The Conversion Bureau: Flicker Flame

by Arcturus

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Princess Celestia, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Main 6, Other, Princess Luna, Original Character
Length: 6092

The last human state on Earth attempts reasoning with the Princesses.

Sun rises in the East, winter is followed by spring, and a person can run away from its problems only for so long. One day, you've got to turn around and either yield - or face them, stand and fight for the values you believe in.

Apparently, the above applies to Humanity as a whole, too. However, there's a catch: is fighting worth it if you cannot win?

Several years have passed since the emergence of Equestria. The shiny bubble of the Barrier now covers a substantial portion of the planet and is still expanding, albeit at a slower rate than initially predicted. An even greater part of human population has chosen to undergo Conversion, exchanging their miserable existence for a new life in a bright and hospitable dimension, and set off for the mystic tides, never to be seen on Earth again. Most institutions and organized structures of humanity have thus gradually dissolved into non-existence; the remainder of the planet is now controlled by HLF-spawned communities, or just by plain brigands who rapidly slip towards Middle-Age levels of culture and technology.

There's an exception to this, however. In a remote and unwelcoming region of the continent, one shard of the old civilization just doesn't want to let go. And the people in charge aren't happy at all about the deal the old World Government struck with the Princesses...

Published 2012-05-03 14:44:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-06-25 09:48:22 UTC

Intro

Dark ragged clouds ran swiftly across the dusty blue sky. A plaything for aerial currents, they were twined together and torn apart again, thinning into long, transparent streaks, like wet stains trickling down a botched watercolour painting.

The scuds were fleeting so low, they almost seemed to touch the towering spire of a magnificent building that dominated the city square. Of course, the aged structure wasn’t that tall - not even nearly as tall as the more modern behemoths, whose hulking bodies of glass and plastic were vaguely visible in the far background. Rather, this was an illusion caused by its heavenward architecture, clear and austere lines going aloft till they joined together at the tips of its many towers and steeples. The whole layout of the building was a bit reminiscent of a sitting giant who’d settled into a lotus stance and immersed in meditation, even in his dormant trance keeping a straight and proud posture.

Indeed, it was an early, twilight hour, when one’s eye cannot yet decide on seeing hues or shapes, and all things appear to be coloured in shades of grey, teal and glaucous. Somewhere beyond the horizon, the Sun was already sending its glorious rays to illuminate the vast and empty ethereal space, the plain canvas of the sky slowly gaining depth and perspective; but the ground and everything on it were still motionless, locked in a heavy slumber. In sympathy with that, only a few windows in the lower floor of the building were alight, casting thin shiny stripes on the snow-covered parking, while the main body of the structure remained cold and shrouded in shadows.

A low, buzzing sound emerged from one of the avenues that opened into the square. Seconds later, it was followed by a small motorcade which manoeuvred smoothly past the open turnpikes and empty guards posts, coming to a full stop at the entrance portal. Several figures could be seen ascending the stairs easily, then disappearing behind the double doors which momentarily slid open at their approach and shut immediately behind them. Vehicles of the cortège once again were set into motion, scattering around the near-barren parking and freezing at their places.

Suddenly, a window at one of the higher stories lit up, and then an adjacent one, and another, on the same floor. About the same time, red digits smouldering at the facade blinked and shifted, changing to display 8:00. The eastern border of the sky was lightening up already, the day star hurrying to climb it and cast its golden shine upon the awakening earth, announcing the dawn of a new morning. Before it could, however, heavy metallic eyelids on the central tower shook and began to retract with a muffled rattle, letting out yellowish rays of artificial light.

This is how a day was scheduled to begin in a city which for some time already had been called “The Capital”.

As simple as that, just because there were none other left.

I. Paper Mail

“Authorization: successful. SibZone Prime Administrator Frank Miller, please come in”.

