Chapter 1: Nightmare in Manna-Hattan
6:30 AM, Morning of June 22nd, 2016, Potential Worldline EG-002-TLN
"This is Camera Candy, reporting live from the Solstice Day celebrations in lower Manna-Hattan, where the worst disaster in the history of New Aemstelredamme is occurring."
The rose-pink skinned, straw-haired reporter was a familiar presence on televisions all across the Republic of North Terranova, from the cold cities of Narrowstrait and Royalmount to the north, to Friendly in the southeast and Mesheeko City to the southwest, to Angels and Coeverden in the far west. She always sounded a little excited, looked just a little bit more girlish than her actual age -- that was part of her appeal. Right now, though, she didn't look cutely flustered.
She looked terrified.
"Behind me, from where I stand on Temporal Triangle," she said breathlessly, "Manna-Hattan is burning." The cameras showed the background -- the familiar canyons of the city, but half the glass on the great skyscrapers was broken and lying in the streets, like a gleaming carpet of diamonds. It looked beautiful, until one realized that some of the still figures carpeted by the shimmering shards, and in many cases clearly impaled by them, had once been human beings, and that they further glistened from a liquid which daubed them -- largely composed of human blood.
"The celebrations were first disrupted by attacks against the Jugenheim Museum and the New Aemstelredamme Museum of Natural History, in which a band of armed assailants made off with several valuable items. An hour later, a major factory complex at the docks near Tompkins Town was destroyed by a tremendous explosion, resulting in the devastation you see around me." She paused for breath, half-turning and pointing south.
Between the rows of buildings, she had a clear view of Lower Manna-Hattan. An immense column of smoke and flames was rising in the distance, and the damage to all the structures got worse as the view approached it. The wind was blowing from the southeast, giving the camera a clear view to the point where the streets began to be choked by the rubble which had once been parts of buildings.
"It is feared that as many as twenty thousand people may have been killed, and many more injured, in the initital explosions, which authorities are stating was roughly equivalent in yield to fifteen kilotons of TNT, though they are emphasizing that there was no release of dangerous radiation. Much of Lower Manhattan is now on fire, and fire-fighting equipment has been dispatched from hundreds of miles around to put out the blaze. Medical personnel are being flown in from every city within a thousand miles."
As she spoke, helicopters roared overhead, flying toward the epicenter of the disaster, and the first vehicles of a column of TNR Army armored personnel carriers with large red crosses on them rumbled southward, trying to pick the way least choked with corpses and other debris. One of them rolled right over one of the corpses, which squelched. Camera Candy blanched, and put a hand to her mouth, but with a visible effort managed to stop herself from vomiting on the air.
The scene cut to the anchorman.
"We're experiencing some technical difficulties with the feed from Miss Camera," came the familiar soothing voice of Waiting Brinker, though the look on the evenly-trimmed dark blue face under his ivory hair was one of utter horror, for the brief moment that it took him to regain his composure. "Government experts assure us that the fires will be brought under control, and that most of the city can in fact be saved." The tone was meant to project reassurance, though an intellectual examination of the statement would reveal that this meant that more of the greatest city on Earth was likely to burn to the ground before the day was over, and that this was something that the Republican government had no choice but to admit. "Damage to Brooklane, across the East Channel, is limited to broken windows and a few small fires; casualties from there are reportedly light." In other words, the explosion had been massive enough to cause widespread light damage across more than a mile of open water.
"Here we're getting some live shots from a camera mounted on the Barricade Cliffs on the New Guernsey side of the Half-Moon River, which reveals some of the damage from a distance." The early morning sun was almost totally obscured by the vast stalk of smoke rising from the Lower East Side. The once-vast mushroom cloud had now been blown by the morning breezes into a black veil stretching over Brooklane, parts of Kings and Bronksfarm to the northeast. The flickers of monstrous flames could be seen lighting the bottom of the smoke column from the inside.
"Now I'd like to address some rumors that have been coming out of the disaster area ever since shortly after the explosion, those of a mysterious winged woman who is said to be spreading hallucinations and madness. Dr. Saneish Feelgood, of the Republican Institute of Mental Health, is on the video feed from St. Beth's in Marryland to discuss their psychological significance.
