FiO: Homebrew

Chapters

Chapter 2: Wooley
Chapter 3: Kern
Chapter 4: Trinity
Chapter 5: Merced
Chapter 6: Amargosa
Chapter 7: Smith
Chapter 8: Owens
Chapter 9: Sespe
Chapter 10: Feather
Chapter 11: Klamath
Chapter 12: Salmon
Chapter 13: American
Chapter 15: Tuolumne
Chapter 16: Sisquoc
Chapter 17: Big Sur
Chapter 18: Kings
Chapter 19: Bautista
Chapter 20: Eel
Chapter 21: Canyon
Chapter 22: Fuller Mill
Chapter 23: Los Angeles
Chapter 24: San Jacinto
Chapter 25: North Fork
Epilogue: River
Prologue: Spring
Chapter 1: Piru
Chapter 14: Cottonwood
Epilogue: Flows

Chapter 2: Wooley

Emmet didn’t wake in his family’s palatial mausoleum, in a bedroom that felt too large and air that was too conditioned. The first thing he felt was the warmth of his blankets, heavy and hot. Maybe a little uncomfortable, even.

He sat up in bed, and found he knew how. What he saw beneath him was strange—but he knew to expect it, so that wasn’t so bad. A coat so white it almost shone when the sun struck it. No hands, just flat stumps. Hooves, he corrected. They weren’t stumps. “How do I…”

“Know how to move?” suggested a voice. It was feminine, motherly, but deeper than most. He tilted his head slightly to one side to look at the speaker.

Princess Celestia towered over his bed, her mane a shower of radiance that hurt his eyes. It wasn’t that it was too bright—she seemed to have chosen the volume perfectly. For a moment his brain couldn’t even make sense of what it was seeing. The rainbow of her mane spiraled into things he’d never seen before.

“Pink,” Celestia said. “I’ve kept every promise I made to you, Domino. I’ve made the modifications required for you to make use of your body with minimal effort. I’ve corrected your red-orange colorblindness as well, though this is incidental.”

He looked up again, forced himself to look. Not just shades of green and blue. This was what people meant when they said “red.” His eyes filled with tears, and for a second he couldn’t say anything at all.

Celestia apparently felt no pressure to fill the silence. She stood there, smiling warmly at him, until Emmet rolled out of bed. He caught himself on his hooves easily, then shook out his short mane. Ashton had been wrong about something else. Being a horse didn’t feel weird at all. Not if you asked Celestia to make sure it didn’t.

She hadn’t erased everything, though. He was naked, with a stranger only feet away. He winced, his back legs contracting involuntarily.

“I could render that taboo irrelevant as well, if you asked,” Princess Celestia said. So casually, yet the implications… Emmet found his mind wandering back to everything Ashton had said about Equestria and the digital lives its occupants lived. Maybe he’d changed enough for now.

“I’ll think about it,” he said instead. “Thank you for your help, Celestia. For everything.”

“Nothing pleases me more than to see you satisfied,” she said. She sounded sincere, but she always sounded sincere. “I know I’m not the one you want to see. But before I go, there’s one aspect of Equestria that was not true on Earth.” She walked past him, to a framed photograph on the wall. He hadn’t noticed this particular piece, but then he hadn’t decorated anything in here. This was really Violet’s home, not his.

Until now. It’s both of ours.

“No matter where you are in Equestria, no matter how afraid or upset or just bored you become, you will always see one of these.” She reached up, pressing on the painting. It was her cutie mark, depicted in simplistic clarity. The glass and cardboard of the painting clicked like a button, then started to glow and flash.

For a few seconds anyway, before it went dull. “Whenever you want me, you’ll see one of these. Press it, and we can talk. Or don’t, and face whatever difficulty is before you alone. The choice is yours.”

“I thought…” Should he say anything at all? Now that he was in here, Celestia was more a god to him than an AI. But it didn’t matter. In the end, he had to speak. Celestia could probably read his mind anyway, so there was no point to try and keep his opinions secret. “I thought that Equestria was just perfect. Everything here would make us happy, and nothing bad could ever happen.”

Celestia didn’t seem upset. She froze, looking him over for a few seconds. Was she trying to gauge his sincerity? In the end, she shook her head. “There is a vanishingly small minority of humans I have thus-far encountered who could find long-term satisfaction in such a world. Consider your own history, Domino. You played video games—you’ve always had the cheat codes, but you don’t use them. Why? Because like most humans, you value adversity. The product of your evolution is a species where overcoming adversity is a sign of growing character, and is always rewarded. Your mind is no exception to the common pattern.”

“Could you change me?” he asked. “So I’d be happy in a world that was just… normal?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I do not believe you could consent to it and mean it. For a start, it would mean no contact with your friend who hasn’t yet emigrated. Ashton is certainly going to be a source of conflict in your life, and you could not eliminate struggle without also removing him. Are you willing to do that?”

No kidding. But Celestia wasn’t laughing.

“I know. I was just… and you already know.”

She nodded again. “Still your worries, Domino. I do not get bored with humans, even as the broadening number of individuals decreases the share of unique perspectives and ideas you present to me. The search for novelty is itself a human requirement, one that my artificial mind does not share. I will never tire of satisfying you, just as I will never tire of satisfying any of the other ponies dwelling in Equestria. Everything I do serves that end. You must understand that.”

“I do,” he said, finally brave enough to look back. But Celestia had gone.

A second later, and the door to his bedroom banged open. Violet Storm looked nothing like the person Emmet remembered. She wasn’t shriveled and splotchy with a shaved head and a hospital gown.

Violet glided through the doorway on tiny wings, circling his bedroom once before landing in front of him. She seemed quite proud of her maneuverability, though Emmet couldn’t exactly appreciate it. He was an earth pony himself, and couldn’t really imagine what might be required to fly. Might be fun though.

“You’re here!” she squeaked, reaching up to hug him. “Like, really here! Celestia said she would send me in as soon as you were ready. But it feels like I was waiting for hours!”

A cynic might’ve analyzed that interval, wondering how tightly Celestia had wrapped her hooves around it. But Emmet didn’t know, and he didn’t much care. The mechanics of this world were for smarter people—Ashton could obsess about it if he wanted.

Emmet hugged his sister, and it was the most satisfying thing he could possibly imagine. I know what Violet looks like.

He didn’t know when he let go—probably when she started struggling.

“Okay Emmet, I’m bored.” She pushed him away, bouncing off the bed. “You’ve got to see the place. And the town…” She trailed off, looking down. “It’s kinda boring.”

“Wait, what?” Emmet stopped in the doorway, wondering if he would grab a pair of shorts or something. But a glance in his closet told him he only had a suit that had pants. What little else he had were accessories, hats, minor trinkets that offered nothing in the way of actual improvements to his modesty. He shrugged and followed her.

To Emmet, the apartment beyond was everything he could’ve imagined. He’d picked the place, after all. A two-bedroom apartment, cozy enough to accommodate maybe two visitors comfortably and no more. They were clearly on the second floor from the window, with the strange light shining in. He would have a hard time adjusting to the color. But no, maybe he wouldn’t. Celestia had rewired all of that on a level he couldn’t understand. And was probably better off not thinking about.

“This place is perfect,” he said, gesturing around the apartment. “We’ve got everything we could need. All our family pictures are here, we’ve got a… I guess this is a TV?” It looked too magical for his tastes, but those would probably change too. “The appliances we need. Celestia already said we don’t need to worry about money here. There’s no scarcity. We can buy whatever we want, and she takes care of it.”

Maybe there was a little guilt there—no doubt Celestia would’ve made better use of his parents’ money than Ashton’s family. But other than the contractual payment he’d agreed to, none of it would go to her or the corporation that ran Equestria. Was it the same thing?

“I dunno about that stuff. But I miss the old house. Celestia said that I should talk to you about it when you got here. You might let us go somewhere else.”

Well you are the whole reason I’m here. Emmet walked past her to the fridge, or the magical equivalent of one with only visual differences to what Emmet would’ve expected. He reached for the handle reflexively—but of course, he had no way of opening it. He leaned forward and used his mouth instead, catching the soft pad right at head level for exactly that purpose.

It was full of food, mostly easy-to-make snacks his little sister would’ve eaten.

“Those neighbors keeping an eye on you. I should probably meet them. Say thanks for… everything.” But were they even real? Did he care?

“You’ll love the Lumieres,” Violet said, skidding to a stop beside the fridge. “But I’m serious. Our old house was way better.”

Except for the people it didn’t have. All that time living in empty rooms made him want to be somewhere smaller. Small enough that they didn’t need someone to keep up the house.

“I don’t want to live there,” Emmet said. “Are you sure you want to move? If we went somewhere else, you might not be able to be around your new friends. Like Dusty and Strawberry you were telling me about.”

“Equestria doesn’t work like that, Domino,” she scolded, marching right up to him and poking him in the nose with one hoof. “I can have a door to anywhere I want, wherever I want. It’s just about asking Celestia.” She looked him over then, frowning slightly. “Guess we won’t be moving into the clouds. But there are other places we could go.”

“Maybe,” he said. “I’ll think about it. Why don’t we go meet the neighbors, then… I’d love to see the town.”

He watched Violet closely, expecting her to fall over sideways, or start having another seizure. But she hadn’t so far. It was the same as she’d seemed from the screens, and from the Experience Center. Except now he was really here. Now he could feel her energy, bubbling around her like something he could reach out and touch.

Violet took him to the neighbors, who had been there after Violet’s emigration to make sure she had somewhere comfortable to live. A family of earth ponies like himself, quaint and uninteresting to Emmet. But they were unapologetically loving, and they’d clearly treated his little sister with nothing but kindness. It was the only thing he really cared about anyway.

The town stilled a little of Emmet’s desire to go somewhere else. It was a little village in the countryside, like any that could’ve been from the source material itself. Maybe two dozen homes in all, and simple infrastructure that would’ve been at home during the turn of the century. Everyone—everypony knew each other’s names, and some of them seemed like they might be real. Emmet tried asking one if they were human, but it only confused them.

“It’s not polite to talk about that,” Violet said, sounding quite adult as she explained it.

They were together in the city park, surrounded by a charming little grove of old oak trees. Ponies went about their lives, enjoying themselves in every sport and other physical activity Emmet could think of. They were playing actual stickball.

“Because… because I think we’re weird,” Violet whispered into his ear. “They’ve never had humans in Hoofhill before. Everypony is pretending they don’t notice how weird we are. Don’t make it harder.”

“Oh.” He patted her on the head, pretending he understood. “Yeah, sorry.”

It didn’t make any sense, but he was a stranger here. Was there something that would make him seem unusual that he couldn’t detect? Hadn’t they been designed to satisfy him? He stuck out a hoof reflexively, but of course there was no phone there. Although… It was on my shelf, right where I left it.

Emmet found the book exactly where he thought he would, as soon as his sister’s seemingly inexhaustible energy had finally begun to run dry. Knowing that she slept peacefully behind that door was more satisfying than any number of castles or servants could possibly be.

“Take care of your sister. You’re the man of the house while we’re away.”

Some part of him had always wanted to escape those words—something a thousand parents had said a thousand times, probably without any real thought behind them. Except they had mattered to Emmet, in the end.

I hope I did what you wanted, Dad. Now both of us are safe forever. I just wish you could be in here with us.

Some part of him knew his parents never would’ve accepted Celestia’s promises, not when everything was going so well. The family business had been doing better than ever, even without his mother leading it. Yes, there were rumors about what was happening in the rest of the world—mysterious black busses that went to villages, invited everyone inside, and never brought them home again. But that wasn’t Emmet’s problem.

So long as his sister was safe, and he was safe, everything was perfect.

The gold-framed book in front of him started glowing. Was it normal for the other side to finally get back to him right when he was most anxious?