The armored door rolled aside, letting a stocky middle-aged man enter his study. The barely-audible hum of ventilation stepped up a notch, fans struggling to filter out particles of dust and smoke, while he took off and hung his coat. Walking around the desk, he first stopped at a coffee machine, starting it up, then approached the window and leant at the heavy frame, observing the city below him.

His city… The man cringed at the thought, still absent-mindedly eyeing the picture, while a completely different scenery unfolded in his imagination.

In my city, there weren’t that many of these multi-storey concrete hives. God, these skyscrapers’ midget cousins sticking out here and there literally scratch my mind. No, there was a high-rise city centre, then a district of cottages, and then… then the favelas, yes, which descended all the way to the sea. Anyway, trying to get to the coastline was pointless and dangerous, but sometimes, you could feel a bit of marine salt and a hint of iodine over the slumber stinks. I remember hearing old-timers say that palm trees used to grow along the boulevards before the Green Collapse. I can believe that.

And it is all long gone by now.

He shook his head, dispelling the vision, once again seeing a frozen ocean of snow-clad roofs, trenched by streets and yards. No matter what, this city could never have palm trees. It couldn’t have favelas either, at least no longer than for a season – till winter comes.

A soft sound of a bell alerted the Administrator, drawing his attention away from the window. He actually expected the signal to come from the coffee machine, but the green light above the doorpost proved otherwise.

“Frank? You’re here? We need to talk in person, it’s urgent, I-I think we might have a problem,” came from the speaker. The man frowned a little, pondering the implications. At this time, Maria was usually immersed in her terminal, sorting through morning mail; even in case of some grave incident, she’d have contacted him via the holonetwork. This must have been something else if she decided to break her routine and run straight to him. Still, it wasn’t like he was going to keep her waiting on the threshold anyway.

“Steward, let the lady in.”

“Door unlocked.” Fortunately, the machine managed to make sense of the vague command.

As soon as the door slid open for about an elbow’s length, a slim black-haired woman squeezed herself through. Her progress, however, was initially hindered by a large folder she carried under her arm. Having finally pulled the unwieldy object into the study, she turned to face Frank.

“…And good morning. Sorry, completely forgot about that.”

“Morning, Mary. It’s nice to see you at any time of the day, no matter what brings you here. Take a seat, please,” he gestured at one of the chairs. “Now, whatever…” He was interrupted as the buzzer rang again, though this time it really came from the coffeemaker.

“Oh, right. Coffee.” The women threw a quick glance at the unit, which Frank could easily track.

“Here, have mine.” He quickly showed the cup into her hands. “I’ll make another one for myself. “ Pulling another chair closer to the table, he seated himself as well.

”So…What is this problem you were talking about? ”

The smile which stealthily crept onto Maria’s features while she was savouring her drink suddenly evaporated. She put her cup down and reached for the folder she’d carried along.

“We’ve got some unusual mail.”

“Ow?” he could see the anxiety in her movements as she opened the hard cover.

“Yes. For one, it came to our common mailbox, but it is addressed specifically to you. Secondly, I mean the physical mailbox. It is written on paper.”

Wasting pricey materials like paper and toner in such a way actually wasn’t a normal occurrence.

Speaking of toner, by the way… “Written?”

“Aye, not printed. At least the address is. That’s the fourth strange thing about it, by the way, though this one is quite logical. Why print the text out if you can send it over the Net? If you cannot, though...”

“And what’s the third oddity, then?”

“See for yourself.” She finally handed in the thick tan envelope.

On the upside, he indeed saw the address, drawn in clean, neat handwriting; below it, a line that read “To Prime Administrator Frank Miller, Head of the Interim Independent Government, personally” was added. He shrugged and turned the envelope over.

Now that was a sight that took his breath away for a moment. The envelope wasn’t glued shut, it was sealed with wax, and upon this wax was imprinted an emblem. A stylized capital “E” inside an upwards-facing semicircle, to be exact.

“Well-well-well …” He exhaled through gritted teeth. “Is it not what I think it is?”