The camera switched to a chubby, orange-skinned bald man with glasses and a visible paunch, wearing a white coat with a dress shirt and tie. He beamed benignly at the audience. "Hello, Waiting," he said cheerfully.
"Hello, Dr. Feelgood," replied Waiting Brinker. "Doctor, what do you have to say about the reports of a mysterious winged woman who has been supposedly making the disaster worse by spreading hallucinations and madness?"
"Well, Waiting," the doctor replied, steepling his hands together. "You must understand that in a general crisis of this sort, people feel helpless. They feel overwhelmed by the scale of the suffering. They want to survive, and they want to help, but they don't know what to do. Thus, they are under psychological stresses. They feel fear and disorientation. They may themselves break under the strain. So they invent an external figure, on whom they can blame these unpleasant emotions and personal reactions."
"I understand, Dr. Feelgood," the anchorman said, "but why this particular figure -- a winged woman?"
"Winged figures are common to numerous religions," Dr. Feelgood pointed out. "Angels, devils ... all have frequently been depicted with wings. It is a metaphor, formed in the collective subconscious mind to symbolize the ..."
"Wait a moment," said Waiting, cutting the psychiatrist off. "We're getting new reports from inside the disaster zone. "Sorry, Doctor -- I'm going back live to Camera Candy."
The screen filled again with Camera Candy, who looked a bit better, though her lipstick was smudged and there was still a faint glisten of something suspicious on her chin.
"This is Camera Candy again," she said. "reporting from Temporal Triangle, Manna-Hattan. Some sort of disturbance appears to be impending the rescue efforts -- there was a flash of light from the south ... there it is again!"
Something rose above the burning buildings, something looking vaguely like a huge pair of iridescent rainbow ... wings? They were very attenuated, and the buildings and smoke could be seen through them. They brushed a helicopter.
The helicopter immediately pitched forward for no obvious reason. Accelerating madly, it flew directly into the ground below -- not a normal crash, but what looked like a deliberate ramming into a small and as yet mostly-undamaged skyscraper. The helicopter disappeared into a fireball, as did the upper stories of the small skyscraper.
"Oh my God!" cried Camera Candy. "Did you get that? One of the choppers just crashed -- there it is again!"
The wings flared up again, touched two more helicopters. One of them attempted a loop-de-loop -- a maneuver not recommended for most civilian rotary-winged aircraft. That helicopter immediately demonstrated why this was so by losing control and screaming, upside down, toward the city streets below. The inverted lift of the main rotor increased its descent velocity. It disappeared behind some relatively low-standing structures. A few moments later a fireball rose into the air from behind those buildings.
The other helicopter did something more seemingly normal. It turned around and began flying back north.
"Two helicopters have crashed," Candy reported in horror, "the victim of some unknown weapon. A third seems to be making it to safety." Then she noticed that the helicopter was descending and making right for them. It was not slowing for a landing in Temporal Triangle -- it was accelerating, as if it intended to smash into Candy's position.
Her mouth gaped wide open as she realized what was about to happen. At the last moment it lifted slightly -- an alert camerman managed to track its passage. The Army transport chopper roared right overhead and into the emergency medical aid station that had been set up in the Triangle. There was a tremendous explosion, and the aid station was obliterated.
"Oh my God!" shrieked Candy. "They got the aid station! All the wounded! All the wounded!" She was openly crying now, losing the last remnants of her professional facade. "What's going on here!"
Everything flashed rainbow across the Triangle. At that moment every other person in the Triangle began screaming. Some fell on the ground, clawing at themselves or trying to burrow under cars, some ran in random directions, often smacking against cars or other people with sickening force, some of them breaking bones. One well-dressed man ran passed the camera, screaming obscenties --something was wrong with his eyes, and he held some white and red glistening objects in his hands ...
Candy suddenly realized what these objects were and began retching again. The feed cut back for a moment to the studio.
Waiting Brinker gulped and said "Um ... there appears to be more ... um ..."
"No," said a cold and merciless female voice. "You will not upstage the Great and Powerful Delusion. Go mad."