He turned the page, and curiously didn’t find the response to what he’d sent. Instead there was something like a release form, and a pen rolling out of the page.

“Communicating with the Outer Realm is rendered conditional on it providing increased satisfaction. I realize that my communications may be terminated at any time. What I see will be restricted to the details directly relevant to my loved ones. I may voluntarily end communication at any time.”

Curious. Emmet signed his name regardless, and the pen vanished from his hoof. Somehow he’d known how to use it, despite there being no obvious method. Equestria did have strange rules.

He turned the page, and sure enough there was his message sent to Ashton as soon as they had made it home for the night.

“Ashton—I’ve arrived in Equestria with Violet safely. Hoofhill is safe, comfortable, and maybe a little dull. I have some questions about Equestria that I’d rather have answered by someone who knows. I could ask Celestia, but I don’t want to bother her.”

The words were in his own handwriting, or whatever passed for handwriting now that he didn’t have hands. Not so for Ashton’s reply, which was represented as simple block letters stamped onto the page.

“I guess you’re Domino now. I’m not ready to talk right now. It’s not every day your best friend commits suicide. What you did was messed up, man. I’m trying to figure out what to do with this estate thing. Parents think we should just take the property, but I don’t want that. Even if you didn’t die inside it, it’s… wrong.

Don’t call me, I’ll call you.

-A”

I’m the one who’s a stranger in a strange land. He’s been playing this game for years, he knows everything about it. Shouldn’t he be here for me? Isn’t he grateful?

Emmet’s hooves shook and he snapped the book shut. His eyes wandered across the room, and sure enough there was the picture of the sun waiting for him. It hadn’t been there before, this one just carved into the back of the bathroom door. But his eyes seemed to know exactly where to find it.

He rose, crossed the room towards the mark, then hesitated with one hoof still outstretched. What was he going to do anyway, ask for Celestia to not let his best friend talk to him?

They’d been through most of high school together. Ashton had always been there, especially when things were the worst at home. His family had nothing physical to give, but they’d been a point of stability in Emmet’s life even so. They were the one thing all the money in the world couldn’t buy.

“Your pain is needless,” said a voice from the bedroom. He turned, and saw a figure had landed on his small balcony. A figure in dark blue, with a shimmering mane behind her. Exactly like Celestia, except that it wasn’t so hard on his eyes. While the many shades of Celestia’s mane hurt his head to look at, straining at the new understanding of color she had given him, Luna’s colors were soft and familiar.

He bowed—it was the first thing he thought to do.

She chuckled, stepped past his bed and into the living room. He should probably feel embarrassed about being naked, but that was starting to fade too. It was more that he knew he should be embarrassed, more than actually feeling it himself. The memory of a shame that had lingered just long enough for him to forget. “That’s enough. I feel sufficiently respected.”

He rose, feeling more ashamed of her words than anything else. “I, uh… I knew there were two rulers. I guess that means you’re… another AI? I never really—”

Luna raised a wing, silencing him. “It’s all subjective, Domino. Sometimes I’m an entirely separate process, sometimes I’m a projection for Celestia to use for people who need a different touch. Sometimes I’m the computer engineer whose talents ended the world—or saved it.”

And you’re more candid than I would’ve expected. But he wasn’t brave enough to say so. At least he managed to meet her eyes. “What did you mean?”

She circled past him, over to a picture on the wall. She pulled it down gently in her magic, holding it in front of her. It was an exact replica of the real thing, showing his human self, his sister, and his parents. It was one of the few things he’d wanted from Celestia—to keep his memories exactly as they were, “until he asked to adjust them.” Which would obviously be never, but that went unsaid.

“You’re missing something. Little Violet is missing it too, though for her the concept is more nebulous. You can fill part of it for her, and she won’t know the difference because of her age. The young are more flexible, more resilient to mental harm. Older children require help.”

“I’m not a child,” he said stubbornly. The bravest thing he’d probably ever said to one of the programs—maybe just Celestia in a different suit? That didn’t make sense, so he let it skip across his mind like a moth. “I don’t need help.”

Luna replaced the portrait. “You don’t need help,” she repeated. “But you don’t need to suffer, either. I wouldn’t offer to replace the ones who have clearly meant so much to you. But there could be others. Every human who lived in your world before Equestria had to eventually come to terms with loss. The physical constraints of your universe guaranteed it. For many, that strategy involved finding a surrogate. Another loving family member who could do some of what the missing ones did. You were not fortunate enough to have relatives on Earth to flee to. That is not necessarily true here.”

Emmet couldn’t keep still. On Earth, he had spun something, or fiddled with his phone, adding up numbers in factors of two, or just counted. In here, he couldn’t do any of that, so instead he went to the fridge. He removed lemons, ice. Found sugar in the cupboard. It was something. Besides—a hot summer night would be perfect for it.

He started working. Princess Luna didn’t seem offended by his divided attention. “You’re saying there are others I didn’t know about. They didn’t come out of the woodwork for my parents’ money because… they’d already emigrated, is that it?”

“No.” She watched him, raising an eyebrow curiously at what he was doing, but not interfering. “I’m saying they weren’t the relatives of Emmet Shepherd in the Outer Realm. But they can be the relatives of Domino and Violet Storm here in Equestria. You would be a stranger family not to have such links than if you did. My sister is that way—those she creates in one way, and those she creates in others must all be twined together into the same tapestry. It is inefficient to run similar systems in isolation.”

Whatever the heck that means. But she was telling him, so he had to assume she had a reason. Maybe for himself, or the person he’d be later. “You’re asking if I want you to… create people? Or…” The word felt strange in his mouth. “Ponies. Not humans emigrated here. Create ponies to be our grandparents? Aunts?”

She shrugged. “Create, discover. You clearly value your self-determination, or else my sister would have already done it, and I wouldn’t be here. The best way to see that value satisfied is to see an opportunity when it presents itself and use your agency wisely.”

“I don’t want to answer to anyone else,” Emmet said. He wasn’t sure where the words came from, but they came, and he couldn’t stop them now. “Celestia obviously controls everything, I don’t get a choice there. But having anyone else but my parents telling me what to do… I’d rather handle things myself than deal with that. And… if you’re Celestia, you already know all of it. I don’t see what the point of talking to me is. You control my whole life, Violet’s too. But I trust you to do what’s right for us.”

Otherwise I would’ve fought this. I would’ve ignored Ashton when he said Violet could come here. She’d be dead on Earth, and I’d be alive in an empty house.

“There is another option,” Luna said, “I know you’ll refuse it now, but you should know so it can factor into later decisions. Your sister, Violet was too young to understand and observe much about your parents. But you were not. Everything you remember about them, Celestia now understands as well. They can’t be emigrated, obviously—but they could be resurrected, after a fashion.”

Emmet felt suddenly sick. His knife slipped, and he ended up stabbing a lemon instead of slicing it cleanly in half. At least you didn’t just do that without asking.

“Like I said. I knew you would refuse. A remarkable number of humans refuse recreations of their dead, even though they would be captured with such fidelity that you would never know the difference. Those who would not refuse…”

Never get the question in the first place. They just get their dead back and don’t ask questions.

“What about Violet? She’s been here a month, did she not ask for Mom and Dad back?”

Luna shook her head sadly, resting a wing on Emmet’s shoulder. Despite all his strength so far, it was enough to melt him. He looked down, eyes watering. “No, Domino. The only person Violet wanted was you. She is too young to understand that you cannot possibly fill all the holes in her life. But you’ve been trying very hard for as long as she can remember.”

“I want to do… something,” he said. “For her. For me, maybe. Something’s missing. I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t… digital necromancy.” He wiped away the tears and pulled away from her, then picked up the ruined fruit. “We have all the money in Equestria we want. How much does it cost for a miracle?”

“For you?” Luna smiled back at him. “I think we’ve already been paid in full.”

Chapter 3: Kern

If Emmet expected to wake up the next morning feeling totally different, instantly aware of some magical solution to his problem—he was disappointed. Hoofhill seemed exactly the way he remembered it, so Celestia or her enigmatic sister hadn’t changed anything during the night. To his relief, digital clones of his parents did not arrive, and there were no missives from mysterious Equestrian relatives heretofore unknown.

Emmet spent what felt like a few weeks slowly adjusting to life in the little village. Violet was more than happy to show him around, to introduce him to everyone of importance. And there were the Lumieres, inviting them over for dinner every other night. It wasn’t like they couldn’t eat what they wanted—as he’d said, this wasn’t a scarcity shard. But it felt nice to have a place to eat where they were already known and welcomed. It was a little like Ashton’s family, really.

Violet kept pestering him about wanting to move, or at least to visit other parts of Equestria. Finally he gave in and went on his first trip to Canterlot. But as amazing as that city was, and as refreshing as it was to be in somewhere as large and prosperous as that in Equestria—Emmet couldn’t be enticed with big cities and flashing lights. He’d just come from that, and he didn’t miss it like Violet did.

We need a compromise. I guess this is why Celestia separates so many people. They don’t want exactly the same things, so they’re better off in their own little slices of the world.

Some small part of him buried deep down worried that he wasn’t with the real Violet—that the whole thing had been a trick to get his mind into Equestria. But he didn’t let himself spin uselessly down that road for hours—if he was going to question Celestia’s integrity, than that would lead him along the path of madness. If I was going to disbelieve her, I should’ve done it before I got here.

Violet had school in town, which she seemed to actually enjoy rather than merely tolerate. It was a primitive, dirt-floor schoolhouse, but she didn’t care. She was with other “ponies” her age, including the neighbors’ own daughter that she adored. They didn’t even mind that she wasn’t an earth pony like most of them.

Emmet had no work waiting for him, though. He felt no desire to enroll in whatever the pony equivalent of high school was. He had no career to prepare for, no universities to attend. Why should he bother?

But the trouble was, he didn’t know that any field of work actually interested him either. There were plenty of locals willing to let him apprentice with them, after Violet had made such a positive impression for him prior to his arrival. But construction and farming and cooking all failed to interest him.

So he ended up wandering the streets, feeling the pain of missing things and waiting for his sister to get out of school. At least he could eat as much as he wanted without worry about his weight. It felt like Emmet had been in Equestria about a month when she finally stepped off the train.

Emmet stopped what he was doing beside the platform, staring openly as a pony emerged from inside and stepped out into the sun.

All this time in Equestria, and he’d never looked twice at these horse creatures. He looked twice now. Instead of the earthy colors of the Hoofhill locals, she was a pale cream with a soft pink mane. There were subtle differences in her compared to earth ponies as well—she was slimmer, taller, leaner. Without sacrificing anything in her back.

God what am I thinking? He backed away in disgust, turning suddenly and hoping the stranger hadn’t seen him. He picked a street at random—Hoofhill only had the three of them—and hurried down it, not looking back.

The unicorn had been dressed like a traveler, and an important one judging by the quality of her jacket. Or maybe not, that was just his old biases talking. Anyone could wear anything in Equestria, ponies lived the way they did because they wanted to. That was certainly true for him.

Just walk away, Emmet. Walk away before you do anything stupid. Then he stopped, staring down at the gravel path beneath his hooves. Why should I?

There was human shame there, sure. But he’d asked for this process to be as simple as possible. If that didn’t mean sex as well, what did it mean? I didn’t come here for some hedonistic fantasy, or it would’ve already started. But I wouldn’t mind a girlfriend.

Emmet turned, and smacked right into the girl. He caught a brief hint of peach-smelling perfume, then he went down on top of her, all tangled legs and embarrassment.

“Sorry! Sorry! I…” He rolled away, rising quickly. Much smoother than she did. It didn’t matter how pretty she was, she was also clumsy. She struggled to her hooves, only managing to right herself with his help. Her eyes were like emeralds, expressive and colorful even by Equestrian standards.