Maria silently nodded.

“All right,” Frank reached out to break the seal, but then halted abruptly and gave the woman a quizzical look.

“Ah! Yes, it’s been through the scanners, I checked out the logs. Nothing harmful in it, no devices, no chemicals or materials except for ink and paper,” her voice faltered. “Unless… Unless it’s undetectable by our means.”

The Administrator wistfully turned over the envelope once again.

“No backwards address?” he asked rhetorically.

“No, and the entry point is untraceable either. For all the machines know, it could have appeared right inside the system”.
“I suspect this is exactly what’s happened. Okay, let’s do this nice and slow, just in case.” He opened one of the desk’s drawers and rummaged a pair of scissors out of it.

“Frank, wait! Let me try! Or, maybe we could use a robot…”

The man shook his head dismissively “Provided this letter is genuine, we’re in for a little fire show if something or somebody other than me tries to open it. I’ve seen similar things before. We’ll have to take this risk.” Pulling a pen out of his pocket, he glowered at Maria. “And surely I’m not letting you touch it!”

Pinning down the envelope with a pen using his left hand, Frank carefully operated the scissors to break the seal. As it finally gave in with and audible crack, he quickly dropped the stationery and took a few steps backwards.

Nothing happened.

“Fine,” he muttered, now taking the scissors by their blades and using the plastic grips as improvised pincers to open the envelope and pull several sheets of paper out of it. All of them were completely blank.

“What the ..?” Frank picked up one of the sheets and immediately dropped it back, as its whole surface suddenly turned an intense violet. Lying on the table, the layer of dark ink began to flux and move, compressing into the same neat cursive they’ve already seen on the envelope.

“Damn, still managed to catch me by surprise,” he cursed. “Very funny, Celestia.”

“You think this is her doing?” the woman called out.

“I highly doubt this document is signed “Princess Luna”,” Frank snorted. He took the letter up again and quickly skimmed through the text.

Maria gave a little cough.

“Good news: this isn’t some PER-forged booby-trap, after all,” announced the man. “As for bad news… Just read it yourself,” he walked up to her chair and handed over the paper.

Dear Frank,

First, being rulers of a neighbouring state, we wish to express belated congratulations to you and your associates on officially establishing the government.
Unfortunately, news about Earth tend to arrive a little late to Canterlot. It is only now that we are able to properly recognize you as a political body, and for that we are offering an apology.

To facilitate the establishment of proper diplomatic relations between our countries, and also to make up for this blunder, it would be of greatest pleasure to us to visit your Capital as part of an Equestrian embassy. We would be most pleased if levels of diplomatic protocol were kept at those befitting of a private visit, however.

Enclosed with this letter, you will find several clean sheets of enchanted paper. Incinerating them over any source of open flame will result in immediate transportation of applied text or graphics directly to our Court. Please use them to let us know you’ve received this message, and come to terms on the time and date of our arrival.

Sincerely,
Royal Pony Sisters of the Realm of Equestria.

P.S. It is very likely that you might find our timing questionable, and indeed it must be less than convenient, considering how busy you probably are. However, there are several pressing matters we need to discuss and settle as soon as possible. I am inclined to believe you understand the necessity, as I do. – P.C.

The lower portion of the paper was adorned by an Equestrian coat of arms. Unlike the rest of the text, which now looked just like ordinary handwritten script (though no hands were obviously used in its creation), the half-crescent/half-sun emblem continued to slowly rotate, with no apparent intention of stopping.

“Well, I’ve been half-wrong about the signature,” admitted Frank. “My point still stands, it must’ve been composed by Celestia, or else I’m eating my hat!”

“You know, you probably should be more careful with words. Make sure to ask her if you get a chance. I‘ll bring some salt and sugar, you wear a hat – try to find a natural felted one, just in case.”

The man briefly chuckled, and then stared at Maria intently, now wearing a dead serious expression.

“You do understand what this means, right?” he asked.