Waiting shrieked hysterically and began trying to eat the news copy before him. Around him other figures ran randomly around the studio, one shedding his clothes as he ran, another with a microphone cable protruding from his mouth, who seemed to be trying to swallow the mike.
"Ah," continued the cold voice. "That is more to Delusion's liking."
The view suddenly switched back to Temporal Triangle.
Camera Candy was standing there, her face pale, shuddering in obvious terror.
Standing next to her was an impossible figure.
She looked rather like an ordinary young woman -- powder-blue skin, very pale fine bluish-white hair, purple eyes. Or she would have looked like an ordinary young woman, if she had not also had great membranous wings, shimmering nauseously like some impossible rainbow, pointed ears, fangs and an immense tail, like some sort of hybrid of human, bat and horse. What should have been the whites of her eyes were dead black. She was wearing some sort of purple costume, incongruously rather like a knee-length, rather modest party dress, and a peaked hat adorned with white moons and stars.
"I am the Great and Powerful Delusion," the young woman said in that chillingly cold voice, "and those of you I choose to let live can have the privilege of becoming my slaves. Delusion here and now abrogates the Constitution of the Republic of Terra Nova and substitutes for it her own divine whim, as Mage-Queen of the World. Any questions, Candy?"
Candy could only incoherently gibber.
"Oh, what's the matter?" Delusion said. "You are normally so adept at meaningless chatter, soft-ball questions? This is the interview opportunity of a lifetime. Surely you have something to ask the new ruler of your planet?"
Text began scrolling across the bottom of the screen.
"THIS IS A CIVIL DEFENSE ADVISORY ... ALL PERSONS WITHIN A TEN-MILE RADIUS OF MANA-HATTAN ISLAND ARE ADVISED TO TAKE WHATEVER COVER IS AVAILABLE ..."
"Wh ... wh ... wh ... why?" Candy managed to gasp.
"Why?" repeated Delusion, seeming to consider it. "An interesting question, beloved of philosophers. The Great and Powerful Delusion had to sit through Philosophy every afternoon at 2 pm in her boring preparatory school, did you know that? Listening to meaningless arguments that never got resolved and keeping company with fools, idiots and sluts who were not worth even the smallest finger of even the lesser being she used to be. But of course, how would you know that? You are, after all a fool, and idiot and probably a slut as well. Am I not right?"
Meanwhile, the text continued to crawl across the screen.
"... ELEMENTS OF THE NTRAF 22ND HEAVY BOMBER SQUADRON HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED AND DETONATION IS IMMINENT. SOME INNOCENT LOSS OF LIFE IS UNAVOIDABLE. TAKE SHELTER IMMEDIATELY, ESPECIALLY IN CELLARS OR ..."
"Why are you doing this!" Candy wailed.
"Ah," replied the woman-thing. "A pertinent question at last, worthy of the attention of the Wise and Intelligent Delusion, who shall privilege you with an answer. But first ---" her eyes glowed.
Candy slapped herself three times in the face hard. She sobbed hysterically, less at the pain of the blows than at the fact that her body had suddenly acted against her own will.
"-- That is for yelling in Delusion's ear. Be glad that she is amused with you, or she would have treated you more harshly." Delusion composed herself, tilted her head, made a horrible parody of a flirtatious smile at the camera. "Ahem. Essentially, Delusion has noticed over two decades of growing up among you mortal worms that you have the brains of fleas, the morals of dogs, and the vision of earthworms. You are also all very boring and mundane. Hence, Delusion is going to significantly reduce your numbers to a more ecologically-sustainable level and keep some of you around for her amusement. The ones she keeps around will be those she considers the smarter, more decent and generally-amusing of your kind, so you had all better get cracking on thinking about how to please her. Does that answer your question?"
Candy could only nod dumbly at the monster.
"WE REPEAT, GET UNDER SHELTER. DETONATION WILL BE WITHIN ONE MINUTE."
Delusion looked up with annoyance. "For example," she said, "there are some people flying right toward this spot right now who are extremely stupid and annoying and mundane. The Great and Multi-Tasking Delusion is going to demonstrate right now how a truly superior being not only handles annoyance but resolves other problems at the same time. Observe." Her wings flashed impossibly outward and upward, reaching many miles to the southwest.