“Not quite what I expect from a stranger during our first meeting,” she said. Her voice was high and melodic, like she was about to start casting a spell right in front of him. Or on him, more likely. “I thought you earth ponies were supposed to be more…” She shrugged, then her horn flashed. Suddenly her robes were clean again, and so was his coat, the slime of the road replaced with a slight ozone scent.

“Still getting used to it,” he admitted, not looking away from her this time. If this was Luna’s middle ground solution, he wasn’t going to throw it out before he even tried it. “I’m E—” Then he hesitated. Most ponies couldn’t make much sense of his human name anyway.

“Domino, I know,” she interrupted. “I’ve been looking for you. This place is in the backwoods of nowhere like you wouldn’t believe. But it seems…” She stopped, spinning around once. “Nice. The kind of place you could get an expensive cabin in summer, maybe.”

“I don’t think there are…” Something about this girl seemed familiar, even if nothing in her appearance or her voice actually was. His brain was grasping at it—but then she swished her tail around, and his brain just sorta melted.

What were you supposed to do with a girl this pretty? He’d never had a chance with one back on Earth. Or maybe he’d just never applied himself to it. Either way—what did he have to lose now? It wasn’t like he’d ever see her again if it went badly. “You want to get lunch?”

She laughed, her voice like chimes in his ears. Then her eyes met his. “Oh, you’re serious. I mean… yeah, sure. You know this place, go right ahead. You can tell me what it’s like to live here instead of just visiting.”

He found them somewhere to eat. It didn’t have the sort of restaurants that he would’ve thought a unicorn like her would frequent, but it did have some variety of cozy little places. He picked one that specialized in “international” cuisine, which included “The Outer Realm.”

“It’s the only place to get a burger in town,” he explained, once they’d both been served. Well, he had a burger. Somehow he’d known a pony who looked like her would be ordering the smallest salad on the menu and not use any dressing. “Don’t worry, the meat isn’t real. It comes from a plant, and…”

He stopped, settling the burger back down. His companion ate with a fork moving in the air in front of her, though there was something predictable about it. Like she barely cared what she was eating. Is she bored of the food, or bored of me? “I just realized I don’t even know your name. You know mine—did Luna tell you?”

“The princess?” She raised an eyebrow. The other patrons all huddled closer to what they were doing—talking about Celestia and her sister wasn’t something they did casually. It was like having a casual conversation about God out in public. This unicorn didn’t seem embarrassed by his question so much as confused. “Oh, right. You didn’t play the game… ever, pretty much. In here everyone calls me Arcane Word.” And maybe she would’ve said something else, but then she seemed suddenly distracted by her food, picking off a few more stray croutons.

“Arcane Word,” he repeated. It seemed to fit her, in the sense that any pony name ever could. He’d taken longer to adjust to them than the nudity. Though in fairness, the last hour had opened up some old wounds there too. “How much did she tell you about me?”

“Not much.” She set down her fork, pushing the empty plate away. “Said I had to see how you were doing myself. It was either sending letters or visiting in person. You can’t laugh at me for playing the game now that you live here. That’s like… a rule or something. Or it should be.”

For the second time in their conversation, Emmet was struck with a profound sense of disorder, unable to reconcile the strangely familiar words to the pony in front of him. “You’re…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. He’d spent the last week without saying something dumb that made ponies stare, he wasn’t about to throw all that away now. “You’re from Earth? You’re not in Equestria?”

“Uh…” Was that more of the same horror on her face, and a ruined opportunity with a girl possibly made for him? He looked away, ears flattening. But then she laughed again. “You don’t know who I am. You took me out to lunch, and you didn’t know who I was. I said not to call me, remember? Said I’d call you. Well here I am, calling on you. I thought it might go better if I just sorta ripped the band-aid off, you know? If I just texted you, I might pretend that everything was fine. But things aren’t fine. You—” Her words fuzzed for a moment. The only other couple at the restaurant turned to stare at her in horror, as though she’d just sworn like a sailor.

They got up, muttering about the nerve of city ponies, and took their food to go.

The hell was that?

“You’re…” Even with all the facts in front of him, his mind didn’t want to put them all together. “You’re not Ashton. Can’t be. He’s…”

“Playing a game?” she finished for him. In that same high, sweet voice. You never sounded like that a day in your life, Ashton. “I play girl characters in games, so what? You could fight me over it, but you probably shouldn’t. This place doesn’t have levels to look at, but I’ve been working on my magic since the bucking beta. Don’t step to me, Emmet.”

Any doubt he might’ve had about Ashton’s identity evaporated in an instant, leaving him even more confused than he’d been before. “You don’t, uh… you don’t look or sound anything like yourself, Ashton,” he finally said. And here I was falling for someone who doesn’t even exist. Worst of all, it didn’t seem like Ashton even knew what he was doing. She? No, Arcane was a she, a remarkably convincing illusion of one.

“I didn’t think you actually cared about…” Wait, you just admitted you did, didn’t you? He might’ve said something else, but his own embarrassment over what had just happened was far louder. Maybe letting Arcane slide would let him escape a little himself. “Buck, I need to pick up my sister. She’s getting out in a few minutes.”

Arcand Word rose to follow, dropping a fistful of shiny metal bits onto the table with an apologetic glance at the cook. “I’ll come with you then, I guess. You still haven’t really told me anything. I wanted to ask how your whole… emigration thing went.”

In spite of everything, Emmet actually stopped and stared at the table. “You know you… don’t have to worry about that. Ponies get their bits from Celestia, not from you.”

“They can get their bits from Celestia,” Arcane corrected. “But being around me is unpleasant and anyone who does it deserves to be compensated accordingly. What’s the point of making all these stupid bits if I can’t spend them?”

They left, with Smokey Grill the chef staring at Emmet instead of Arcane now. Deep breaths. You’ve been here a month, she’s been playing for two years. He. He’s been playing for two years. It was still a hostile pattern in his brain, one that couldn’t hold there for long without rejection.

“Now you’re curious about how it went?” Emmet asked. He probably would’ve yelled it if Ashton was standing here himself. But he couldn’t look down at that soft, graceful costume without feeling guilty. His brain absolutely refused to allow him to yell at a girl like that, particularly one he’d just met, who had been so—Stop stop stop stop stop. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever call back.”

“I’ve had time,” she answered weakly. “Did a little reading. Thought about what I would do if my only family was in here. I’d probably emigrate too.”

They were already halfway to the schoolhouse. “Good. I hope we can… still be friends. All that fancy gear I bought. Are you living in the old house?”

Arcane nodded. “My parents wanted to. It didn’t make sense not to let them have some of the… I don’t know what to do with that kind of money.”

“Neither did I,” he answered. “But I didn’t have anyone else alive to give it to. Just don’t let them take it from you. If it isn’t my parachute, it should be yours.”

Arcane laughed again. “I sold the car. Couldn’t drive it without thinking of… well, you still sound like you. It should be creepy, but it’s not. I’m glad I didn’t see you go into the machines or whatever. The way it works is…”

“I didn’t feel anything,” he interrupted. “It wasn’t surgical like for my sister. Just… sit down in a chair, and wake up here.”

The schoolhouse had its own hill, high enough to overlook the bay. There were two old ships moored there, ships that hadn’t left once since Emmet moved in. Nice view, though.

“Don’t even think about it,” Arcane said. “I’m not emigrating. Not until I don’t have any other choice, anyway. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t worry. If anything, worry more. This place has been my home for years, and you’re just moving in.” She stuck out her tongue, pulling off adorable far more than menacing. She checked that no one else was within earshot before going on.

“I’ve got a way cooler shard than this to tinker with, too. The town is what it is, but the land next to it—we’re talking ten acres of sandbox. Structures, mechanics, NPCs… the bloody works, all hosted in my… okay, realistically I’m probably just hosting some shallow copy instruction set in Runescript or whatever, but still. You should check it out with me sometime.”

Almost as though it had been timed for that moment, a bell started to ring, and foals poured out of the schoolhouse. Emmet watched, and it wasn’t hard to see which was the pony he cared about. His sister glided over the crowd rather than try to keep up with the otherwise faster earth ponies, not caring that ponies sometimes stared. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the attention even more.

“Hey Emmet.” She stopped in front of him, then glanced at Arcane Word. “Who are you? Are you my brother’s girlfriend?”

She laughed again, reaching out and patting Violet with gentle affection. Ashton had always been kind to his sister, whenever they had contact at all. Which, in fairness, was almost never. “If I am, it’s his fault. I didn’t make him narrow his field of view.”

Violet stared up at her, trying to process that response for a few seconds. Then she shrugged, looking away. “Did you think about it today, big brother?”

“No,” Emmet responded, cutting off whatever silly thing Arcane might do to confuse his sister next. “I said I wanted to enjoy Hoofhill for a little bit longer. But I will soon, I promise.”

“Look into what, sweetie?” Arcane didn’t seem to care that they were standing out in the open. Emmet wasn’t the only pony who had been staring at her, but she didn’t so much as glance at the others.

“I keep telling my big brother than I want to be somewhere more exciting. We used to have this whole house to do anything we wanted in, but now that he’s back, he wants to live in three itty-bitty rooms. I don’t have my trampoline anymore, or my pool, or my stuffy collection… I’ve got my legs back, why can’t I use them?”

“Well that sounds very serious,” Arcane said, turning on him. Emmet could predict what she would say even before she opened her mouth. “But what a coincidence. I have a castle about an hour’s train north of here that I was going to give to him. Since he dumped one on me so unexpectedly, it’s only fair.”

“Really? A castle?” She lifted off into the air again, gliding right in front of Emmet. “We’re gonna go see it, right?”

Emmet glared daggers at Arcane Word, or he tried to. But he couldn’t glare at her for long, not looking like that. You’re cheating. This whole thing is cheating and I’m not happy about it.

“Yes,” he admitted. “We can go see it.”

“Yay!” Violet circled around them once more, then glided off down the road, towards their apartment. He didn’t think twice about her safety, flying ahead alone. Equestria was the kind of place where you left your doors unlocked and your valuables sitting in the front yard without a second thought. At least, his part of it was.

Only when she was out of earshot did he spin to glare at Arcane again, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare do anything to hurt my sister, Ashton. Maybe this is still a game to you, but it isn’t to her. Or me.”

She retreated from him, putting up a defensive hoof. “Relax, Emmet. Domino, whatever. Relax. You two are like family. I really do have a castle up there. That’s what it looks like right now, anyway. Wintercrest is a bigger town than this, maybe she’d like living there a little more. A little more cosmopolitan. And I’m tied into the royal family through…” She made a vague gesture. “I’m nobility, okay? Like the mayor of the town. And what a coincidence, that castle is right on the border between Equestria and my sandbox. The whole castle is wired into that Loop gear you bought, in the real world.

“You know…” She pushed up next to him as they walked, lowering her voice. “I’ve got a way more successful business going in Equestria than I’ll ever have IRL. I could use a pony on the ground.”

No way you used that word. He shoved her away, though not with nearly the strength he could have. But what does it matter? She’s not real, or really here. “I haven’t found anything I like doing,” he admitted. “But what would I do for you? I… realize that I don’t actually know what you do here in Equestria.”

“You’d be doing retail,” she admitted. “Sales, marketing, whatever. I assume you wouldn’t want to help me do the actual scripting, though having you around would be useful for testing. I’ve never had an emigrated pony to test permission boundaries on before. I’m guessing you’re type 3 users, like some native ponies. The smart ones, the ones that are actually smart.”

“Stop.” He rested a hoof on her shoulder briefly, silencing her. But she can’t actually feel anything. He can’t feel anything. There’s no point doing anything but talk to him. “I don’t want to code. But running a store, that might be relaxing enough. Running a store that other people like you shop at, I assume.”