“The whole letter is a warning that says 'You’ve been noticed. You’ll be dealt with soon.'” The woman nodded.

“Yeah, precisely. And don’t forget the post scriptum, which basically reads “Prepare to face the consequences”. He sighed. “Hell, if I knew that’s what they were waiting for, I’d had delayed formally breaking up from IHSA at least for half a year more.”

“We’ve seen it coming anyway, be it sooner or later.”

“Well, I guess now is as good as ever.”

They locked gazes for a full minute. Then Frank made a sharp turn on his heels and loped to the desk.

“Alright! We’ve got a lot of work to do. I’m calling a special session at 10 a.m. For now, you are tasked with relaying this to the cabinet. Don’t yet tell them what all the fuss is about, use only protected channels with no record keeping – I don’t want this to leak out just yet, though it will anyway. If they aren’t responding – don’t leave a message, send someone dependable to drag them out of whatever they’re up to; I don’t care, but everybody should attend – in person – including you, of course. ” He settled down at the table, bringing his own terminal to life with a few finger touches. “Meanwhile, I’m engaging the additional security protocols, and then I’ll go fill Indrik in on the situation.”

“So you’re doing the sitting part, while I’m doing all the running?” she pouted mockingly.

“As usual,” he smiled.

“Roger that. Will do, sir.” She marched to the door, but then stopped at the exit indecisively. “Frank?”

“Yeah?” He peeped over multiple interface and console windows already floating in front of him.

“Maybe you could warn Alexander yourself? You know how seriously he takes the “chain of command” thing and besides, he always has a tight schedule; he may not like me ordering him around.”

“And so what?”

“He won’t hesitate to contact you directly, but…”

“…The mainframe room is isolated, right.” Frank rubbed his chin musingly. “Listen, if he starts to fret, just tell him… tell him… tell him it’s Signal 'Holy Horseapples'!”

“What?!”

“Well, we never actually agreed on this one, but I bet he’ll get the pun.”

II. A Meeting At Top Level

“…Hmpf! ‘Rulers of neighbouring state’! Did you see that – ‘neighbouring’! I wonder if that's subtle mockery, or an honest slip-up, and I find it pressing to decide what's actually worse!”

“It could be a meaningless mistake on their part, nothing more - don’t you think?”

“Yeah, Abe, it’s just a sort of template commonly used in missives such as this. Of course she’s aware we cannot actually make contact, she – erm, I mean, they probably just put it in without, well, without giving it much thought. That’s just too much drama over a small thing, you’re making mole-hills into mountains!”

“Oh, really, am I? Do you two even believe it yourselves? I’d say – when a person of her position so casually mentions something like that, it’s anything but small or meaningless!..”

The huge, furious sun of winter midday hung low above the city. Northern winds had blown away any remaining cumulus, leaving it to blaze alone in the serene sky; it appeared to be even closer and larger than usual, flooding the heavenly dome with an angry shine and drowning out its natural blue color. The sparkling, snow-covered ground responded in turn, bristling with spikes of reflected light, as if trying to force back an unwanted gift. Upwards and downwards rays blended together, creating a strange, ubiquitous illumination that permeated every recess and corner.

This cold, shiny, eerily shadowless world was almost painfully bright to look at. It was especially noticeable from inside the large, dimly lit circular chamber located just beneath the administrative building’s spire. At the time, direct view of the sun was obstructed by the ceiling; and though the room practically lacked walls, its perimeter completely made up of tall windows and narrow pillars in-between them, a good share of the diffused light was filtered out both by the tinted photochromic glass and by a layer of dust piled up on its surface.

That’s why the figures of men and women seated at the long, oval table were standing out as darkened silhouettes against the lustrous background. The shadow on their faces made their expressions somewhat difficult to read. Perhaps that was exactly what the designers of this conference hall were aiming for. Still, there could be little doubt about the emotions of a man who currently held the letter. One did not need to be a mime expert to read acute irritation and resentment off his face.

