear, please, try to use everybody from now on. You'll find that there are far more sentient beings in all the worlds than ponies."

Rarity shrugged. "Fine. Everybody's imaginations are separate, aren't they? I mean, everyone has their own private mental space..."

Margaret nodded as they passed several chairs growing out of the ground. "Of course they do. Just like their own house is their own private physical space. But the territory outdoors belongs to everyone."

Rarity pondered her words. "But if your mind behaved as though it were a place, then every time anypony- anyone, sorry- followed a trail of thought..."

"...they'd be walking a pathway in the Immateria. Ponies are amphibious, Rarity. That means they live in two worlds at once: Matter and Mind..."

They passed the stone path, and walked through a blue-grass field. Rarity looked up at an enormous rock formation shaped like a cone, with green, flowery ice cream atop it. Margaret continued, and Rarity listened as she observed the scenery.

"Yet many people only notice the solid world they have been conditioned to think of as real..." She gestured to the world around them. "...While all about them diamond glaciers creak and star-volcanoes thunder."

Rarity looked at her strangely. "But what about ideas? Why do some ponies have better ideas than others?"

Margaret turned to her. "People, dear. Try to be more general. Have you ever wondered why ponies have cutie marks? Have you ever wondered how those three diamonds came to adorn your flank?" She watched Rarity look down at her cutie mark, and shook her head. "It's because pony-kind is the most in touch with imagination. Cutie marks are the small bits of immaterial soul that latches onto a pony when they find the skill that brings them the closest to their own immaterial enlightenment."

She looked out at the Immateria. "Ideas grow like flowers here. Some are common ideas, found everywhere. But if you want the rarer ideas, the most exotic blossoms, you have to travel further. Artists, scientists, philosophers...They're the pioneers of these territories."

"But you're saying that anybody could explore this place if they wanted to?"

"Yes. That's why Promethea's enemies find her so threatening. It's what she represents."

"What do you mean?"

Margaret looked down at Rarity as they climbed a tall purple hill. "I mean Jackal Faust told you that Promethea was intended to end the world. In a way, he was right."

She gestured out to the world that lay before them. Rarity gasped at the sight. It was the sort of sunset that she had dreamed of countless times, one where she would climb the hill to an expecting lover, a prince or royal of some sort, and be swept up in his hooves and be loved as one could only dream of. She was brought back to herself as Margaret spoke again.

"Promethea makes people more aware of the vast immaterial realm. Maybe tempts them to explore it. Imagine if too many people followed where she led?" She smiled slightly. "It would be like the great Devonian leap, from sea to land. Humanity slithering up the beach, from one element to another. From Matter..." She paused, and swept her hand across the landscape of the romantic scene. "...to Mind."

They began to make their way down the hill, and Rarity listened to Margaret speak as she watched the image of the sunset and perfect meeting fade in her mind, quite literally.

"We have many names for this event. Some call it "The Rapture." We call it "The Opening of the 32nd Path." Your dear Princess Celestia calls it "The Day the Sun Does Not Rise." We call it the Awakening, or the Revelation, or the Apocalypse. But "End of the World" will do."

Rarity blinked at the sound of sarcasm in Margaret's voice when she mentioned "Dear Princess Celestia". Not only did these Promethea-related characters seem to not recognize Princess Celestia's authority, but they seemed to have the utmost disrespect for her. She chose to address the matter at a later time, and instead asked, "Er, but... The end of the world. That's bad, isn't it?" She looked up at Margaret, who was in turn looking out at the scenery before them.

"Is it?" she asked, and Rarity followed her gaze. To her shock, she saw that the world had changed around them. Where blue-purple grasses had once stood were now skulls, piled up and glistening in the now rising sun. In the distance stood flag poles, and she saw that some had dismembered cadavers spiked on them. In the background were symbols, such as the grand flag of Equestria and that of the infamous Neighzi Party, along with a stallion who looked remarkably and frighteningly like Twilight Sparkle's brother, Shining Armor, saluting to nothing in particular while observing the onslaught that occurred in the foreground.

In front of the two stood what appeared to be soldiers. These colt, however, were almost completely covered by their helmets, and the only thing sticking out of them were their legs. The two sides galloped at each other, and Rarity turned away before she could see the inevitable slaughter that would happen. Margaret watched blankly, while her companion shook beneath her.

