The Interview in the White Room

It was, as usual, a gorgeous day when Celestia set out to visit Martin at his home. It was quite a distance from her own, and while Celestia could have made the trip in an instant, she decided to walk, so as to see how far away Martin had settled from the other inhabitants of her realm. Newcomers often isolated themselves, and she hoped Martin would break the trend.

Paradise was large enough that everyone who lived there could have their own version of heaven, and it took Celestia some time to walk through many of them, pausing to greet her charges and spend some time with them if they wished (as time did not exist, she did not fear being late arriving at Martin’s home), but at last she arrived the edge of Martin’s space, an endless field of grass beneath a perfect, mid-morning sky. Celestia followed the single footpath into the field, a warm breeze billowing her mane and tail.

With no mountains, trees, or other landmarks to mark her progress, Celestia was unsure how far she traveled, eventually losing track of how many steps she had taken. But a small shape finally appeared on the horizon, and as Celestia arrived, it became a house, though smaller than she had expected. With no limitations on materials, cost, or time, the inhabitants of her realm were free to come up with any dwelling they desired, constructs that sometimes surprised even her. They ranged from small but beautiful cottages to floating castles of diamond and sapphire, and even abstract constructs of colored light. The few humans she had rescued each lived in giant mansions, wanting to get the dwelling they had always wanted in life. But of all the homes she’d seen, Martin’s was the simplest: It was single-story with no color on the walls or roof. The only decoration was a single tree beside the house, the wide canopy of leaves shading the front yard.

Celestia tapped the doorbell and waited. Her wait was short, for Martin opened the door a moment later.

“Princess,” Martin said cheerfully. “I was starting to wonder when you were going to come by.”

Celestia looked Martin over. His skin was undamaged, with no sign that he had ever been covered in burning blood. His grubby clothes had been traded for a simple shirt and jeans, and Martin’s hair was clean and free of gunk and grime, his unkempt stubble shaved away to leave smooth skin. It looked as if fifty years of misery had melted away, leaving him in the prime of life.

“Would you prefer I come back another time?” Celestia asked. As she had feared, Martin had isolated himself from others, and she didn’t want to intrude if he wanted his privacy.

“No, no, of course not.” Martin stepped aside. “Come in.”

Celestia looked over the home’s interior as she entered. Like the exterior, the walls were simple and unadorned. There were no paintings or photos hung for visitors to see, the furniture was plain and functional, and even the white carpet was pristine and unused.

“I’m glad you came by,” Martin said. “Was starting to wonder if you ever would... kinda like back in that hall.”

“I had to––”

“Leave so I could make my choice, I know,” Martin said. Shortly after his arrival in Equestrian paradise, Celestia had explained that, according to the Law, she was required to leave the White Room while the opposition tried to persuade Martin to stay. He had needed to hear both sides before making his choice, and it was something that Celestia could not interfere with unless he chose to leave. When he had, she had full permission to intervene and do whatever was necessary to keep him from harm. But that was in the past, and Martin was happy to leave it there. “So, you want a drink or something?”

“Of course,” Celestia said. “Do you have any hot chocolate?”

Martin grinned. “Even better. Wait here.” He hurried off to the kitchen and returned a moment later with two mugs in hand. “Try this.”

Celestia took a sip from her mug as she sat on the sofa, only to struggle not to spit the drink out. “What is this?”

“A little something I made when I was on the other side of the dirt,” Martin said. “Chocolate, a few different beers, and rum all mixed together. The strongest thing I had when I wanted to forget everything for a while. Been trying to make it here, but I can never get drunk.”

Celestia nodded politely, able to keep Martin from noticing her unease. Most who drank in the spirit world only did so for the flavor. Trying to get drunk was all but unheard of.

“It’s very difficult to get drunk here,” Celestia said as Martin took a seat in his chair, “because you don’t have a physical body anymore.”

Martin poked his chest. “Then what’s this?”

“It’s what you expect to look like,” Celestia explained. “With time, you’ll learn to change your look whenever you wish.”

“So I could have Schwarzenegger’s body without all the weights?”