Snorting, he threw the offending paper back on the table and glared fiercely at the duo he'd been talking to. One, a blonde man in a classic business suit, apparently was unfazed by the spectacle; the other, a tawny woman with distinct Asian features, was muttering something under her breath, likely trying to invent a counterargument. As she didn’t come up with any, the man sighed and turned to face Frank, who was occupying the top of the table.

“You do understand that’s going to get us in all kinds of trouble pretty soon? Pray tell, there is no way we could… somehow… ignore this?”

“You know we can't, Abraham,” a different voice spoke up. “They’re coming no matter what we think or do about it. However, the - errrmm - conditions may differ.” The youngest man in the group threw a quick inquiring look at the Administrator and, having received an affirmative nod, went on:

“But what's more important, we need answers badly, and we need them first-hand... or hoof.”

He left his chair and began strolling along the table. “For instance,” he extended his arm theatrically, ”why does the commonly so-called ‘thaumaturgical radiation’ only emerge around the Barrier, while normal unicorn magic – including that utilized by the Serum – has proven to be completely harmless to humans? Why is it lethal to humans exclusively? Why has the expansion of the Barrier retarded? Could it speed up again at some point? I'm not ashamed to admit that even with the recent valuable…” he gestured towards an elderly man in military uniform “…additions to the team, my Research Division is still heavily lacking in knowledge of both inter-dimensional geometry and magic to properly approach these questions. But we need them answered if we are to have any chance in this race against time. And if someone at all can give us these answers, that would be the Equestrian Sisters. Well, that is, provided you don’t have a copy of the WG archive stashed under your bed, Abe.”

Having finished his walkaround, the scientist came to a stop beside his own chair. Leaning against the table, he tapped his fingers on the smooth plastic surface. “And then there's the million credit question, of course,” he glanced over the assembly. “Do the Princesses have a way of vectoring the Barrier, or do they not?”

“You sound like there's a way to compel them into holding it back, Karl, even if they could”, the Asian woman chimed in, sarcastically grinning her radiant teeth.

“Well, there might be.” Abraham waved a finger in the air. “By the way - why the change of heart, dear Isra? Weren’t you just protecting these two decent diarchs against my unjustified attacks?”

“I was not.” She brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. “What I was trying to say is that I don’t think they would bother either harming or helping us… without some solid reasons for it.”

“Oh, I think we could give them quite a few!”

“Why not try talking them into it first?” Frank interjected, knitting his brow quizzically. “I'm honestly marvelled to hear that from you, Abe. It'd be more understandable if the General over here brought it up…” He glanced at the military man, who appeared to be thoroughly studying the surface of his forage cap. “That's if they really can control the Barrier, of course. If they can't, there's no point in wasting time.”

Silence reigned in the room for a short time, only to be ruined when another person decided to join in the conversation.

“I’ve been thinking, about what Isra said earlier…” That immediately earned a heads’ turn. The man in a classic business suit wasn’t exactly the most talkative member of the gathering. In part, his tenseness owned itself to him still being new to this kind of sessions. That day, he’d been mostly silent as usual, only making a brief remark during Abraham’s rant. Now he apparently had something to say.

“I agree with her on that, all else being equal, the Princesses would’ve rather left us alone. The important question is, what exactly did we do to draw their attention? Ladies, gentlemen - any sensible guesses?”

Karl, with his head drooping, was nipping at his chin pensively; Isra gave a visible shrug. “It’s kinda written there, in the letter… isn’t it?”

“Now you’re going to buy that slipshod excuse about news coming late, aren’t you,” muttered Abraham. “Right now, mind you, there’s one of them sitting just a few kilometres from us.”

“The colt at the Bureau? He isn’t here exactly to monitor us, you know. Besides, he’d never…”

“Listen, he might be a very nice little guy and all, but we don’t know what his job actually obliges him to do. I’d be much surprised if he doesn’t have to report on things that could catch Celestia’s attention, at the very least - and if he does, then we have no idea how is he balancing between us and them and... whatever he personally feels like doing.”