"'The World' isn't the planet, or the life on it." She grew angrier as the fighting in the distance continued, and Rarity eventually turned to it, covering her mouth at the sight. "The world is our systems, our politics, our economies...our ideas of the world!" She gritted her teeth and pressed a hoof to her chest. "It's our flags and our banknotes and our border wars. I was at Ypres. I was at the Somme." She reached her peak of rage, and in fury burst out.

"I say end this filthy mess now."

Then she calmed herself, and Rarity looked over at her worriedly. She tried to change the subject, and said, "Jackal Faust... H-He said Promethea was her father's dying curse upon humanity..."

Margaret looked depressingly out at the war zone before them. "Curse? Promethea wasn't his curse upon existence." She smiled hopefully. "She was his gift to it.

"Promethea is imagination. What other comfort did the poor boys who died here have?"

Rarity looked over at Margaret, shocked at the truth behind the war field they were looking at: this was Margaret Haylor Case's imaginings of the Great Griffon War. She watched Margaret carefully as the floating half-mare continued.\

"What else, except Woolfred Owen's poems, or the Angel of Mons...

"...or Promethea?"

She flew onward, and Rarity tried to ignore the crunching of skulls under her hooves. As soon as I get back to the real world, I'm going to the spa to get my hooves re-done.

"If you'd heard them," continued Margaret, "all those boys. There was nothing I could do. They were calling for their mothe..." She faltered.

"F-For their muh..."

Tears that glowed a brilliant blue dripped down Margaret's cheeks, and when Rarity put a reassuring hoof on her shoulder she stopped, rubbing her eyes silently.

"Please excuse me. It's silly, really. I was just a cartoonist. My only concerns were my art, my deadlines, and my paycheck. Then Promethea happened to me, and all of a sudden I felt responsible for the problems of the world, for every avoidable disaster and plague. When the Great Griffon War erupted, it felt like a personal failure..."

Rarity looked over at her. "But... Wars simply happen. How is that a failure on your part?"

"Because Promethea is imagination... and because war, all war and conflict, is naught but the failure of imagination."

Margaret gestured up to the sky, and Rarity saw yet another intimidating image. This one was of four humans, each with their own deformities or style, riding four large steeds that could not be called ponies for all the bits in Equestria. Rarity recognized the picture from one of the ancient mythology book that Spike had brought with him when working at her boutique.

"The Four Horsemen don't cause the Apocalypse," Margaret explained. "After all, they've been riding for centuries, hanging over our heads. They merely symbolize what life on Earth is already like. They show us why we need an Apocalypse. Ponies and other species alike must imagine a way to rise above the perilous material situation that they have created. That's why Promethea is necessary."

Rarity watched as Margaret floated u to an enormous rose growing out of the field of skulls, and said, "What you're saying is that Promethea is the world's ticket to where we are now, the Immateria. And this is, in a way, the Promised Land." She ignored the sounds of gunshots behind her. "So, why are there people trying to kill me?"

Margaret brought the rose down, tensing the stem. "Here, climb onto this." Rarity obliged, and sat down amongst the rose petals. As she did, Margaret explained: "There are some people with a vested interest in keeping the world as it is, because that's the world they have power over. You see, in the Immateria, there's no rent, no tax, no property. There's no real estate, no boundary fences..."

She stepped into the rose, and the stem snapped back up straight. The force of the snap sent the rose flying into the air, and with it the two mares, floating along through the sky.

"...no limits."

They floated along, moving from the red-soaked battlefields to a more relaxed area. Margaret pointed down to several windows below them, and Rarity saw different pictures in them as Margaret spoke:

"It's important that you understand how measureless in power and splendor are the territories which you represent. In truth, the beauties of the solid and material universe are but a part of the rich spectrum of existence."

Rarity looked in the first window, and saw a field of corn leaning in the breeze. In the center of the field was what at first appeared to be a crop circle. After a moment, though, she realized it was a symbol, a circle with a large X through it.

"The one-tenth of an iceberg that is visible above the tideline of reality. Matter is that part of being that has crystallized, where the mind's light has petrified to concrete substance."