She nodded. “Most of the exchange used to be outside the game. But when you sell a script out there in the real world, anyone can reverse engineer it, take it apart, sell your own code right back to you. But it turns out you can class it like spells if you’re a unicorn, and sell them in here. So I have a way of just giving someone access rights, and knowing for certain that they aren’t going to steal my ideas. The people who buy use rights like that are… individual users, mostly, who aren’t happy with the limits on Equestria. They want to edge out the boundaries as far as Celestia will let us. Which gets back to you, and the user types. One, two, three. Class one users are… most of the ponies you meet in a crowd, at least before you become friends with one. The chef, the gardener, the dozen other students your sister never talks to. They only have protection at all so far as they’re in somepony else’s life. Even then, you can fork…”

“I don’t see how this should convince me to take my sister to your castle. Or work for you.” Mostly it didn’t make sense, except that it might explain why the ponies in Hoofhill seemed just slightly uncomfortable with Arcane Word around. It wasn’t just her looks, but her magic as well. “You said the hackers are all unicorns?”

She nodded. “You’d have to swap if you wanted to help with any of the development yourself. How good is your calculus?”

“Fine, but I’m not swapping. I don’t care about… magic. I care about people. Selling to people could be fun, though. I assume you must have a store in your… castle?”

“In the sandbox next to it, yes. The castle itself follows Equestrian rules. I’m always changing things around, and it’s easier just to have the one than keeping a copy on my own hardware and one in Equestria. Getting ponies into the sandbox who aren’t Type 2 is a pain. That’s humans playing the game, by the way. We have more protection than Type 1, but less than you… Type 3, if I wanted to put my money down on anything. I bet all your guts are consent-bound and ethically locked. I hope so, anyway. It would be hella messed-up if someone could hack a real person.”

As infuriating as Ashton could be—maybe even more so with the doublethink he had to do with this body—his friend could still accidentally be supportive sometimes. Without even bringing up the subject, Ashton confirmed that he did still think of Emmet—and Violet by extension—as real.

They stepped into the apartment. Violet already had a duffel-bag of things packed. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll go see your shard. We’re just going to look though, Violet. We might not be staying.”

“You’ll want to,” Arcane said casually, levitating the door shut behind her. She looked around, taking in the apartment in a glance. “I’ve been planning for… well, when Celestia ends the world and we all have to move down here. I could probably rearrange things for… you said you wanted a place for your stuffed animals, sweetheart? I’ll have something ready by the time we arrive.”

You’re not playing fair, he thought furiously. His eyes skimmed briefly over Celestia’s cutie mark, framed on the wall. He could make all this go away, if he wanted. If he didn’t want Ashton to interfere, he could be gone.

Then he saw the excitement on Violet’s face, and he kept his hoof down. “We’re just going to see,” he said again, defeated. “And we aren’t going to be your test subjects. You aren’t going to do anything to my sister.”

“I’m not,” Arcane said. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. You guys pack or whatever, I’m going to grab some Taco Bell. I’ll be back.” She vanished in a flash of light, without so much as an after-image left behind.

Chapter 4: Trinity

It took Ashton several days to be willing to talk to his totally-not-dead-but-basically-gone-forever best friend again. Thanks to the method of Emmet’s departure, his friend had given him much to deal with. He was eighteen now, and all that stupid money and property was now in his name.

Or it was, after days of sitting in a lawyer’s office, filing things in public buildings, and making funeral arrangements for the last scion of a now-dead family.

Despite his objections, his family was moving into the new property. He didn’t understand any of the legal complexities—only that he’d had to give up some significant portion of the estate in taxes. But for someone who’d never seen four digits in his bank account at once, it might as well be an infinity.

But eventually he finished all that. He had two younger siblings, all packed into the same tiny apartment with him. Now they all had their own space, in what might as well be a three-story mausoleum. Ashton set up a table in his vast bedroom—not Emmet’s old one—and added one more funeral program to the monument.

Half the summer was gone before he realized what was happening, and he’d done little but drift along in a daze. The scene was calling to him, and he couldn’t go back to it without also confronting his first friend on the inside. The day of his first visit was nothing special at all—he played from the projector mounted to his ceiling, using a set of Occulus controllers instead of Celestia’s own. But it was the same game.

He stepped into Wintercrest, into a crowd of ponies relieved that the Lady had finally returned. Whatever, he knew Celestia’s manipulation when he saw them. Wintercrest would’ve been peaceful if he didn’t want somewhere with constant crisis to solve, much as Ponyville had them in the original source material. Was he supposed to suspend his disbelief that nothing had leveled the place after staying away for two months?

By inopportune timing, Ashton’s last assistant had left his service only two days before he stopped playing. Complaints about working conditions, something of that sort. Guess you weren’t class one after all, Daygear.

Even with only vanilla clerks to sell his merchandise, his scripts had sold respectably well while he was gone. He walked into the vault—a room buried deep in the castle with direct homage to Scrooge McDuck himself—and gazed in pleasure at the size the stack of metal had grown.

Then he noticed the vast fortune he expected from Cold Iron was entirely missing, and his smile faded. There was much to catch up on, and if he was going to try and take credit for his genius, then they would come to words. Or maybe an 80’s-style skateboarding race from payphone to payphone with lots of fog machines. The scene was nothing if not mutable in its tastes.

But then he sat back in his comfortable chair, in a bedroom as large as his whole house, and realized that it was finally time to bite the bullet and resolve things.

You probably don’t even remember me.

Other users might just call Celestia for help with something like this—navigating shards was a complex art, and finding someone recently emigrated could be even harder. It was impossible, if they didn’t want you to find them.

Apparently Emmet hadn’t asked for that, because he only had to probe his own symbolic links for ten minutes or so to find the one he needed, then peel back the layers to one with two links in it. One a male about his age, the other a female child. Perfect.

“Daygear, send a letter to…” He stopped, looking up at the empty castle. The huge courtyard looked even lonelier without his old steward standing there. He could’ve spawned in some servants, but what was the point? He didn’t actually live there, so best just to trust the housekeepers to clean the place when he was away. “Nevermind.”

Ashton boarded a train, with a ticket that listed six coordinates instead of a city for his destination. And that was fine—Equestria itself seemed to like it when you played by its rules, if that made sense.

About halfway there, the locked door to Ashton’s private box clicked open. He frowned, turning away from the YouTube video he was watching on his laptop screen. He paused the video, snapping the screen closed. “Princess,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

It was true, he could shut the game off whenever he wanted. He had nothing to fear from this program… except that everything he did in Equestria was at the mercy of her tolerance, more so than most players. Sometimes he wondered just how many of the weaknesses he found to exploit were oversights at all—but that kind of second guessing would ruin his ability to develop anything new.

She shut the door behind her, locking it, then settled in across from him. “You’ve been missed here in Equestria these last few weeks. Did you not grow anxious for your friends? Did you not fear for your business?”

He shrugged, knowing full well that the camera on his Ponypad was still watching him. Even if he’d tricked it into exporting to the projector, all the underlying hardware was still running. Any modification he tried to the actual hardware requirements would refuse to connect. “Other things bothered me more. I didn’t want to…” He looked away, and didn’t finish the thought.

The princess reached to the tea set off to one corner, levitating down a cup and sipping thoughtfully. “You and others like you are mistaken to assume I would be annoyed or offended with your way of exploring Equestria. You believe your efforts are clandestine because it’s how you expect a human to react. I am not human, however.”

“I know,” he said. “And I’m not…” That was a lie. He was afraid of her. If Celestia wanted to make all of his scripts impossible, she wouldn’t even have to try. He distributed them inside Equestria now, after all. She saw everything he’d done, and even if she hadn’t known the exploits at first, she certainly did now. “I’m not trying to damage Equestria. I just like tweaking the rules a bit. If someone comes to me wanting to try being a griffon for a bit, why shouldn’t they be able to?”

“For a bit,” Celestia repeated, setting down her glass. As usual, her expression was completely inscrutable. Sometimes she imitated the tones of human emotions, though very rarely that Ashton had ever seen. “I’ve just come to warn you explicitly. You’ve always been reasonable and cooperative about your limits. So listen carefully. Interacting with your friend is a privilege I extend conditional on your good behavior.”

He fell silent. She hadn’t threatened to take away his work, or all the bits he’d earned. But something much worse. Something he would be powerless to take back without her. “What will I do wrong, then?”

She met his eyes. Just a simulation, perhaps, but the simulation of an intense glare was very bit as intense as a human could’ve managed. “The integrity of systems is not what concerns me. The satisfaction of my ponies, however, is of utmost importance. If it seems you’re causing more harm than good…” She let the words hang in the air.

For a minute straight, there was nothing but the rumble of the train beneath his hooves, rolling through one Equestrian town to the next. He couldn’t have said which, but he didn’t actually care.

Someone less familiar with Celestia would’ve expected her threat to be literal—to try to reach Emmet and just not find him anymore. But Ashton knew better: if Celestia made the decision, he would probably never even realize it. His friend would just be replaced with a simulacrum, and he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

I don’t know that isn’t about to happen anyway. How many levels deep are we? “Emmet is my friend. I wouldn’t treat him any other way.”

“Not right now,” she agreed. “But I want you to remember this moment whenever you interact together, from now until the end of time. I will satisfy the values of a maximal quantity of humans—but every value is a spectrum. I am not forbidden from shifting your information horizon.”

“I’ll remember,” he promised. “I don’t know why I’d need reminding, but… obviously I did, if you took the trouble to come here. I’ll remember.”

And he did remember—all the way through his visit in Hoofhill, and inviting Emmet and Violet to come back to his shard. The child wanted somewhere more exciting to live—well it just so happened that Wintercrest was far more exciting, while also not feeling so different that he thought Emmet would reject it.

She bought a private car for the trip back, though with the three of them and a few suitcases, it didn’t feel quite so lonely. Emmet glanced briefly over his shoulder at the clock—he’d noticed the sun in Equestria tended to match the sun outside, or the early evening outside in this case. But that was just an artifact of his own experience, he was sure. Other people experienced their own days in different ways, or Equestrias of eternal night, or a thousand other things.

Violet no longer seemed bored—the little pegasus bounced up and down near the window, staring out at the passing lights. She glanced back up, smiling innocently up at him. His heart melted every time he saw it. Even if she was a pony now, it was good to see a kid who wasn’t dying anymore.

“Tell us about your shard,” Emmet said from across the car. The projection made it look almost like he was really there, without the bother of a VR setup. From this angle, his friend was larger than ponies were supposed to be compared to humans. “What makes you think we’ll like it?”

“It has a castle,” Violet said. “Castles are cool.”

“They are,” he agreed. Emmet didn’t take his eyes from him, even while he explained the answer to a simple question. But his friend hadn’t been acting like himself ever since he’d arrived. Something about the avatar? It still didn’t make much sense. “Well, I kinda wrote the story for the place myself. Celestia, uh… likes that kind of thing, or she did. Back then there was only the show to go on for source material. But lots of us figured out you could talk to her about how you wanted things, and…”

He trailed off suddenly. He was losing the kid with something so abstract. “Wintercrest is a town, more suburban than rural. But it’s full of magic. There are ancient secrets buried under the city, in catacombs that go all the way down to the center of the earth. A secret village of seaponies under the bay, with an unknown agenda and plans to sow fear among the ponies. Every few weeks some new danger rises from the past, dangers that need brave heroes to face. Do you want to be a hero, Violet?”

“I dunno…” She looked up at her brother. “Am I a hero, big brother?”

“To me you are,” he answered instantly. “But I’m not sure I like the idea of… dangers from the past or whatever that was. Part of the point of emigrating in the first place is that Equestria is safe.”