Frank could very well see where this was going, and opted to quickly put an end to this conversation:
“Abe, you’re strolling off topic. There’s no need to educate us on your mistrust of ponies, we’re all aware of it quite enough. Other ideas anyone’d like to share?”

“..This still doesn’t cancel the fact that it’s been whole seven month since we ‘established’ anything, you know,” stubbornly muttered Abraham.

To his left, Frank could hear some rustling, squirming and quiet coughs. He sighed mentally and partly closed his eyes. Even if hadn’t been here the whole time, even if he had been blind, he could easily tell who it was. Strangely enough, she had always been so confident and composed in a dialogue, yet she always needed extra time to rally her thoughts when addressing more than a couple of men.

“Ahmm – actually,” Maria began half-heartedly, “I’ve been wondering about the same thing as soon as I read the letter. And I had that opportunity earlier than anybody else here except Frank, so, before the meeting, I took the time to skim through our journal of major events…” she trailed off.

“So?” the man in business suit pressed on.

“It is a bit funny you were the one to bring up this question, because the reason they contacted us now and not earlier likely is… well, it is you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, I’m quite positive it’s you, Daniel – or, rather, your recent appointment as the first member and representative of Supreme Court. They… They needed some sort of confirmation that we aren’t just a dictatorship that upholds order at a point of the sword, I think. ”

“Really?” he inquired dryly. “You know, if the Princesses were paying such close attention to our politics, I’d expect them to be aware of the terms ‘State of Emergency’ and ‘Martial Law’. And of the implications they bring, and how the latter doesn’t bode well with law per se.”

“Daniel…” She now sounded almost apologetic. “Perhaps it isn’t so much about your current duties and status as it is about our intentions. They’ve decided we deserve to be spoken to, at least.”

“I suppose we should be flattered, but still, I highly doubt they'll simply tell us all we want to know.” Dashpots squeaked plaintively as Abraham leant back into his chair, arms crossed on his chest in a skeptical manner.

“Well, actually there's a chance they just might,” chuckled Frank. “I'll do my best to make use of the conversations we're about to have."

“Now wait a minute. Did I just hear that you're hoping to outsmart the two beings, each of whom has more years of experience than all our lifetimes combined? ” the man rolled his eyes.

“That's exactly why Frank won't be alone at this.” The man in uniform spoke up, finally letting go of his headgear. “We'll have a team of best psychologists study their every word, every move, every gesture…”

“Your specialists must have an extensive knowledge of equine gestures, Alex,” someone chortled in the background.

“Don't call me that!” snarled the officer. He quickly looked around and then, failing to identify the speaker, finished in a previous calmer tone: “Sometimes, the hidden is more obvious than the revealed.”

“So it'll be… quantity versus quality?” questioned Abraham.

“Like it's often been the other way around,” Alexander grumbled dimly. Maria gave him a sympathetic look.

“Anyway, we’re bound to give it a shot,” summed up Frank. “This Equesrtian embassy is a milestone – it could be either a turning point for the better, or the beginnings of a disaster. We must do our best to prevent the latter. And in no small part that depends on the impression we’ll make – so put away your emotions for a time, will you? Any objections?”

Indeed, though one could hear a few unamused murmurs – not a single one came from Abraham, surprisingly – but no objections were openly voiced.

The sun was already long past its highest point in the sky, now casting soft, yellowish rays through the dusty windows, when the assembly decided to make a break for dinner. Driving through the elevator’s doorway, the autonomous tray announced its arrival with a soft ding.

Isra was the first to stand up and approach the wheeled robot. However, she quickly returned to the table looking rather perplexed. “Boy and girls, look what the kitchen brings us today.” The thing lying on her plate was most similar to a brown-greyish brick; applying some fantasy, one could imagine it was an oversized piece of fudge. That was just another proof of how deceiving good looks can be.