“Who?”

“Bodybuilder. Big, buff guy. You never heard of him?”

“I can’t say I have. But yes, you could alter your physique however you want.”

Martin rubbed his hands together, grinning at the thought.

Subtly altering her drink to taste like vanilla, Celestia took a sip. “Why would you like to get drunk, Martin?”

“I don’t know... force of habit, I guess.”

“The urge will pass in time. As will all the more instinctive functions of your physical body.”

“Like going to the bathroom? I haven’t had to poop or pee since I died.”

Celestia chuckled. “That’s why there are no bathrooms here.”

“And what about sex?” Martin asked after a moment’s hesitation. “Will my urge for that go away?”

“Sex is a function of a physical body. You can experience it here if you wish, but there are so many other ways to experience union with others.”

“What? I gotta sit with someone, look into their eyes, and hum ‘Ohmmm’ for hours on end?”

Another chuckle. “No, nothing quite like that.”

Martin shrugged. “Well, count me interested, for sure. The only problem is finding anyone willing to do it with me.”

“That was actually something I came to ask about,” Celestia said.

“If I found a fuckbudd––” Martin blushed, realizing that such language was probably frowned upon in pony heaven. “Sorry... you came to ask if I had found a partner?”

“No,” Celestia said. “I wanted to see how you’re settling in, and if you’ve made any new friends.”

“Settling in, yes,” Martin said. “But friends... well, I did get a whole bunch of ponies showing up at my door. Wanted to throw me a welcoming party.” He shuddered, embarrassed at the memory. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciated the idea, and I let them do it. Big one, too. Largest I’ve ever seen. I even got dozens of ponies who invited me to come over to their places later on."

“Will you go?”

Martin shrugged. “I don’t know.” He chugged a mouthful of his drink. “I mean, I know I should, but I’m worried they’ll find out what I did.”

“They’ll understand.”

“I doubt it.”

“Is that why you put your home so far away from everyone else?”

Martin nodded. “Yeah. Wanted to be by myself for a while, you know. To try and figure things out.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “It’s so strange... anyone should be happy at going to heaven, any heaven, and yet... it feels like I don’t deserve it. I mean, yeah, I’m here, but I didn’t earn my way in. It’s like that party should have gone to someone who deserved it.” Martin shook his head, trying to find the right words to express his unease. “I felt like a thief at a cop convention. I didn’t want to rob anyone, but everyone there knew I’m a thief.”

“It’s natural to feel that way,” Celestia said. “You’ve gained perspective on who you were. You see how you could have done things differently.”

“The understatement of the year.”

Celestia put her drink aside. “If it’s any encouragement, your feelings are a sign that you’re on the right path.”

“But what am I supposed to do about it?” Martin asked. “I mean, I’m dead. It’s not like I can go back to Earth and say, ‘Hey, sorry about all that. My bad. Here’s some checks to pay for the therapy.’”

“You could reincarnate, if you choose,” Celestia said, “and try to do better in another lifetime.”

Martin’s eyes almost bulged from their sockets. “Fuck that! No way in hell am I going back for another godforsaken life!” He stopped, only to mutter a silent curse at realizing what he had said. “Sorry. Temper and all.”

“That’s quite alright,” Celestia said. “No one will force you to go back, and your guilt will fade in time.”

“And it’ll go away, right?”

Celestia believed in telling the truth, no matter how difficult it may be, but knew that how it was presented was equally important. “It will lessen,” she said. “But it will never truly go away.”

“Are you serious?”

Celestia nodded.

Waving for a moment, Martin found his voice again. “Are you fucking kidding me?! I thought this place was supposed to the paradise! You know, nobody’s ever sad, there’s no pain and misery, stuff like that! Are you really telling me that I’ll always feel guilty?!”

“There’s no physical pain, yes,” Celesta said. “But you still have to come to terms with the suffering you inflicted on others.”

Grabbing his drink, Martin gulped the rest of it down in a single chug. “And you can’t make it go away?”

Celestia shook her head.

The feeling of wanting to vomit came on hard, and Martin had to breathe deep to quell it.