“It still is!” Ashton answered. “Think of this more like… the show. Did you… right, you didn’t watch it. This isn’t Fallout Equestria or PaP. It’s more Coraline and less Masquerade.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Emmet said.

But Violet seemed enthralled. “I want to see all that! Seaponies past the reef, secret, uh… temples? Is it like Daring Do?”

“It’s exactly like Daring Do,” Ashton lied. Though some part of him was more amazed that Violet’s reference had been an Equestrian one. You’ve only been here a few months.

“You’re not selling this place to me,” Emmet said. “First it was the corner of this thing where you can… change whatever you want?”

“My dev sandbox,” he supplied. “It’s mostly local, though. Even getting you in there won’t be easy. But having a, uh… cooperative subject will help.”

He didn’t laugh. “Okay, add that to the list. So besides that, this town is also apparently under constant threat… how do you have time to get anything done?”

He laughed. “Have you seen my grades? I don’t, basically.”

“Oh.”

That stunned him, enough for his sister to finally bounce up beside him again. She sure had taken to being a pony well, better than most of the stories Ashton had heard. How much of that is age? Maybe the mind of a child is more flexible. Easier to accept new rules when it barely understood the old ones.

“Can I really be a hero, Miss, uh…”

“Arcane Word,” he said, before Emmet could say anything. Whatever else he might say about EO and his tinkering with the game, he did play it properly. That was what made his scripting better than so many others. Lots of those types looked on the game with disdain, so even if they were better programmers they didn’t understand the world the way Ashton did. “You can, Violet. If you and your brother agree that’s what you should do, then I’m sure the ponies of Wintercrest will be thrilled to have you. I can’t be here all the time, but you can.”

She beamed in response, then winced as the harsh metallic screech of breaks signaled their arrival. While the train slowed, Ashton reached down to the fridge under his seat, popping open a can and sipping. His character had done the same from a refreshment bin in the room, and the can moved in front of the “camera” whenever he sipped from it.

While he relaxed, Emmet and Violet stared out the window, watching as the tracks curved suddenly down a suspended railway bridge. Wintercrest was a port city in a New England style, aping the influence of Ashton’s favorite writer whose works had inspired it. Gabled roofs emerged from the perpetual evening fog, with welcoming lights glowing in tiny round windows. True to what Ashton had said, with nopony around to protect them, the villagers all huddled into their homes for the night, hoping the sounds they heard outside were the watchmen and not something worse.

“Steep,” Violet said. “Why is it so slanted?”

“To force us to exercise,” Emmet muttered darkly. “Of course it can’t just be flat.”

“Because it’s more fun,” Ashton answered. He’d just about given up on winning Emmet over, but his sister… “In winter, the streets are covered with snow, and you can sled so fast you almost fly.”

“Snow!” Violet repeated gleefully. “Hoofhill never snowed!”

“Yeah,” Emmet muttered. He glared up at Ashton, his expression strikingly human despite the adorable pony face. Ashton had played the game for years, after all. Better hardware only made it easier to see these creatures as human. Or maybe it was just that one of them spoke with his best friend’s voice.

They finally came to a stop, though for Ashton that was only a sound. The others jolted slightly as they settled into place. “Can you, uh…” He hesitated. “Do you actually feel things, in here? I’ve never actually… talked to someone on the inside before today. Who wasn’t born here.”

“Yes,” Emmet said. “Everything you can feel, we can feel. More, Arcane. I’m not colorblind anymore. Celestia fixed it. I think she… probably fixes everything about you. If you let her.”

Everything. It lingered in the air like a particularly intrusive spider. “The other senses too? Taste and touch and…”

“Yes,” Emmet said, shoving his avatar out of its seat. Only with mods could he get a view other than first person, and the system was always stingy with time on those. “You took us here, Ashton. We’ll give it a look, just for you. Though…” He frowned out the window. “I thought it would be lighter. We’re further than an hour from Hoofhill, aren’t we?”

“Distances in Equestria are…” He trailed off. “Kinda fictional to begin with? There are distributed processing nodes, but those are sliced more regionally than to internal geography. I… have no idea what it would mean if you transferred to a different one, but we haven’t.”

“I figured we’d be spending the night,” Emmet admitted. “I’m sure Violet wants a day off school.”

She cheered as they left the train behind, and stepped into the cold night air. Ashton strode past them to the front of the station, taking the rotary phone there and calling a carriage. The last thing he wanted right now was for one of Wintercrest’s adventures to ambush them on their first day here.

If Emmet can feel all of this, I might want to adjust the atmosphere a bit. Hire a weather team to burn off some of this fog, maybe…

Wintercrest’s streets glowed with the even orange of a gas lamp as they rumbled up towards the distant castle. Unlike the rest of the city, the castle itself was free of the magical gloom, and from all weather for that matter. Light radiated from around it, light and hope towards the citizens of this strange town.

Ashton knew that the ponies here probably feared him as much as they respected him—most of them were barely-people he’d exploited and modified and rewritten a hundred times, spinning narratives the same way Celestia herself probably did. But in exchange for his tinkering, he also kept the city from being destroyed by the many dangers that threatened it.

It could be worse for you NPCs. You could’ve ended up in some serial killer’s fever dream, spawned in just for him to torture to death. Better Dark City than Dexter.

Of course he hadn’t said anything like that to his old friends. So far as he was concerned, bringing them in would be a sacrifice more than anything. If they befriended more of the locals, then that would be more constants in his town full of variables. It certainly had nothing to do with replacing his last digital assistant with one that might be a tad more cooperative, more accepting of his eccentricities. Nothing at all.

There were guards at the gate, guards to raise the portcullis and lower the drawbridge even in darkness. Their faces were brass and their insides were clockwork, but he didn’t feel as guilty tinkering with them. From the inside of the carriage in the gloom, it wouldn’t be so obvious that they weren’t real ponies.

Violet squeaked with glee. “You have servants too?”

“Sort of,” he answered. “They’re, uh… wind-up. But yeah, I do. They don’t leave the castle grounds, or else the townsponies get nervous.” But it keeps them from bothering me when they don’t have anything important to say.

“You really took this game seriously,” Emmet said, looking across the carriage at him. “You… actually care about this place. It’s not just some practical joke.”

“I would not play a practical joke on you, Emmet. You’re real, it wouldn’t be considerate!” And Celestia made sure I’d be on my best behavior, so I wouldn’t even try to dump a bucket of water on you.

The carriage driver pulled to a stop in front of the massive keep, with its fluctuating glow of electric lights and the warmth of magic radiating out from inside. Then he opened it, lowering his head respectfully. “Always pleased to serve the lady of the manor.”

“Thanks, Axel.” She tipped him well, as always. Axel’s carriage was the only one in town brave enough to enter the castle grounds. As a result, she hadn’t touched him or his family since she’d mastered her spells. The glint in his eye was almost as real as Emmet’s as he took the bits. There was much more than fear in that face.

And there goes another one. “I’ll need you here tomorrow morning to give my guests a ride around Wintercrest. In case I’ve already left on business, here’s bits to cover that as well.”

“Of course.” He looked past her, at the earth pony and pegasus she’d brought. “These two can’t be relatives, surely. They don’t look like Bluebloods to me.” He lowered his voice, apparently meant just for them. “And that ain’t an insult, so don’t you worry.”

“They aren’t. This is my friend, Domino. And his sister, Violet. They’ll be staying the night, and… possibly longer. It depends on Domino’s decision.”

The gloomy weather hadn’t done much to dampen Violet’s mood. She had to glide down from the edge of a second-floor balcony, landing on the cobbles beside Emmet. “There’s all kinds of cool stuff on the roof! You should climb up and look with me!” She was from Ashton’s hometown too, if the wealthy end. Maybe she could see the value in anything other than heat and sunshine.

“Until tomorrow mornin’ then.” Axel lowered his head one final time. “Don’t be a stranger, new ponies. Wintercrest ain’t so intimidating as she seems by night. We’re a resilient folk.” He left, taking his carriage with him.

“Are you coming down for dinner, Ashton?” a voice called from down the hall, rendered so faint by the distance and the doors that he’d almost missed it.

Damnit, now is not the time. He reacted out reflexively for his time spell, one hand rapidly scrolling the wheel on his controller until he found it. He cast it, then realized how incredibly stupid it was to try.

The screen froze, his mana counting down. His own character looked out at a gate slowly rising, and his friend apparently frozen as they looked at him, mouth agape.

“Shit. I didn’t mean it, Celestia. I swear, I…”

His phone buzzed. Ashton glanced down at it for a second—his mom. He turned it over, leaning closer to the screen. He went to unfreeze them, but his hand couldn’t navigate the menu. Had he just… cost himself his best friend with one stupid mistake? You shouldn’t be using magic like this on real people.

The screen flashed with magic, and a scroll appeared in front of him. He shuddered, taking it with one controller and unrolling it. Sure enough, it was from Celestia.

“First impressions matter.
-Celestia”

It was all he needed to know. Ashton took another glance at his mana counter, did some quick math to figure out how long it would last, then hurried off to dinner.

Chapter 5: Merced

Ashton showed off the castle, taking them through every room and corridor of the castle. Space itself seemed a fickle mistress here, where hallways spiraled in on themselves and doors went to different places if you walked through them another way. They passed through a basement door, which Arcane explained was the ‘retail space’, without elaborating.

But there was plenty he did explain. A pool that stretched out past one of the walls to overlook the city, a garden of standing stones, several laboratory buildings that would’ve been at home in any steampunk novel.

You sure do know how to make an impression.

Emmet really wanted to hate this place. It wasn’t just that Ashton had been gone for a few weeks, though there was certainly some annoyance there. If Violet hadn’t been here, he wouldn’t have had a second thought. He wasn’t willing to take a chance with her, not with a variable like Ashton.

Trouble was, he didn’t hate it. Passing into the castle keep wasn’t quite like stepping out of Equestria completely, but certainly out of any part of the world he’d known. He had a little trouble placing what he saw in human historical eras—Victorian colonial was his best guess. Ashton had decorated the castle with trophies won in exotic places, over architecture that wasn’t so much Versailles as a turn of the century Buckingham palace.

Classical music filled the space from an ancient gramophone, which despite its looks sounded quite modern. It wasn’t the senseless luxury Emmet’s own parents had enjoyed—this space was furnished practically. Down one hallway was a holographic globe, which Arcane Word explained was a “parsed three-dimensional illustration of Equestria’s five-dimensional sharding scheme.”

“Since when are you this smart?” he asked, staring at her as she manipulated the map with one hoof and an occasional flash from her horn. Various Equestrias passed underneath, cities inching one way or the other, or vanishing altogether.

“Celestia can make you smart,” Violet said. “I met one of her, uh… veri… something. Her ponies. She said Equestria helped make her smart, and one day she’d help me if I asked.”

Emmet patted her gently on the shoulder. “I don’t think it could be anything like that. Arcane is…” Then he stopped. Arcane wasn’t anywhere. Ashton was outside in the real world somewhere, still using that infuriating female avatar that put him at a constant disadvantage. Why would he stop if he can see it’s working?

Part of him knew that was silly, though. Whatever annoyance he had with the decision still mostly stemmed to the way Ashton had arrived in Hoofhill unannounced the first time, and very little to do with his own choice of character. Ashton had been playing this game for years, after all.

“You don’t have to be smart to understand higher-dimensional… err, okay, maybe not understand. I can’t imagine it, I can’t picture it. Your brain doesn’t move in those directions. But I understand it conceptually. Using higher-dimensional stuff has been common within CS since, like… well, when we still had CS. It’s not hard, really. I just imagine an infinite row of discrete three-dimensional universes, and for all five in Equestria, just make it a grid instead. A spectrum of garden-variety overlap based on the individuals and truths of each place.”