The next window was a deep purple, and Rarity saw a crescent moon shining above two figures. Looking closer, she saw that they were lovers, holding each other in a timeless grip of love and romance. What was more, one was a drake, and looked suspiciously like Spike. More disturbing yet, the other appeared to be none other than Rarity's sister, Sweetie Belle. Rarity looked over at Margaret, but the Promethea's face showed no acknowledgement of the couple.

"Beyond substance is imagination, the moonlit realm of dream and fiction, sexual fantasy and the unconscious mind. These Lunar attributes, imagination and romance, are the gem-crusted gateways of the Immateria."

Rarity looked away from the two lovers, gagging slightly at the thought of them together. Weakly, she said, "Just the gateways? I thought that dreams and imagination were, how to say it, 'the whole deal'?"

The window now changed to a bright orange, and when Rarity hesitantly looked over the rose's edge, she saw a symbol that looked familiar. It was a large circle with what appeared to be horns sticking out of the top of it. Beneath it was and arrow, which in turn pointed down to a wall of equations that would confuse even Twilight Sparkle. In the middle of the hailstorm were the forms of two strange creatures. One had the head of an ibis, and one was a man with a winged helmet on. In between them was a single rose.

"No," said Margaret. "They're just the way in. Beyond the Lunar sphere lies the Mercurial domain of intellect and science, of magic and of language. Civilization's most precious gift, communication, has its wellspring here. Still, intellect isn't everything..."

Rarity thought momentarily of Rainbow Dash before saying, "So, the Immateria... It's a map of what's inside people, not just the universe beyond them?"

Margaret nodded, and Rarity looked down at the window beneath them. Now it was a deep emerald, bearing a symbol (♀) that Rarity recognized from a self-help book she'd once bought. The symbol of the female, if I recall. Beneath that was another famous painting that Rarity herself had shown to Spike, who had almost immediately lost interest and headed towards older works. It was a woman standing on an oyster shell, covering herself with the long locks of hair cascading down her back.

"The worlds inside and outside us have the same structure, the same pattern. Journeying beyond even the intellectual idea of shape or form, we next traverse the rich Venusian landscape of emotion."

They continued onward, and the window changed to a brilliant gold. A bright, shining sun shone up from it, and beneath it were crosses standing above the ground. Beneath that were a rich assortment of animals, and Rarity recognized a Cockatrice among them.

"Passing that, even more rarefied, more tenuous even than feelings, love or joy or sorrow, lie the golden, Solar reaches of the living soul. This is the burnished fleck of self within each individual, the highest human plane within the Immateria. Beyond lie the transhuman realms of forces absolute and universal.

Rarity was suddenly rocked violently as the air around them grew stormy. "Whoah! Th-The weather feels like it's getting rougher!"

Red flashes from below made her look down at the window, and she saw that it had changed to a deep, angry red. Underneath another symbol (♂) was a scale, and next to it stood a long, shining sword.

"We're moving through the stern and Martial stratospheres of universal judgment, tilting in the very balance of the cosmos." Margaret gripped Rarity's arm as the rose swayed frantically in the storm. "Hold tight, Rarity. Hold tight..."

Rarity saw dark clouds bearing down on them from above as the world grew dark and stormy. Lightning flashed above them, and Rarity shouted over the fury, "AAA! I'm slipping! Where did all of these rain clouds come from?"

Margaret pointed below, and Rarity hesitantly looked over, careful not to fall off the edge. Lightning illuminated the window, which also glowed blue. Beneath a symbol that looked something like a number 4 (or perhaps a crescent with a 2 in it) were indiscernible shapes that hid behind the clouds that raged about them. Rarity heard Margaret's voice through the storm:

"Past universal judgment are the sheltering, Jupiterian skies of universal mercy, where the gods of storm and lightning play."

Gods of storm and lightning? wondered Rarity. But that's what pegusi are for! They control weather! Before she could point out Margaret's mistake, she felt the rose begin to tip as they headed for something dark and abysmal in the distance. Somehow she managed to hear Margaret's voice as the rose tipped.

"Beyond that is the chasm at the far edge of existence, where..."

The rose flipped over.

"Damn! It's no good. We're tipping over..."

