On the Edge of Christianity

They began to wander aimlessly for the next five minutes, making their way towards the conference where they’d supposedly be in the presence of the holy great and powerful historical figures, and the one true divine God with his son J-Man or whatever. Twilight was obligated to whatever Celestia demanded, and she hated each and every second of her existence when restrained in her shadow, but the royal powers and freedom to do basically whatever she wanted were pretty awesome.

While wandering they saw some grotesque scenes. These strange human creatures were all engaged in conversation. They all took a chance to speak one at a time and occasionally an individual group of them would chuckle. This was, as Twilight recognised, a theatre in Canterlot every evening at seven. Furthermore, they even had nibbles to satisfy their laughably appalling appetite.

The most exciting event was that of two men locked in confrontation. One being Jack Kerouac and the other being some nutcase psychologist.

“That beverage was mine and you know it, Freud!” Shouted Kerouac, raising his fists in rage.

Freud rolled his eyes. “Oh please, I think we all know you’ve had plenty.”

Kerouac growled fiercely, grabbing a nearby bottle and smashing it against the edge of a table. This was Heaven, so the bottles were basically unbreakable to prevent ill-mannered twats.

Freud rolled his eyes, smirking. “Haha! Kerouac, you really paid nicely to my theories, didn’t you? Oh, and that silly little novel you wrote, it’s just your own drug addiction.”

Once again, Kerouac could not restrain himself. “Same goes for your stinking structural model, dick.”

Twilight never saw the end of that argument, or discovered what this structural model is. Instead, she listened to the conversation between Kant and Celestia.

“They’re really trying to put a clamp down on rogue worlds now, Tia, it’s difficult to hold them off.” Kant explained. “Just last week they got missionaries into Sugar Rush.”

“Well… you know what they say up here. Today: feminism, tomorrow: humanism, and the next day… eh, who cares?” Celestia rolled her eyes as they joined the queue into the conference room. Even in Heaven a perfectly organised system was supposedly inconceivable.

Tia continued. “Feminism and ponyism are long gone in Equestria, and I lead them to it. We still have feminists turning up complaining about stallions being jerks by responding to the natural instincts programmed within them which gives them their sexuality, magical or not, and yet it’s apparently still a problem!”

She was pouting with exasperation, giving Kant a dismayed vibe. “They’re going to notice eventually, and then you’ll get missionaries, ambassadors, Thalmor and all kind of nonsense crawling around Canterlot!”

The pretend deity snarled sarcastically. “Thanks.” They took a step forward in the queue. “I try to cover it up, but getting a nation to turn around seems harder than causing a successful revolution in the first place.”

Kant smirked. “Down on Earth a ‘successful revolution’ is fantasy.”

Twidark, who had been listening to the entire conversation was about to ask what the hell they were on about, until the man who made a mockery of her new friend Kant wandered by.

“Ha! Look! It’s Kant!” John Stuart Mill laughed, a woman at his side who simply smiled accordingly. “How’s that categorical imperative going then?”

“Fine.” Kant grunted, adding ‘moron’ under his breath.

Mill smiled notoriously, feeling like the proud ass who inspired praise of intellectual arts and fear of bodily pleasures. “That’s great. You got your little porny friends here too. What are you, a brony? Pah!” He joked, chuckling wildly. He focused on Twilight and Celestia. “You two stick out like a sore rule of thumb right here, you’re the only representatives who aren’t human!”

Provocatively, Mill laughed louder, drawing attention. The white alicorn took no notice while Twilight followed her lead for a reason she barely understood. It was a shame how superiority operated in Heaven. Humans were, of course, mightier than beasts in every way, sentient or not, bastard or not.

Ignoring the ass did the trick, and he wandered off, leaving the trio to finally walk into the conference hall twelve minutes late. They look their designated seats. Before starting Twilight wished to know specifically what they were there for.

“Oh, I almost forgot you were here.” Tia began. “It’s a conference. They want every world under the same flag; the flag of Christ. Just ignore what’s going on and try not to draw attention. If they find out what I’ve done to Equestria I might be exiled and mares will lose all power.”

Twilight reluctantly nodded, understanding the logic in what her teacher was trying to portray. The conference room was large, fit to seat hundreds in a semicircle. The chairs were wooden and the structure was stone with an altar in the front of the room which all the seats faced, an attempt to resemble a lecture church.

All around sat great historical figures babbling towards each other about whatever crossed their minds. Twilight saw great philosophers such as Plato and Hume theorising and then disproving. Great writers such as Tolkien and Shakespeare deluded themselves about romance. Ethicists such as Bentham and Fletcher answered questions with questions. Great scientists such as Einstein and Tesla debated whose quantum harmonizer was biggest. Great musical legends from Mozart and Beethoven to Bob Dylan and Frank Sinatra laughed at shitty modern music. Pythagoras sat in a corner as punishment for boring millions of children and starting a cult.

Twilight knew none of the above. Regardless, she was pessimistically fascinated.

The service timetable sat in front. Twilight levitated it with her magic, though was quickly interrupted by her teacher.

“Be careful with how you use your magic, this isn’t Canterlot. People get jealous.” She advised sternly.

Twilight nodded, attempting to open it with her hooves, but failing terrifically. “Why can’t I use my hooves?!” She moaned.

“This is Heaven, anatomy makes sense here.”