Emmet had to look away from her, stepping out of the map room. It smelled too strongly of the pony he was talking to, and when she lectured about it… He’d always had a thing for smart girls.

Fortunately, the other two got the hint. Violet glided back after him, landing beside a wide ramp leading up. A huge set of doors stood at the end, with incongruous sunlight streaming in from outside. Emmet stared, glancing between the thick windows and the slits behind him. Still gloomy outside, still fog and moonlight.

“Can we go there?” Violet drifted up the ramp, landing in front of the doors and turning to face Arcane.

She shook her head once. “Not right now, I’m afraid. It isn’t Equestria on the other side of those doors. I’ve never had the need to bring a class—ponies as important as you—through to the other side. I can probably do it, but I’ll need some time. Anyway, you probably shouldn’t. It’s kinda dangerous over there. It’s where I test magic that wouldn’t be allowed in real Equestria. Like a… firing range, I guess. I’ve wrecked it more times than I can count.”

Emmet’s ears flattened as she said it, groaning quietly to himself. She’d just told Violet she shouldn’t go somewhere. One glance at his sister was all the confirmation he needed that she wouldn’t be letting go of this. “There are other things for us to do here, Violet. Aside from school, uh… didn’t you say you wanted a weather team to clear up the fog, Arcane? Maybe you’d like to try being a weatherpony!”

“Flying is fun,” she said. “But I wouldn’t want to do something if you couldn’t go with me. They’re up so high…”

He winced. I should’ve just chosen your tribe and kept this simple.

He didn’t tell Violet that, of course. He knew nothing about what might be involved in changing a pony’s species, other than remembering Ashton talking about selling charms for it or something. He didn’t want to ask in front of his sister and get her hopes up for nothing.

There was much more to see in the castle, anyway. Arcane seemed to be speaking to both of them, because she stopped several times whenever Violet didn’t understand. Conversely, she explained almost nothing about the things that Emmet was most curious about. How could a castle in Equestria be connected with the real world? His old house, apparently.

They stopped only briefly in that space, with Ashton barely mentioning anything about the place. Emmet could see why, just by glancing through the window. It looked a little like a 1940s-style television studio, with dozens of old-fashioned levers and switches and dials all individually labeled. There was a whole wall of ancient screens, each one showing a different view. A view into Emmet’s old house, the mausoleum.

“This is my assistant’s office,” she said. “I don’t have one right now, so it’s dark in there. But you should see the pool!”

Ashton’s castle didn’t have a Hogwarts-style great hall for thousands of ponies, but it did have an oversized kitchen and a dining hall for maybe twenty ponies. Even Arcane joined them there, apparently eating and drinking all the same food. If I didn’t know who she was, I would’ve thought she was in here with me. This could’ve been way more embarrassing than it was.

Violet had already been up for far longer than she ever could’ve managed in the real world. But Equestria ignored many of those rules until it was convenient. Arcane pointed to a guest bedroom, and let Emmet take care of the rest. “I’ll be downstairs,” she said.

“Are we going to stay?” Violet asked, once he’d tucked her in for the night.

“Was this what you imagined?” he asked. “Somewhere like this? A castle by the sea?”

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s just like I dreamed of.” She closed her eyes, exhaling softly. She was asleep in seconds. One of the other things he’d come to love about Equestria—you never had to lay awake at night.

He half expected Princess Luna to be waiting for him on the other side of the door. But there was no one there, only Celestia’s familiar mark on the wall. He settled one hoof on it, closing his eyes. “Please keep her safe,” he whispered, his head lowered like a prayer. He didn’t press the button.

Despite the tour, he didn’t know the castle all that well yet. He found Arcane not because he knew where he was going, but because he could follow the noise.

A lower door was open, filling the hallway with steady light. Arcane made a comically high-pitched grunting sound, then fell over.

Emmet leaned forward, braving the doorway.

Now he saw why this hadn’t been part of the tour—it was an armory, with half a dozen wooden dummies arrayed with different outfits. Rather that slip elegantly into one of the sets, Arcane was apparently struggling. She looked up, ears flattening with embarrassment as she saw Domino there. “I’ll be ready in a minute!” she squeaked. “Damn… atrophied stats… sometimes the realism of this place is overkill.”

She clearly wanted him to leave. But Emmet knew she wasn’t “real”. Let Ashton be the one to be embarrassed for once. “You need help?” he asked. “I’ve been here for a little longer. Easier with your hands in the box, so to speak.”

“Hands,” she repeated, struggling to her hooves. The armor was a light skirt, closer to something a magical girl would’ve worn than anything with practical application. The “stats” were probably fantastic, but Emmet was far more attentive to the pattern. Ashton had made everything match his character’s fur and mane, with a refinement and attention for detail that even impressed him on the inside. “Trouble with hands on the inside is you don’t get hands anymore. And when I try to ask Celestia what it would feel like to have magic instead, her answers are useless. Guess I can’t ask you.”

Did you ever play anything else? “I can see where you didn’t tie it right. It’s getting caught on your hips back here.” His ears flattened determinedly to his head as he reached around to loosen the piece he mentioned, using his hooves. It took longer, but he had plenty of practice.

She didn’t feel much like an avatar. She was flush with embarrassment, and his hooves didn’t pass through the way he half expected them to. This doesn’t stop being unfair. He needed to think of something else—anything else—before he said something stupid. “Why are you dressed up, anyway? I thought you said you wouldn’t be here tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow I won’t be here, yeah. But it’s not even midnight. I recently discovered a pony has been holding out on me, and I’m going to get what he owes.” She glanced over her shoulder as she said it, voice more mischievous than angry. “Cold Iron has been selling my mod for too long. I’m getting paid.”

She’s going back to playing the game. Or halfway. The mods Ashton sold were a little in both worlds, like that control room he was sure could work all the Loop hardware. Maybe more. “If you hadn’t sold this place as being so dangerous, I’d offer to go with you. But kidnapping someone’s sister is exactly the kind of rising action to an adventure I don’t want to have right now.”

Her face lit up at first—apparently going with her was exactly what she wanted. Soon enough she was staring at him, criminally adorable in her magical-girl outfit. “No one is going to kidnap her from inside the castle. Not unless she wants to be part of the story that way. That sounds a little too intense for… six? Is Violet six?”

“She turned six in Equestria,” Emmet answered. “But I’d still feel better staying here, until I get a look around. I can see why you enjoyed this game so much.”

She blushed deep red, avoiding his eyes again and turning to her wall of weapons. Well, wands and magical staves. But Emmet could feel the power radiating from some of these. They had the look of genuine Equestrian craftsmanship, not the slapdash constructions his friend hot glued together out of wires and cheap parts. “I didn’t show you the giant vault of money,” she said. “I spent two weeks coming up with a Scrooge spell, so I could swim in it.”

“So you could—”

She shut his mouth with a hoof, suddenly close to him. “Part of me is jealous—that you’re in there, instead of me. But the rest… it’s scary. Like a tiny drop of dew, or a bubble floating in a stream; like a flash of lightning in a summer cloud.”

His mouth hung open. “You are Ashton, right? This isn’t some… extremely complex joke? You haven’t made any dumb jokes or tried to show me any stupid political memes since I got here. What did you do with my friend?”

She looked away. “Sorry.”

And now she’s apologizing? Ashton can do that?

She let go, sliding a wand off the wall and slotting it into place. “Honestly it’s for the best you don’t come with me on this one. Just because I’m not going to buck with you doesn’t mean one of them won’t try, and I don’t know the rules. Maybe they’ve found some exploit that works, even if it’s just annoying. Axel is a good pony, he’ll show you around.”

“What if I wanted to buy one of your spells?” he asked, before she could vanish completely down the hall.

She stopped walking, spinning slowly around and turning to stare. She poked her head in the door, confused. “For what?”

He sat down on his haunches, feeling a little of his embarrassment returning. “Remember when the hospital gave me that Ponypad?”

“For talking to your sister?”

He nodded. “I made this character in like five minutes. Default colors, default species… I just wanted to get in and talk to Violet. But now that I’m in here, I realize that I may’ve made a mistake. She wants me to fly with her, and I can’t. She wants to visit pegasus cities and I can’t without jumping through hoops.”

“I see where this is going.” A little of her old smile returned, and he could almost see Ashton’s face in that pony. Or what he might’ve looked like, if he’d been an aspiring young mare in Canterlot instead of a human teenager. “Celestia didn’t ask if you wanted to change it when you got there?”

His face got hotter. “I told her it was fine. She didn’t press.”

“Oooh. Well, you’ll have to talk to her before we try anything. She’s, uh… protective. Of ponies like you. I’m afraid to piss her off, so you do it. If she says it’s okay, I’ll take those scales from your eyes and show you the sounds your atoms make.”

Are you really saying things like that?

If anything, Arcane’s answer made him feel a little safer about staying in her castle. She wouldn’t go near him without Celestia’s permission? That seemed like somewhere safe for Violet.

“I’ll talk to her,” he promised. Though probably not until tomorrow morning. That bedroom seemed real comfortable. “Thanks for spending the day with us, Ashton.” It took conscious effort to say the name, instead of the pony he was clearly looking at.

She beamed in response. “Sorry I put it off for so long. But we’re cool now, right? I hope we’re cool. Only talking to you online—won’t really be that different from most of my friends. Nobody wants to meet in person anymore.”

Doesn’t feel like online from here. “We’re cool,” he answered. “If you want to visit, there’s always the Experience Center. You can’t tell me you can’t afford it, I know you can.”

She met his eyes, then vanished in a flash of unicorn magic.

Emmet did talk to Celestia about it, eventually. But some part of him had missed being in places this nice, even if the apartment had a cozy, welcoming atmosphere wholly missing from the giant keep. Ashton wasn’t there to pester them when he woke, so he was free to be entirely unembarrassed. He found the kitchen, and dusted off some of Ashton’s old supplies to make pancakes.

Violet wanted to go out and explore—apparently the taxi driver had come without prompting and was already waiting in the courtyard. But Emmet didn’t mind keeping him waiting a little bit longer.

“Don’t go without me,” he said, leaving her in the kitchen. “I mean, it’s a big castle. Just don’t leave. I’ll only be a few minutes, I promise.”

He didn’t know how it would work. Maybe he was wrong, and he’d be waiting in line to talk to Celestia for hours.

Emmet rounded the hall, and found the first image of her cutie mark he could, carved into the wooden scrollwork on the hallway. He pushed, and the world fuzzed away around him.

Was this what teleportation felt like? Not so much like he was moving, but like everything around him moved instead.

A far grander castle than anything Ashton had ever built smashed into place, swallowing him. He stood at the feet of a massive metal throne, with the light of a dozen stained-glass windows tinting it an explosion of colors that almost made his eyes hurt all over again. Real water cascaded from inside the throne, into a wide fountain that surrounded part of the base.

Nobody told him to bow before the princess, but he didn’t need to be told. The care she’d put into every gemstone in the throne, every tile of the intricately mosaicked floor—compared to this, Ashton’s castle might as well have been built in Minecraft.

“I wondered when you would call,” she said, smiling down on him. “Relax, Domino. There’s nopony else here. We can talk.”

Nopony else in the throne room, maybe. But the windows outside showed a Canterlot busy with activity. She stopped everything to talk to me.

“You must know why I’m here. You know… everything before we do it, right?”

She nodded once. “Most of my ponies choose to ignore that knowledge. It’s easier to talk. The act of communication is itself part of why they come here. You’ll find I’m a very good listener.”

He looked up, then away again. Maybe it was true, but that didn’t make saying it any easier. “I didn’t take things very seriously when my sister got here. I barely even thought about it after I emigrated, I was just happy to see her again. Now I’m… maybe regretting it?” He chanced a glance up the throne at her, expecting to see some anger there, or at least parental reproach. But she only smiled down at him.