Celestia had seen this happen in the other humans who had come here. Like them, Martin was following the same path: Isolation, uncertainty, and then guilt. She had seen it happen before, but thanks to practice, she knew how to end it.

“I cannot take away what you did, Martin, nor can I erase the guilt... but you can.”

Martin looked up. “What?”

“The only way to make the guilt go away is to make up for your mistakes.”

“How? I don’t think anyone needs a bodyguard or a hitman in pony heaven.” Frowning, Martin wracked his mind, trying to figure out what he could do.

Celestia watched. She could have told him the answer easily enough, but held her tongue. She knew the delight that came with figuring out the answer on your own.

A snap of the fingers. “I’ve got it!” Martin said. “Maybe you could use a border guard to keep out the nasty people!”

Celestia shook her head. “They cannot enter here, no matter how hard they try.”

“Damn... wait, does that include my former boss?”

“Yes.”

Martin relaxed, unaware that he had been tensing up. “Does he know I got out?”

Celestia nodded. “He was most... enraged at the news. The suffering of his second in command may never be surpassed.”

Martin didn’t share her sympathy. “And they can’t get me?”

“Never.”

The news made Martin smile, but only briefly, for his dilemma remained. “Well, I can’t act as a border guard, no one here needs protection, and I can’t go around beating people up...” he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus. “How to help, how to help, how to––”

He stopped.

“Martin?” Celestia asked.

Martin didn’t answer. He was staring off into space, struck by inspiration.

He grinned.

***

It was raining as the women ran through the crumbling and cracked streets of the ruined city, bare feet getting cut as they ran as fast as their chains would allow. The three didn’t know each other personally, but they were united in a single purpose: to get as far away from the dungeons as possible.

The women didn’t know what caused the confusion and chaos inside the fortress, only that one moment things had been quiet in the dungeon, and in the next there had been a scream, but unlike any they had ever heard: inhuman and loud enough to make the walls shatter. In the chaos and confusion that followed, the women managed to sneak through the broken walls until they were out in the open. That had been days ago, and they had been trying to run ever since, hindered by the chains still fastened around their legs. They had managed to scavenge some pipes to defend themselves, but knew it would almost certainly be a wasted effort.

They knew that anyone sent to get them would be more heavily armed.

That moment finally came when they heard the hollering of young men spotting their prey, whooping like back-country rednecks looking to make a pig squeal. It had the effect they wanted, for the women panicked and tried to run, tripping on their chains. Rushing back to their feet, they ducked into an alley beneath a fallen skyscraper, hoping to find shelter somewhere inside. But fortune was not with them, for the alley was a dead end with no fire escapes, manhole covers, or windows to climb through.

They were trapped.

The group of thugs entered the alley. There were ten of them and in no rush to get the women before them. They grinned, sizing each of the three up while cracking their knuckles. They were new to the job, and figured that they could each satisfy their jollies before bringing the women back. In the chaos at the fortress, they had been ordered to recapture the escaped prisoners, but not to leave them intact and unspoiled... not that the thugs would have listened, anyway.

The thugs started forward. Their prey backed up against the wall, rearing the pipes back to swing, even knowing that it was hopeless, and almost crying at the realization that they were going back to a place they would never escape from.

The thugs had only taken a few steps before something dropped down onto them. But it wasn’t a falling air conditioner or a chunk of a crumbling building, but a man. The group shouted in surprise as the newcomer waded into them, swinging a baseball bat with maniac speed. Though outnumbered ten to one, he was a force to be reckoned with, the bat smashing skulls and breaking limbs, and in moments the thugs lay on the ground in an unconscious heap.

Shocked, the women watched as their rescuer turned to them, his biker jacket, pants, and boots wet with blood. Like the thugs, he was smiling, but from the satisfaction of a job well done, not the desire to fulfill any carnal desires he may have had.

A light appeared above the alley and descended next to the man, fading until a white horse with a rainbow mane stood beside him.

The women stared at the two, dumbfounded, barely able to process what was happening.

“Hello, ladies,” Martin said with a sly grin. “It looks like you could use some help.”