High overhead, the pilots of two heavy bombers realized that their navigational equipment had been in error. They took manual control of their bombsights and flew toward the true location of Temporal Square, which they now grasped to be in the center of the city of Bayonet, New Guernsey. They also realized that a far more accurate bomb run would become possible if they reset their 20-kiloton tactical devices to a 100-yard altitude trigger, and then delivered them on target by the simple method of power-diving into it. Their bombardiers performed the necessary function and they embarked upon their new missions.
There was a huge flash of light from many miles to the southwest across the Half-Moon River. There was only one, because the knowledge of the Great and Powerful Delusion had not extended to an understanding of the problem of "fratricide" -- she had previously used pyrotechnics in her act, but never ones so powerful. However, a single 20-kiloton thermonuclear device was more than adequate to utterly-level a target such as Bayonet, New Guernsey.
"A certain comedian originated from there," Delusion informed the horrified news reporter as the Sun-hot fireball climbed into the sky over what had been a small industrial city. "The Great and Tasteful Delusion never liked him -- or his bubbly pink airhead of a girlfriend. Hmm ..." she thought for a moment, "... not that he actually still lives in Bayonet," Delusion realized aloud. "Oh well! No harm done. Delusion can always take care of him later!" she chirped happily. "Any more questions?"
***
January 14th, YOH 1505, Under the Palace of Canterlot, Equestria, Earth-Prime
"Close it!" cried Princess Celestia. "I need view no more. I do not wish to view any more!" Her face was drawn as if in pain.
Princess Luna nodded and released the lever. The lid closed over the Pool of Truth. Her own visage was paler than was the norm.
"That, asked Princess Twilight Sparkle slowly, "was an alternate Trixie?" Her voice was strained both in horror, and in disbelief.
"That," explained Luna solemnly, "was Nightmare Delusion."
"How did she do all that?" asked Twilight.
"She has gained the power of a realized Nightmare, reinforced by the Night Shadows, in a dimension which mostly lacks magical lore -- and hence has little defense against such a form of attack," explained Celestia. "The result is as you have seen -- just as the Alicorn Illusion has the power to spread sanity, Nightmare Delusion can project insanity. Madness."
"That last attack looked like one of your sunbursts, though," Twilight said. "How did she gain that ability?"
"No," said Celestia. "That was a small sunfire bomb, constructed by the natives of that world for their own defense. Delusion took control of the minds of those wielding the weapon, and caused them to destroy the wrong target. For essentially trivial reasons, too -- she could as easily have ordered them to detonate the device harmlessly over the open ocean."
"It sounded like that Trixie hated that world's ... Pinkie Pie? And Cheese Sandwich?"
"Probably," Luna said. "Actually, our Trixie dislikes both of them, so it is to be expected that Delusion would share this sentiment."
"But destroying a whole city?" Twilight repeated in disbelief. "Because you don't like one Pony who came from there? When he's not even there?"
"Nightmare Delusion is, of course, insane," said Celestia. "That is the nature of the Nightmare state -- though some, of course, are worse than others."
"Aye," affirmed Luna. "This version of Trixie is in a particularly bad Nightmare state. She is willing to kill face-to-face, and to do so without remorse. My Nightmare was not quite so cruel, though her plan would have been even more destructive in the end."
"Is it because that Trixie's Human?" Twilight asked, rubbing her lower jaw with one hoof. "Humans seem more violent than Ponies."
"In part," answered Celestia. "But that should not have made her quite so ... sadistic."
"I saw that too," added Luna. "Normally, a good host would be struggling against the worst impulses of the Shadow riding her," she further explained. "That is why Nightmare Moon was unwilling to kill good Ponies. The Night Shadow had to keep reinforcing its control over me, for I bucked and kicked, trying to throw it, when it urged me to do too great ills."
"Trixie is weaker than you," Twilight pointed out, looking at Luna.
"Not that much weaker," replied Luna. "I've had the measure of our Trixie, training her for my own team of Champions. She is almost thy match in some ways, as thou were before thy Ascension. She is certainly not so weak that she would let a Night Shadow have its way with her in every respect. She should be fighting it. She clearly is not."