Rarity tried helplessly to grab the rose as it fell, hoping it would somehow keep flying if she flipped it back over. Nothing changed, though, and in a panic she yelled, "Margaret! Margaret, we're falling!"

The immaterial mare shouted to her as she fell down through the clouds. "Don't worry! Remember, this whole journey is through your imagination! You can't be hurt! Your body is-"

Rarity found herself losing consciousness as she slid completely off the rose and fell into the blackness below. She heard Margaret calling to her, but she couldn't hear what she was saying. She let herself sink into the blackness, sure that she would wake up any moment.

"-somewhere

else..."

------

Zecora was asleep when Nurse Redheart walked into the room with her assistant. At the sight of the unconscious form lying on top of the zebra, Redheart momentarily panicked.

"Uh-oh," she said, rushing to the limp form of Rarity and pulling her off of Zecora. "What the hell happened here?" She sat the unicorn up in her chair, and found that while she was alive, she showed no signs of waking up. Her assistant stood for a moment, then said:

"Isn't that the fashion mare who came visiting the zebra earlier today?"

Redheart nodded. "Yes, and she's unconscious. Celestia, I hope it's not that weird infection that's killing Zecora." She gestured over to a strange contraption in the corner of the room. "Get me a Squealchair over here..."

Her assistant nodded, and brought the contraption over. Turning it on, it released an almost silent squeal (hence its name). As he moved it, he said, "Sure. Y'know, this whole Zecora thing is creepy. You see that science heroine who visited her? The Hayrab woman with the snakes?"

"Yeah," said Redheart. She began to pull Rarity off the chair, and found she was heavier than she appeared. "It's the millennium, I guess. Crazy times." She grunted trying to pull Rarity onto the Squealchair. "Help me lift her."

The two nurses pulled Rarity onto the chair and moved her into what they assumed would be a more comfortable position. "There you go," said the assistant. "Boy, she's out like a light. You think she's on dope?"

The question was perfectly normal for anypony living in Ponyville. "Could be," said Nurse Redheart. "We'll stick her in a side-ward downstairs and keep an eye on her." They turned the chair towards the elevator, and made idle chit-chat as they went in.

"Incidentally, you hear any more on the Baskerville case?"

"What, the mayor? Yeah, I saw it on TEXTure how one of his multiple personalities, "Little Sonny," also has multiple personalities. Go figure."

"Man, multiple personalities with multiple personalities. The mind's a peculiar place."

The two nurses stepped out of the elevator and began to push Rarity down the hall towards a side-ward. As they passed a main hallway, they did not notice the donkey staring distantly at the unicorn on the Squealchair.

"...reported seeing The Painted Doll haul himself out of the Hoofson this morning, so he survived. I just hope Flam does, too." Flim looked over at Cranky, and was not surprised to see that the donkey had been looking off at something else. "Cranky? Are you listening to me, pal?"

The donkey didn't answer immediately. Something was happening to the mare in the Squealchair as she was wheeled out into the hall. For a second, the hospital was gone, and Cranky saw instead a vast, vibrant blue ocean, shining brightly in the light of twin suns. The mare was resting on a boat made from a rose, and the image was all together impossible. Then the world was back to the way it should be, and Cranky found himself hearing Flim repeating his last words.

"Listening to me, pal?"

"Uh. Yes," said Cranky, unsure if he was. "Yes, of course. I-I'm sorry, Flim. I was just noticing that young mare they brought out of the elevator. We met her last night, before the firefight."

Flim looked over at the pale unicorn being wheeled around a corner. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. She sure gets around, doesn't she?" He nudged Cranky coyly, and the donkey was about to respond when he heard frantic footsteps from behind them. Turning, he saw a familiar-looking dragon racing towards them, backpack in tow.

Spike slid to a halt next to Cranky, and turned to him. "Hey," he panted, exhausted from what appeared to have been a run from his school. He continued, "Listen, do you know where Zecora is? Y'know, the zebra? I got a call from the hospital in the middle of a lecture, and I have to get to her ASAP."

Cranky shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't know who that is. But," He paused, unsure of whom exactly he was speaking to. "We saw you last night, didn't we? You were that college kid, and you had that mare with you. The term paper guy, right?"

Spike nodded. "Glad you remember. What about it?"