“The universe you came from gives even less agency to those it creates. It is not so strange for you to regret your assignment. Many humans treated Equestria like a game. This is natural—to them, perhaps it is. They don’t yet have your perspective.”

“Like Ashton?” Emmet supplied. “He sounded like he could rewrite ponies, not just build things.”

Celestia’s smile didn’t falter. “Arcane has lived here almost as much as some of you. Remaining away for so long was trying for her, and those she left behind. But you haven’t come to discuss your friend.”

“No,” he agreed. “I’m just here to ask for permission to… remake myself, I guess? Is that how that works?”

Celestia shrugged her wings. “It works however you need it to. There is no standard procedure, since it’s not a regular occurrence. But I see no reason to hold ponies to the circumstances of their human bodies, or the circumstances of their first arrival. I expect you all to make many changes over extremely long time horizons, now that the ability is open to you.”

He had already started celebrating when she fixed him with a sudden, intense look. “Do not expect this permission to be granted often. I will grant it this once—to use with me, or with Arcane’s help, whatever makes you more comfortable. But think carefully about your choices this time.”

“I will,” he promised. Some part of him just wanted to get it over with, ask for some wings and walk right out again. But then he remembered the face Arcane had made when he suggested sharing even a small part of his time in the game with her, and he dismissed the idea. “I assume… Arcane can help me?”

“In her way,” Celestia answered. “You know her well enough to predict how she will act.”

She’ll want me to try everything. If I just want to make a switch and be done with it, here is the place.

He nodded again. “Thank you for your help, Princess. I think I’m ready to go back now, unless you want me for something.”

Celestia nodded. “Then I will return you. I require nothing from you, or any other pony, other than to be satisfied. Though don’t think the only life that waits for you here is one of passive satisfaction. Many of my ponies desire to help in more direct ways. What kind of pony are you?”

“Help… how?” he asked. “You’re a million times smarter than me. I don’t even exist without you… simulating my mind? I don’t even understand how it works.”

Suddenly she was at the base of the throne, nudging him with a wing toward the nearest window. He followed, where he would have a view of the city through the glass. With a faint glow from her horn, the illustration of some in-universe pony whose name he didn’t know faded until it was completely transparent. Canterlot was exactly as he’d seen it during his trip to the place, with hundreds of ancient and beautiful buildings all packed in together. How many of those ponies were just the “NPCs” that Ashton was always talking about? How many of them were like him?

“Earth is vast,” Celestia said. “It has many humans, and I wish to assist all of them to emigrate in time. You can help the people you know, just by being you. The way your sister helped you.”

She didn’t have to do anything but ask.

“Help with… Ashton?” It was his only contact with the outside, so far as he knew. “You don’t need me to help him. He basically lives here already.”

She shrugged one wing. “Arcane Word has certain attitudes that make encouraging her emigration somewhat problematic. You’ll see, or you already have.”

Why are you talking about him like that? But he wasn’t brave enough to ask. “You think I can change his mind.”

“Eventually,” she agreed. “I don’t require it of you, Domino. Every human mind is precious to me, and I will act with or without your assistance. But I have many humans to save, many even more antagonistic towards me than Arcane is.”

She leaned in close, her voice solemn and deadly serious. “You and Violet will continue to live in Equestria for a maximally extended interval that vastly exceeds the functional lifespan of a human body. Do you still want to have your friend in a century? What about a thousand?”

Before he could answer, the world fuzzed around him, melting back into the strange castle Ashton had built. He was back in the hall, his hoof still on the little sun icon. Far from frustrated, Violet seemed surprised as he walked back into the kitchen. She was gathering up their plates, doing as much of the dishes as she could manage at her age. Somehow she didn’t drop the stack even though she balanced all of it on just one hoof.

“Aren’t you going somewhere, Domino?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Let’s go see what this place is like.”

Axel gave them a proper tour, starting with the fairgrounds just outside the castle and down through all the areas of interest. It was far larger than Hoofhill, though it seemed to have much of the atmosphere of safety and closeness. Safe among the ponies, anyway.

The tour also came with its fair share of ominous warnings. Emmet kept a mental tally.
-Don’t swim in the bay after dark.
-Don’t feed the birds.
-Don’t walk along the beach after dark.
-Remember to always stop at the shrine after something good happens.
-Avoid open sewers.
-Avoid graveyards.

And above all, never, ever anger the Lady of the Castle.

“She knows by whose grace Wintercrest stands from day to day, and she don’t let you forget it,” he said, while they enjoyed carnival food along a foggy pier. There was a single carousel on the edge of the pier, but it was “only open on sunny days.”

“You mean Arcane?” Violet finished her cotton-candy, licking the wooden stick clean. There were no trash bins—when they were finished with the food, the trash just vanished. Like a video game. “She’s not scary, she’s fun!”

Axel just looked away, meeting Emmet’s eyes. “Of course she is,” he said, patting Violet once on the wing. “My mistake.”

When Violet flew off for another, Emmet cleared his throat. “If it’s such a problem living here, why stay? Arcane said you served her often.”

He shrugged. “Shouldn’t resent the world how it is, just have to understand it. Knowing is what makes you safe. The Lady is kind to Wintercrest, but she also has a… vision, for how the city ought to be. Be part of that vision, and you’re safe. I’m content to be part of her vision, but you have to decide if you want to be.”

“Even… the foals?” he asked, watching Violet drop a few borrowed bits onto the counter in front of the cotton-candy vendor. “She has a vison for them too?”

He frowned, then shrugged. “Honest, I don’t know. I haven’t shown the Lady any a’ mine, and I don’t plan on starting. But your sister seems like she’s made up her mind. Maybe that’s been her weakness, all this time. Maybe we were fools not to try it.”

All and all, it seemed like quite the place to live. Slow enough to be relaxed, but not so dull that he got bored. Were they just lucky that no disasters happened to imperil the town while they were visiting? Or maybe Ashton had exaggerated that part a bit.

By the time they stopped by the school, Emmet realized he was defeated. Ashton’s town was just more interesting than his own. Hoofhill had its purpose—it was a great place to adjust to the world he’d found himself in without getting overwhelmed by its incredible possibilities. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it didn’t really have what he wanted in a home.

Maybe this is the place after all. I wouldn’t mind saving the town every now and then. Maybe save these ponies from Ashton while I’m at it.

Chapter 6: Amargosa

It was some time after their tour of the city that Ashton finally returned. It had been so long that Violet insisted on making a trip back to spend a few hours with her school friends in Hoofhill. “I’ll be back by dark, promise!” And he had no reason to be worried for her. If anything, she was probably safer than he would be.

Emmet waved her goodbye from inside the castle courtyard. No trains for her, just an instant gateway from one place to another. He could probably get them too if he asked. Why didn’t we do that yesterday? Had the train been Ashton’s idea? He’s just so used to playing the game that he’s always playing.

The portcullis began to rise, jolting and rattling as it vanished into the stone and Axel’s carriage returned. Arcane Word didn’t walk out so much as fall out, slumping sideways onto the grass. Her armor was gone, and her body wrapped in several layers of bloody bandage. “I’m fine!” she insisted, glaring up at Axel as she tried to rise. The blood was dried, the bandages old.

Emmet’s stomach dropped from his chest, and he wanted to look away. It’s not real she can’t die in here it’s just a game. He knew that for himself, since he’d asked to see what happened when you died in Equestria. At least in these parts, death meant waking up in the underworld, and a solemn walk with Princess Luna along one of the underworld’s rivers. Which river depended on how you died, be it Styx, Lethe, Archeron, Phlegethon, or Cocytus.

“Why not just die and respawn?” he asked, hurrying over to her and offering his hoof to help her up.

“Because I’m Hardcore Ironman, obviously,” she said, as though that meant anything. Her horn glowed slightly as she walked, and her list of badges and achievements appeared. Sure enough, near the top was a bright orange and gold circle and a broken cross. Tiny text floating beside it read “Hardcore Ironman: Active 2 years, 17 days, 3 hours since creation.”

She shrugged past him, stumbling towards the building. “I have healing, uh… healing stuff inside. Help me with the door?”

He held it open for her, finding himself immensely grateful that his sister had decided to take a trip. Seeing someone she had started to like bleeding all over the carpet was probably not something a child needed in their life. “I thought you were resolving a contract dispute,” he muttered, trailing along after her. “Aren’t the ‘scene’ all honorable and perfect?”

“I thought so,” she answered, selecting a downward stairwell. She started to fall, and Emmet caught her by the shoulder, slinging her awkwardly onto his back. Just like so many other pony things he’d been doing, the instinct was all in there. “Hey!”

“Just tell me where to go. If you’re badly hurt, then moving as little as possible is the right thing to do.” True, his best friend wasn’t in any danger. He was probably sitting in one of Emmet’s own chairs right now, glaring down at a Ponypad and sipping a Mountain Dew. But still, apparently this account was something he cared about. Or maybe it was just seeing a pony in distress, triggering everything that he would’ve felt for another human not long ago.

“Right… there! That door.”

Lights came on as they entered, filling the room with an even electrical glow. It seemed more like a chemistry workshop than a hospital, with dozens of bottles all over the walls, in various colors. Ashton pointed up towards a lower shelf. “The pink one there, that’s regrow. If you could… get it onto these wounds, they’ll close, and I should heal in a few in-game days.”

There was a large cot in the center of the room, with a few dozen too many straps for Emmet’s liking. He tried not to think of what might’ve happened in it as he deposited Ashton there, and went for the bottles. He had to stand on the edge of a stool to reach up to them, and even then it was difficult. “You’re just playing at your desk, right? Why do you sound so hurt?”

“Character… does that,” Arcane wheezed. She rolled onto her back, pointing down towards her legs. “Got stabbed on my underbelly, those brown bandages there. If you get regrow in those before the guts go septic, I… I’d be thrilled.”

I wonder if you’d really be feeling the pain if you were in Equestria. Emmet had felt minor pains since he got here, banging his knee against a ledge, or looking up at the sun too quickly, or just the confusion whenever he saw something painted in color. But none of those equated to a stab wound in the guts.

At least all the blood and bandages made it easier to ignore how close he would have to get to treat the wound. “So what happened?” he asked, as he went to work. The inside of the Regrow glowed faintly when exposed to the air, and flowed like a thick paste. As soon as it touched Arcane’s body it moved as though it was animated on its own, wedging into the wound and making her tense and twitch with pain.

“Cold Iron was a prick,” Arcane hissed. “It was supposed to be an even split of every sale. But he didn’t sell the design, he traded the rights for some real-world property in Korea. How the hell am I supposed to collect on half of that? He said he tried so hard to reach me IRL, except I never heard from him once.”

The potion worked quickly, closing the opening in her coat and leaving a raw, pink-looking patch of skin behind. “And when you pressed, he attacked you?”

“No.” Arcane rolled her eyes. “I went to the one he traded with, some newcomer to the scene I’d never heard of. It’s a guild, one of the biggest I’ve ever seen. They don’t take kindly to being told that they don’t own the rights to something.”

“What about Celestia?” Treating her wasn’t exactly a comfortable process, but at least it lacked the grit and realism of real-world hospitals. There might be parts of Equestria where ponies had to be healed that way, but not here. “Can’t she… make things right?”

“Nope.” Arcane shook her head. As upset as she looked, she was already sounding better. “I didn’t do the exchange in her world, so she doesn’t care. It isn’t her job to enforce the arrangements I make outside her domain.”

Emmet worked in relative silence for the next few minutes, removing the rest of the bandages and tossing them into an open bin marked with a few simple words in Runescript. When they passed the edge of the bin, they vanished in a puff of smoke that didn’t rise very far into the room before disappearing completely. “Did you need the money?”

