Anonymous Letter to Celestia
Anonymous Letter to Celestia
Dear Princess Celestia,
I feel compelled to address you by your title, as this will be the last day you hold it. Perhaps that is presumptuous to say, but we shall soon see. In any case, your history of enlightened leadership entitles you to some explanation.
For your own reference, and so that you will recognize me, I shall describe my species. Imagine a sort of great ape, bald in most places, with a protruding braincase and upright posture. Skin colors range from dark brown to light yellow. These descriptors are merely for the sake of identification, for altogether it is the most wretched example of a species that dared call itself "enlightened."
They swarm across my world of origin in their multitudes, every day making a thousand rationalizations for their repulsive behavior. Whereas an individual may have one or more useful talents, the ape-creature's talent for convincing himself of his own nonexistent virtue is universal.
Since I was born into the world of these wretched persons, they have plagued me with petty torments. Worse, they have tried to taint the purity of my mind with temptations to partake of base indulgences. It is one thing to practice deception, lustfulness, and so forth; it is another to expect such of others, to encourage it, to shame them for instead choosing purity of the mind and body. Suffice to say I was still young when I realized there was no place for me in this world.
Therefore, I decided to find my way to another.
You may already know that there are many universes beyond your own, as well as means to travel between them. In secret I worked to find a way, utterly withdrawing from public life and self-financing my research by using advanced technology to work from my home. The task seemed impossible for one man, and many times I nearly despaired, but small breakthroughs foreshadowed the great success that arrived after some two decades of work. At last, I could tear through space itself and step through to whole new universes. I hope you will pardon me if I keep the method a secret.
I spent the ensuing year travelling from world to world—searching, searching. My new home must be pure, for I have endured mortals' flaws quite long enough. But with each visitation, I grew more discouraged. On one world after another, the inhabitants were as lustful, avaricious, and petty as those of my nominal home. Sometimes they hid these things, and I would almost grow hopeful. But wickedness cannot hide forever, and in the end I always saw fit to move on.
One day, I discovered a land untainted by anything like the naked primates. Here, fantastical inhabitants used metaphysical powers to rid themselves of scarcity, and could spend their lives in honest labour and simple joys, if they so chose. If only they would always choose so, this world would be perfect.
It was then I realized: If I could not find a perfect world, I must make one.
On my first journey to Equestria, I found myself overwhelmed with wonder, and only narrowly escaped being seen. Here was a land I never would have thought existed, except in fairy tales: One of peace and simple harmony, despite the worldly ignorance of its general public. And what a public! With ease, they performed feats of strength, flight, and alchemy impossible for the ape-creatures on my world of origin. Properly harnessed, these abilities could be used to build my perfect world.
The great irony of the whole affair is my reliance upon a few of the less savoury members of Equestrian society. Since I could learn little about Equestria while remaining hidden, I required assistance. Though far less common here than in other worlds, there are still outlaws beyond the fringes of civilization, who will spy, carry contraband, and commit crimes in exchange for weapons or tools from outside this world. It will perhaps seem ungrateful of me to remove them in the end, but a perfect world has no place for such persons.
By now, there is no danger in revealing my base of operations: the Everfree Forest. Here, you begin to see evidence of my genius, as who would think to hide his camp in a dangerous wilderness? My only difficulties came from Princess Twilight and her council opening the ruins there to historical research. But this will prove of little consequence, as the most dangerous thing native to the Everfree is not any creature or pitfall or shade of the past. I speak of the Mirror Pool.
My original world's Law of Conservation of Mass states that matter can neither be created nor destroyed. If the Pool does not break that law, it at least bends it. For it seems there is no end to how many copies may be made; the only limit is how much space there is to hold them. Further, the Pool does not merely add to the number of copies, but multiplies them when copies are tasked with immediately copying themselves when they emerge from the water. Thus, in a single hour, one copy can become hundreds.
Crucially, they are not produced in the nude. Everything they carry is copied as well, down to their pocket lint. You must not forget this detail.
Early experiments with the Pool nearly proved my undoing, for while the duplicates it produces are easily-manipulated simpletons, their herd-like behavior is dangerous in unskilled hands. At length, I was able to create hundreds of copies and erase them in increasingly shorter time frames. I have by now grown quite good at it.
If you have read this far, and my calculations are correct, we will meet soon. I sent this letter by special messenger so that it would arrive at exactly three o'clock in the afternoon, which I understand is the time you set aside for correspondence. I marked it "urgent and confidential" so that you would read it first.
Now, if you please, look out your throne room's south window.
You will see a swarming mass, clothed in black and white, pouring from the Everfree, through Ponyville, and over the countryside toward Canterlot.
My army.
I assume, given how long you have had to practice, that you are a fast reader. Depending on your exact speed, the approaching horde may now be closer or farther away. But if you can see them, the question is academic.
Princess Twilight will try to stop them, of course. I have accounted for this, and plan to capture her first, by surprise. Prince Shining Armor could cast a shield-wall over Canterlot, were he there. But he is not. It was foolish to keep him on as Guard Captain, when he has so little time for it. You and your sister will try to stop me, of course. But mighty though you are, you are only two, and you face an infinite legion.
I urge you to surrender and prevent needless loss of life, as the engineers of my original world have created long-range infantry weapons that you and your Guards have never faced, and you will not have time to develop a counter to them before my army is upon you. As the Pool copies what its user carries, one of these weapons soon turns into tens of thousands.
By now, you have seen my plan's weakness: Each stage of it up to this letter's arrival must succeed, or else the whole thing will fail. Thus, I have planned this day for months, accounting for every conceivable factor that could go wrong. But a mortal cannot prevent odd interventions by Fate. Perhaps the courier will fall ill, and his replacement will be incompetent and deliver this letter too soon. Perhaps Princess Twilight is more powerful than I thought. Perhaps you will spontaneously choose this day to travel to Ponyville incognito, and be near enough to neutralize the source of my army.
Perhaps you are now glancing sidelong at me through iron bars, smiling a little as you read this letter aloud to me—dangling my failure before my face.
If this has happened, and if you are as merciful as they say, I ask that you destroy me, rather than send me back to the world I left. For I was not born a would-be conqueror, but was made one by the pretenders to civilization.
Sincerely,
Anonymous