“Oh, these,” cringed Karl. “Can't say I missed them for an instant. Seriously, what the hell, Sheng?”

The man he was addressing had already rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and was operating an implant on his left forearm.

“Well, I can't control every single storehouse, but food supply levels should be okay… At least they were this morning,” he said with a puzzled look.

“Actually, I am the reason why we're not receiving any normal food for dinner,” admitted Maria. “Everybody's getting these, protein cocktails and synthesized meat starting tomorrow, except for the Equestrians when they arrive. Sorry for issuing directives over your head, Sheng.”

“I'm not actually offended… But why?” he shook his head, clearly surprised.

“It’s been part of the agreement,” said Frank. “Right… at the time you weren’t here yet. The problem is, we still have no idea how will the Princesses react to our partners on that side of the Barrier. Neither do they, apparently – when the deal was struck, we were warned in advance that if the Princesses were to discover we’re getting produce from Equestria, they want no part of this. Can’t blame them for their discretion…” he explained. “Anyway, we're temporarily cutting all contacts until we can test the grounds and decide if Celestia is okay with the idea. If she is not… actually, from now on, consider nothing like that ever happened. I’ve made some preparations to pass our stock for a result of several one-time actions, if needs be, but even if she sees through this, we’d better take a little blame, but not give away the true origin of our supplies.”

“The things I have to put up with…” sourly uttered Abraham, unenthusiastically pecking at his briquette.

“You know, Mary has sacrificed more than you have, Abe!” laughed the Administrator. “She's switching to coffee substitutes from now on!”

The joke relaxed the gloomy atmosphere a bit.

“So, I believe there're just a few minor matters left to discuss for now. Let's start with transportation,” Frank gestured at the Chinese man. “Sheng, I believe that's your area of expertise.”

“Aren't they arriving by their own means?”

“Only up to the airfield, Sheng. Then it's up to our side. I'm pretty sure Celestia and Luna could've just teleported in, but they stated they'll be bringing some other ponies along. I guess it'll be something more conventional, then - though I'll try to clarify this in our further correspondence - and they wouldn't like to split up from the rest of the group. So... try to think of something appropriate that can move.”

“A usual car won't do? The ponies have… I mean, they would fit in just fine.”

“Please,” Frank glared at him. “No more slip-ups like that in the future. And you're forgetting the size difference.”

“Well excuse me, but not everybody here has had the privilege to see the Princesses with their own eyes. It's not easy to judge by the holorecords, it almost seems like their size is… inconstant.”

“It is, believe it or not.”

“Oh, right,” he glanced at Karl. “You probably have it all documented, don’t you. So tell me, how big are we talking about, at max?”

“Think of a normal horse, but...”

“Never seen one, either.”

“Okay, she’s… maybe one-fifth taller than me, horn included.”

“Thank you very much, but passenger compartments are not normally measured in ‘Karls’.”

“Ahhh - fine then!” The scientist jumped to his feet, extending his arm to the holoprojector hanging overhead. The device’s bulb-shaped emitter began to glow with a soft, pearly white. As a glowing cube began to form in front of him, Karl took a few more steps back, allowing him to lower both his head and hands while still keeping a line of sight with the emitter. His fingers began to move, tracing complex curves with swiftness and grace of a practiced skill. The semi-transparent display projected into air was so small that one could barely see glimpses of file managers, terminal windows, worksheets and company logos as they were trading places, like colored bits of glass in a swirling kaleidoscope. After a few minutes, satisfied with the result at last, he made a pushing gesture, and the miniature shape began to glide towards the table, multiplying in size along the road. Upon reaching the chamber’s center, it became large enough for everyone to see that the image portrayed a human figure and three silhouettes of a winged and horned equine side-by-side, complete with a measuring scale.