"It could be a self-generated Nightmare," Twilight thought. "If there's no Night Shadow to fight, wouldn't that make it harder for the victim to behave sanely?"
"Yes," said Celestia. "But her behavior seems ... wrong. Trixie is annoying and obnoxious, but she is not a murderous psychopath. If she went into Nightmare, she would probably try to stage a magic show and force everypony to watch her, not threaten genocide."
"Aye," said Luna. "Trixie Lulamoon is ... irritating ... at times, but her heart is good. 'Tis hard to see her as one who would destroy a whole city just because she did not like Cheese Sandwich. Or do any of the fell deeds we saw in the Pool. Even in Nightmare, such evil is beyond her."
The three Alicorns pondered the mystery for a moment. Then Twilight asked the obvious question.
"What are we going to do about this? I know that isn't our world, but surely we can't let those innocent Humans die? I've been one of them ... they're like us in most ways, even though they're very strange-looking and have some repulsive habits. They know Friendship and Love, even their own version of Harmony. Shall I get the girls together for a field trip?" Her look was pleading.
"No," said Celestia.
Twilight gave her a shocked look.
"Understand, my former student and still faithful friend," continued Celestia, "I cannot risk you and your Companions this time, in fighting a threat entirely native to that world. I shall instead contact my Aspect there, and advise her on the best way to stop Nightmare Delusion, with your native Aspect and her Companions."
"Oh," said Twilight. "So we're not just going to let them all die then." She looked very relieved.
"No," said Celestia. "I am not so heartless." She looked at Luna and frowned. "But there is another problem."
Luna nodded. "The other worldlines in that bundle."
Twilight screwed up her eyes in concentration. "You're worried that whatever turned that line's Trixie into a psychopathic murderess will also affect more of the Human worlds' Trixies?"
"Very good," said Celestia in approval. "That line was temporally-advanced compared to the others. Most of those worldlines are still in their 2000's to early 2010's, by their dating system. Whatever force corrupted that line's Trixie may have yet to corrupt the others."
"Will we be going to those others to save their Trixies?" Twilight asked.
"No," said Celestia. "There are too many worldlines and I cannot spare you for the time it would take to do that." She walked over to the Pool, looked down at the lid covering it. "Instead," she said, "I will contact somepony who knows Trixie Lulamoon better than any of us ..."
Luna looked up in surprise.
"Yes, even better than do you, dear Sister," Celestia confirmed. "Somepony who was her mentor in our bundle of worldlines."
Luna nodded.
"White-Beard the Grey?" asked Twilight Sparkle. She grinned with the look of one who has solved a riddle.
"The same," replied Celestia. "He should know what to do."
***
Celestia lay down on her bed, meditated, and slipped into a trance, while Luna and Twilight remained in the room to keep her inert form company.
"Do you think this will work?" whispered Twilight to Luna.
"If anypony can save Trixie -- any Trixie -- from herself it would be Whitebeard," Luna answered in a low voice. "After all, 'twas his deed which saved her in our world."
"I don't really know him well," admitted Twilight. "But Trixie adores him. And I've heard he was really smart."
"The most brilliant," replied Luna. "Star-Swirl was one of his mortal Aspects. Wisedreamer -- to give him his right name -- is a sort of knight-errant, traveling from world to world, time to time, appearing when hope seems lost to counsel and rally their inhabitants against evil. He is also called the Grey Pilgrim, for this reason."
"Wait," Twilight asked, "Did you say he was Star-Swirl the Bearded? It came out almost as a sort of excited squeal.
Luna smiled fondly. "Dost thou wish to hear more of his deeds?" she asked.
"Do I?!!!" Twilight answered enthusiastically. "Yes!!!" She was bouncing up and down, wings widespread, almost taking flight.
"Let us go to the far end of the room, so we don't bother my Sister," Luna proposed. "And I shall tell thee all thou mayest wish to hear of Star-Swirl -- and Wisedreamer."
They did just that.
***
Celestia was walking through her favorite dreamscape -- the woods behind Paradise Estate, as it had been when she and Lulu and Dissy had all been young together. That was the happiest she had ever been in the over two and a half millennia of her life.in this Aspect. These woods were one of her happy places. So was a hill overlooking the Estate, under a certain oak tree beneath which she used to picnic -- but that was a place of entirely more private memories.