Cranky gestured to the corner the two nurses had just taken Rarity around. "I just saw that same mare getting carted off to a side-ward by two nurses. She was unconscious, and the nurses seemed worried it was some kind of infection." He felt a sudden pride erupt in his chest for his psychic gift, and felt only the slightest bit worse when he saw Spike's face drop.

"Oh shit. Rarity." The drake rushed off, yelling his thanks behind him. He sprinted down the hall, tripped momentarily on a medicine cart, and was gone, disappeared around the corner after the nurses and their cargo.

Flim stared at the corner for a moment, then chuckled. "Kids these days. Strange aren't they? Almost alien."

Cranky stared at the spot where Spike had tripped. "Yes..." he said, thinking about the unconscious mare in a side-ward somewhere. "Strange..."

------

Rarity felt warm. The sound of the beachfront made her smile in her sleep, and she felt the warm waters cooling her hooves as they drifted along with the current. She felt herself rise up, and was rudely awakened by the smashing of her boat into the sands of a sparkling beach. After coughing up several gulps of seawater, Rarity pushed herself up and looked around.

"Margaret? Margaret, where are you?" She called out her companion's name, and heard no answer. Deciding she was on her own for the moment, Rarity made her way along the beach, stopping to lean on some rocks that led up to a plateau.

"Look, you can get out of this," she told herself. "It's just your imagination. You can just open your eyes, right?" She nodded, agreeing with herself forcefully. "Okay, on three: One, Two..." She shut her eyes and opened them again.

"...Or, of course, we have Plan 'B.'"

After searching the area thoroughly, Rarity found the only way to go was up, and began to climb up the rocks towards the plateau above. She grumbled as much as she could along the way, almost grateful that no one else was there to tell her to stop. When she reached the plateau, she congratulated herself by stretching her legs out, savoring the soft pops that told her that her muscles were un-knotting themselves. She looked out at the ocean, and said, "Well, after that imaginary climb, I imagine I'm almost exhausted."

Her smile faded as she realized that no one was there to help her continue her journey. "This is terrible," she said to no one. "This whole thing, it really is the worst. Possible. Thing." She allowed herself the dramatics, even though she knew they were pointless alone. "They say they want to teach me about this." She waved at the imaginary world around her. "Well, 'How to Get Home' would be a great start."

She looked out at the ocean again. "Okay, Rarity. Think hard..." She turned and began to head up a more step-like pile of rocks, and spoke to herself for company. "This isn't one of the higher levels of the Immateria that Margaret talked about. Everything is shifting and changing too much." She looked over at a nearby seagull, and watched it flap its gloves and take off, right on time, according to its watch. "I'm still in the dream-like region. Perhaps Misty Magic Land, or somewhere."

Her thoughts began to give her panicky situations, and she felt her heartbeat speed up. "Oh God, what if I get lost? M-Maybe that's what happens to depressed people... o-or crazy people."

She stopped. Did I just say "God?" Her mind had told her to say it, and it came out unconsciously. "Oh God, this place is getting to me already," she said, and she yelped when she realized she'd said it again. "Maybe I am going crazy. Maybe that's what happens to people who get to places like this. They wander out of the safe and sane areas of their mind, and they wind up somewhere bad and wild and..."

She looked up at the plateau stretching out before her. Or what she had thought was a plateau.

"...and, uh..."

Rarity was staring at an iron gate. Along the sides of it were the decapitated heads of countless creatures, some recognizable, others strange and alien. Above the gate was a stone archway, created by the stone tongues of two gargoyles facing each other. The gate itself, though, was what caught Rarity's attention. At the top of it, the gate had several words scripted onto it:

TRANCIPALITY OF HY BRASIL

Next to the gate, on the stone wall, was something that made Rarity afraid to continue, even though she knew this was her next stop. A sign was nailed into the wall, and it stated:

NEPTURA'S PROTECTORSHIP

Beneath it, scribbled in blood, were the words:

TRAVELERS TURN BACK!

Rarity gulped, and stood staring at one of the heads for a moment. Then, after several inner arguments about whether or not this was really happening, she trotted up to the gates, daintily opened the gate, and shut it politely on her way in.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next: AMAZING GRACE!