“I still took the liberty to model the human after myself, if you don’t mind,” Karl clarified flatly. He waved his hand a little, forcing the image to rotate towards Sheng. “Good enough?”

“Wow, that’s… pretty big,” he replied, eyeing the picture. Indeed, even if one did not take the long, pointed horn into account, the crown of the smallest equine would be just below Karl’s chin level. As for the tallest figure, though the difference in size wasn’t all that significant, one would probably have to tilt his head backwards a little to look it in the eye. “Who’s who, by the way?”

“They’re all Celestia. The biggest one is based on a photo of her meeting with a WorldGov diplomatic mission, three month after Equestria’s emergence. The smallest was taken from a video feed of her partaking in a joint effort to quell public disorder in Atlanta. And the one in the middle corresponds to Celestia’s latest sighting that we were able to get a picture of, namely her appearance after the PER attack at São Paulo.”

“Well, one way or another…” Sheng screwed up his left eye, counting the graduations. “Now I really don’t think a car would work. I mean, she’d probably fit in if she really wanted to, but it’s like offering a chair that’s too tall to sit at a table. No reason to do that if we don’t want to offend them. So... Should I begin bringing the monorail branch to the airfield back online?”

Alexander shook his head; Frank lifted his palm in an arresting gesture. «I think it’s a little bit too attractive as a target for sabotage. The Black Wednesday at Barcelona – you remember?”

Abraham, Isra and Daniel nodded almost synchronously. “We’d better stick to wheeled vehicles.”

“Well, then… The best I currently can think of, aside from trucks, is a city bus.”

“You must be kidding!” several voices merged in unison.

“No I'm not. If we use just its chassis, remove all the railing and most of the seats, there will be plenty of room inside. It has a high ceiling, which is crucial, and the doorframes are tall enough, too.”

“Then please,” said Frank, “make sure it doesn't even remotely look like a city bus by Tuesday, either on the inside or the outside. And, speaking of safety…”

“I'll provide the reinforced plating and armored glass,” nodded Alexander.

"Okay, I suppose that's enough talking for today. Thanks everybody, and now - dismissed, you know what to do." Men and women began to rise from their seats. "Karl, stay with me for an extra minute, please." The scientist halted and turned around. The Administrator walked in close to him.

“How much time do we need?” he asked quietly, after a brief pause.

“Why, didn't we all agree that five days is enough to prepare everything?”

“That's not what I'm talking about, Karl!”

“Oh, right,” he rubbed his forehead. “Well, I suppose it should be about eight to ten years to finish the initial preparations, and no less than six years more if we’re leaving no one behind - at least this is what Indrik said last time. That's assuming everything goes smoothly and without a hitch. But it won't. And besides, you don't want to hear his estimation of risks if we are going to rush the project like that.”

“So…” Frank staggered for a couple heartbeats. “How much do we have, then? Your guess?”

“If the Barrier moves at its registered speed minimum, that should be some forty years from now. However, you understand we'll run into difficulties as soon as it starts creeping into our territory, so... discount about five years more. Thirty-five years – that's the best case scenario. Not a very likely one, though - E-dimension has been known to advance in fits and starts in the past. The steady movement we currently observe is but a last couple of years’ trend.”

“And the worst case is?”

“…Four years. Provided that the Barrier expands no faster than it used to in the first several month of emergence, which is a rather bold assumption on our part. ”

“Four years, damnit,” whispered Frank. ”And we need twice as much, at the very least!”

“There's always a different solution… you remember,” dubiously added the scientist.

“And you remember what I said about it last time.” Frank dejectedly shook his head. «It’s about as bad as Conversion. Hell, it is Conversion; it just adds a twist to it. That's not what everybody out there,” he waved a hand in the direction of windows, “expects from us. That just won't do.” Stooping, he returned to his chair. "Thanks anyway. That's all for now, Karl".

A big thanks goes to Zobeid, who agreed to pre-read this text and give some critical advice. Without his aid, this chapter would’ve been worse than it is :)