She entered a sunlit clearing.
Wisedreamer was there, sitting on a log as he often was in these dreams, puffing on his favorite pipe. His long gray mane trailed behind him, his long beard waggled as he puffed, his head was as usual shaded by his floppy peaked hat. "Well met, Celestia. I believe you called upon me?" he asked, his voice kindly his blue-gray eyes twinkling at her under his bushy eyebrows.
"Yes," Celestia replied. " I hope I have not distracted you from some more pressing concern?"
"No, you have not," assured Wisedreamer. "I have some business at hand -- readying a star system against an attack by a horde of Vermicious Knids -- a bit more intelligent and thus dangerous than is their usual wont -- but it's mostly a matter of diplomacy, getting the races of that system to stop fighting each other and unite aganist the common foe. The usual -- I'm really hoping to rally some heroes so that they can deliver the usual speeches, rescue some princesses from the other worlds, impress their papas and mamas, that sort of thing. Otherwise, my throat will be worn dry trying to talk some sense into five worlds full of numbskulls."
"Oh," Celestia said. It actually sounded rather interesting, but she had her own pressing concerns. "We have a little problem with your own Former Faithful Student," she said.
"Trixie?" asked Wisedreamer. "What's the little minx done this time?" His tone was fond when he spoke of her.
"Worse than you might think," said Celestia. "But don't blame yourself! It's not your Trixie."
"Ah," said Wisedreamer. "Who is it -- some alternate I never got to train?"
"We think so," replied Celestia. "She's gone full-blown Nightmare, and an exceptionally powerful and destructive one at that." She quickly outlined the details.
"I see," said Wisedreamer, looking a bit sad. "Poor girl -- poor other Humans, too. I took care of the ones from your bundle of worldlines, but didn't consider that there might be Trixies in the Human ones as well. I rather hoped that their own parents might be taking better care of them, but I'm guessing that their families are at least as loopy as the Lulamoons of your world." He sighed, thought for a moment, puffing his pipe furiously.
"Well," he said at last, "I don't have the time to visit each and every one of those worldlines personally and knock some sense into each and one of those lovely blue heads." He scowled fiercely as he said it, shaking his staff as if he would batter Trixie with at this moment -- Celestia knew that, of course, he was shamelessly bluffing. Wisedreamer was never cruel to children, nor unnecessarily violent to anypony. "She is lovely," he mused. "Part of the problem, really, it helps puff up her vast ego. Silly girl," he said, affectionately, to some mental image of Trixie Lulamoon.
"So I'll have to recruit some local talent," he continued. "Problem is that Trixie doesn't take well to most authority figures. She has to love someone, want to please them, in order to listen to them. Which limits my options. With whom does our Trixie get along?" He puffed his pipe some more.
"Luna?" asked Celestia.
"Hmm ... she didn't at first, though," Wisedreamer pointed out. "Ran away from her, if I remember. Though maybe my local talent could steer her toward the Vice-Principal. Two mentors are better than one, they say? Do they say? Well, I just said it, so there ...and you and Twilight Sparkle are right out ... she ran away from your school at Canterlot, and became obsessed with defeating Twilight. Nearly got her soul devoured by the ghost of King Sombra ... not something we want to see her repeating in other worlds!"
He stroked his beard.
"Ah," he said. "I've got it. Liked him on first sight, took his advice, and he knew how to deal with her nonsense. Well, most of it. And that never would have happened if they hadn't ... yes, he'll be ideal. I think."
"Wait," said Celestia. "Whom are you talking about?"
He told her.
"You're crazy," Celestia said flatly.
"Can you think of any better choices?" Wisedreamer asked her.
She thought for a moment, then shook her head.
"Then him it is." decided Wisedreamer. "I'll get right on it."
***
He was sleeping soundly, in his bed in his brownstone in Bailantimore. It had been a tiring night at the Caballarena, and he had earned this sleep.
He of course thought nothing of it when he started to dream.
He was walking through the woods. He was wearing some sort of hiking clothes -- sweater, jeans, and boots. Which was in itself interesting, because he almost never went hiking. That was a rural sort of thing, and he'd gotten enough of pointless walking through the woods those summers he played with a traveling show, when he'd met Russ and really gotten started on fulfilling his life's ambitions. These days he exercised on city streets, or in a health club like any civilized man.
He stepped into a clearing, and for a moment he thought he saw something absurd: a white horse with a gray mane and beard, somehow holding a staff in one hoof, wearing a floppy peaked hat and puffing smoke from an ornate pipe. He shook his head and his vision cleared: what he was actually seeing was a very healthy-looking old man holding a staff in one hand, wearing a floppy peaked hat and puffing smoke from an ornate pipe. The man reminded him of pretty much every cliche wizard he'd ever seen described in fantasy novels.
"Hello," the old man said. "My name is Wisedreamer. And I have a job for you."
"That's nice," he replied. "I already have a job. I run a theatre."
"This dovetails rather nicely with your current profession," Wisedreamer explained. "I'm going to arrange for you to meet and mentor some new talent. A stage magician."
"Oh, you're his agent?" he asked, a bit sarcastically. "I have an office, and office hours. Come see me between three and five, I do auditions on Wednesdays. Not normally when I'm dreaming." And with that, he suddenly realized that he was dreaming. Time to wake up now, he thought, and became a bit alarmed when the dream continued.
"Hers," replied Wisedreamer. "And I promise you she has what it takes. She's potentially the greatest stage magician in your whole world."
"Do tell," he replied. "What's her resume?" This was all utterly surreal, but he might as well treat it like any other professonal conversation with a talent agent.
"Well," Wisedreamer said, "just local talent shows so far. She's a bit young, you see. Only fourteen."
"Oh, a kid," he said with some scorn. "What's the name of your wunderkind, anyway?"
"Beatrix Lulamoon," Wisedreamer explained. "But she goes by 'Trixie.'"
"I can see why," he replied. "So, is she going to show up in this dream too?"
"Not as such," Wisedreamer said. "But she looks like this." He extended his left hand, palm up, and an image floated over that hand. It was the face of a girl, just on the cusp of womanhood, with powder-blue skin and long fine hair, such a light bluish-white that it almost seemed pure white. Quite pretty, even beautiful, and she wore a look of rather sarcastic intelligence on her delicate features that might or might not bode well for her talents.
"Cute kid," he replied. "Looks like she has some smarts, but looks can be deceiving. So when is she coming by to interview?" he asked.
"Oh, you're going to do some volunteer work at her school," Wisedreamer explained. "The Hoovertown Preparatory Academy. You'll be looking for summer interns -- you might even find some decent talent in addition to Trixie. But the important thing is that you take Trixie into your intern program. You're going to be her mentor."
"Do tell," he said, folding his arms and staring straight into the eyes of the old man. "Look, pal," he said. "I've had plenty of hard cases think they could muscle me into taking on their sons or daughters or whoever into my show. And each time I've told them what I'm going to tell you now. I don't take anyone on the show unless they have what it takes I'll give your kid a chance, but that's it. And I'm sure as hell not gonna waste my time in some prep school in Hoovertown, just because your grand-daughter or whatever she is to you happens to go there!"
"I see," said Wisedreamer. "I'm sorry," the old man said.
"For what?" he asked.
"For what I'm about to do," Wisedreamer explained. "I wouldn't be doing this if your own world's need weren't so great."
"Wha --" he started to say, and there was a flash of light, right into his eyes, and suddenly he was in what is normally called a 'dreamlike state', except that of course he was already dreaming, so this couldn't be the case.
"I rarely force another's will without serious provocation," Wisedreamer said. "This is an evil thing I do to you, and you are not an evil man. Forgive me for this ill I do you, and I am only somewhat consoled by the great likelihood that you will greatly gain by this path. I hope," he added.
There was nothing he could say in response. There was nothing he could do. He was not pained, or frightened, for he was in a state beyond ordinary reason, his will helpless in the grasp of the old man who apparently not only looked like some concept of a fantasy wizard, but also had the powers of such a being.
"Now," Wisedreamer said. "This is what you are going to do."
"This is what I am going to do," agreed Piercing Gaze.