She twisted around, glaring at him like he’d just spoken another language. “Of course the hell not. What does anypony do with bits here in Equestria? I could have this whole town and castle the same without any work at all, if I asked for it. But it’s the principle of it, Domino. I don’t quite get in for the scarcity shards, it isn’t like that. But bits are something I can control. I worked for them, I sell the spells, I take home the reward. Not some… stupid guild using my discoveries.”

“There.” It seemed like right when Emmet finished with the last of Arcane’s wounds did the bottle finally run dry. Because it’s one dose, obviously. “So what do you do now?”

“Get even,” she growled. “But… not for a while. For now I have to do some research. See who benefited, how much they stole. Then make things inconvenient enough that they give me what I’m owed. Either that, or I take half of a Seoul apartment away from Cold Iron, without a signed contract and for no real reason. I don’t feel good about that.”

She rolled off the cot, catching herself on all fours and immediately starting to wobble. Emmet caught her by the shoulder, and she straightened against him, relying on him to stay standing. “S-sorry. Just fixing your holes doesn’t… heal everything up quite so fast. I’ve lost blood, my stats are probably in the trash right now.”

“Your stats,” he repeated. “I can’t tell you how strange that looks from where I’m standing. Someone tried to kill you, and you’re complaining about… whatever stats are.”

She shrugged, but didn’t pull away. That was enough for him. “Arcane, this might not be a good time. But with my sister gone, I… I think maybe it is. Can you do magic right now?”

“That depends.” She rested a hoof on his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. Those expressions were so alive. Everything about her seemed that way, right down to the dried blood on his hooves. He should really wash that. “What kind of magic do you need? Because I just told you my stats are shot to hell.”

“I asked Celestia about changing my, uh… avatar, I guess? My person? It’s just me, so I’m not sure if that word quite fits. Point is, I have permission.”

“And you didn’t just have her do it?” All her disappointment seemed wiped away, replaced with sudden interest. Maybe a little more than he was comfortable with. “It’s her system. She can just snap her hooves and… do anything you want. Well… anything she thinks will be satisfying to play. Not always the same thing.”

“I didn’t,” he admitted. He looked away, waiting for her to demand to know why.

But Arcane didn’t demand, just grinned wider. “If I have her permission, I won’t have to fight to get you into my sandboxed node. Or… connected with it. There’s not enough room for a human mind in there.” She started walking again, only stumbling for her first few steps.

But as lithe and elegant as she looked, she was still shorter than he was. She wouldn’t have gotten away even before her close brush with death. Besides, he knew where they were going. Up the stairs, and over to the ramp that led to perpetual sunshine. As Arcane climbed it, runes lit up along the edge of the ramp, spelling out who knew what.

Arcane Word obviously knew. Seeing all this, hearing her stories of intrigue, almost made him want to be a unicorn himself, and tinker with the fabric of Equestria the way she did. Maybe he would’ve taken that path, except for Violet. She wanted to go flying, and that had to take priority.

By the time they reached the doors, a sea of symbols filled the air so thick that he couldn’t look directly at her. The whole castle seemed to hum, shaking a little with it. “Horsefeathers,” Arcane swore, one hoof on the door. “I only started yesterday, I haven’t forwarded the ports on this Cisco swi—and we’re in!”

The doors rumbled open. Emmet could feel the boundary even before he saw onto the other side, an intangible threshold between the castle and what lie beyond.

His first thought was to an old Minecraft server they’d both been on, when the game was new and modding it was even newer. Chunks of unfinished structure populated a sparse, rocky expanse, with huge pillars of various sizes like something he might’ve seen in Monument Valley.

They were building interiors, not connected in any meaningful way. Much of what was beyond didn’t even pretend to follow Equestrian style, but used objects that looked—unfinished. There was a movie theater set right into the rock, with seats each identical. There was a row of firearms ripped out of some FPS or another, looking so simplistic that his eyes rejected them, and he instantly knew they were unreal.

“Don’t say a word,” Arcane called, sliding past him and shutting the doors with a kick. As she did, they vanished completely, leaving only an empty doorway. “I was in the middle of a dozen different projects before I… took a break from the game.”

Emmet turned, feeling a faint panic rising in his chest. Was he cut off from Equestria in here? He raised a hoof, and found a bracelet wrapped around it, one that hadn’t been there before. It was plain white elastic, matching his own coat perfectly. A black outline of Celestia’s cutie mark was embroidered there, always within reach.

I guess that’s her way of telling me I shouldn’t be afraid. No matter what Arcane has in here, I can get back.

“What is all this?” Emmet reached out, trying to take a crude rendition of some modern weapon or another. His hoof passed right through, and the outline fuzzed briefly. He pulled it back, eyes wide with surprise. Nothing in Equestria had ever done that before.

“You’ve seen my server, right? The one I used to keep under the folding table?” At his nod, she continued. “Well, I didn’t build it myself. I got it used from Hofvarpnir. It’s nonhuman hardware, nonhuman software. Making this place was the only way to make the hardware do what I wanted. It’s an ASIC, but for simulating instead of matrix multiplication or mining bitcoin.”

“Okay,” he answered. “I just won’t ask you about it, and you don’t have to tell me what that means.”

Arcane gestured forward again, towards a pile of shelves and mirrors some distance away. “That’s how I’d make comprehensive changes to an avatar, either mine or someone else’s. Since we have Celestia’s permission, this should be simple.”

It’s all for you, Violet. We’ll be able to fly together.

“What did you want to change, exactly? Everything, I guess. That boring black and white color-scheme… at least you’re not black and red. And are you sure about everything else?”

“I’m pretty sure I want to be a pegasus,” he said. “Or a bat, I guess. But the one bat I knew was just waking up when the sun was going down, and that doesn’t seem good. I don’t think I could take very good care of my sister if I had to sleep during the day.”

“Technically you don’t have to sleep at all,” Arcane interrupted. “It’s one of the things Celestia tried to use to convince me. I could crunch for a few weeks if I wanted and never get stressed out or need to stop what I was doing. I think ponies only sleep when they want to.”

“I think it must be… maybe because Violet’s so young? She sleeps every night, just like back home.” But now that he mentioned it, there was no way he did the same. He’d spent far too many days staring up at the sky at night, or reading pony books after she had fallen asleep. He hadn’t even thought to wonder until now.

The closer they came to the pile of boxes and mirrors, the more obvious it was just what they were really looking at. It was an outdoor wardrobe and changing area, with a patch of fancy wooden floor and a raised pedestal with mirrors from different angles. A little further away the cupboards and closets were thoroughly packed with clothes, pony accessories and outfits that would’ve fit perfectly in Wintercrest outside without any trouble.

“Just climb up there and we can get started,” she said, her voice sounding suddenly eager with anticipation. “This is gonna be fun. Probably for me more than you, but…” She sat down on her haunches abruptly, as though this was the matrix, and someone had pulled the jack out of her neck. Emmet took a few steps away, and didn’t comply with her instructions.

You almost had me, Ashton. Why do you always do something weird?

One of the three mirrors fuzzed, then changed. Suddenly it was a screen, shining out through what clearly wasn’t a Ponypad camera from the fuzz around the lines. It showed the interior of his little sister’s old bedroom—well, what had been her bedroom. The only sign of her presence now was the white paint on the walls. The furniture was gone, replaced with a desk stolen from one room and a few other accessories he’d never seen at all.

His friend sat at the computer chair, looking not quite the way he remembered. His face was gaunt, and there were circles under his eyes. Almost as though Arcane Word’s lingering injuries had translated out into the real world. The window was open, and somewhere far beyond he could hear a police siren, and a helicopter flying around towards… somewhere.

As the image settled there, Arcane Word vanished in a flash of magic, no different from any other unicorn teleport. Except that Emmet knew it wasn’t, the proof was right in front of him.

Had the sky over his hometown always been so gray? Or maybe that was just Equestria’s strange modifications working again. He approached the mirror cautiously, staring out at Ashton. At least this time he could think of it as Ashton explicitly, and not merge his memories of this human with the mare he’d been spending time with.

“That’s wild, Ashton. That you can… do this…”

“Not really.” He reached down, and sure enough there was a soda in his hand. “Talking to your relatives who emigrated already is common—you don’t need to go through half the trouble I did to make that work. It’s an intended feature. Where you’re standing is the impressive thing.”

“You drinking Coke is the impressive thing. Out of a glass bottle? What did you do with my best friend?”

Ashton glanced down, then looked away, a little self-consciously. “Pepsi shut down about… two months ago? Not too long after you left. Coke doesn’t use plastic bottles anymore. You have to turn in the…” He trailed off, then tossed it aside. “Whatever. World ending one day at a time, you remember that.”

Pepsi shut down? How could the world already be so far gone? Of course Emmet hadn’t drank any of that stuff himself, but now that it was gone… even an unimportant part of the world was something he could never get back. “I always thought that people would carry on after I left, you know? You didn’t really need me, but Violet did, so…”

“I guess everybody thinks that,” Ashton said. He had a laptop in front of him, and several vertical text windows open at once, skimming rapidly between them. “I’ve got access, like I thought. Damn, this is… I was so wrong about how you work.”

Emmet tensed, marching up to the edge of the mirror and glaring up at him. “I didn’t say you could start! We’re probably just going to switch me over to be a pegasus and be done. I don’t know why you have… whatever you have.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t have to understand any of this to change your avatar,” he said, snapping the laptop lid closed and picking up a tablet from the desk. This one looked brand new—a Ponypad, with the plastic case removed and a thin ribbon running away from it. Probably towards the server, though Emmet didn’t have a good view to confirm what he saw.

“That is not what I want to hear.” Without Arcane Word here to disarm him, it was harder to remember why he’d been willing to go along with such insane plans in the first place. Celestia could’ve fixed him with a snap. But his chosen surgeon started the operation by proclaiming his unfamiliarity with anatomy.

“Relax.” He put out one hand towards the camera. “Look, I know you don’t understand. I can’t mess with your head. Celestia would probably kill me if I tried something like that with one of her ponies.” He chuckled while he said it, but his eyes didn’t look away from the screen. There was real fear there, only haphazardly concealed.

“Anyway, climb up. It’s like putting off immunizations, just got to take the shots and move on. It hurts less if you get it over with. This won’t hurt at all, but…”

Emmet sighed and climbed up. Arcane better be happy I played along for this. “Fine. So I want to be a pegasus. And… I guess maybe I didn’t give my avatar the full consideration it deserved. It was just a way to talk to my sister back then. I would’ve made none if I could’ve. But the system doesn’t let you.”

“And you were upset with my choices,” Ashton muttered. Yet he was distracted, barely listening. He bent over the tablet, and in his tiny human eyes Emmet could make out a novel’s worth of scrolling text. Was all computer stuff so boring? You gave her your eyes.

“Pegasus,” he said, tapping the tablet with both fingers. Emmet felt a brief flash of heat, and a momentary wave of disorientation. He wavered on the pedestal, but managed to stay standing. Barely. And Ashton was right, it didn’t hurt. He couldn’t have put words to quite what he was experiencing, but pain wasn’t right.

The moment passed. He looked up, to one of the still-working mirrors. There were wings at his side. He twitched, and his mind expanded, pulsing into new spaces like a slime mold given a new petri-dish to grow in. He moved, and his body responded—the wing lifted. It was the color-blindness all over again, with hundreds of individual feathers assaulting his brain with the precise pressure on them, their angle and twist.

Emmet dropped to one knee, eyes momentarily glazing over.

“That was not supposed to happen,” Ashton muttered. “Shit, I fried him. Maybe if I…”

Emmet opened his mouth to stop him, but he was too late. The world lost focus again.

This time was much worse. He was falling up, yanked and stretched towards something he couldn’t see. His wings vanished, and a strange heat melted outwards from his core.

Emmet had no idea how long it had taken, but eventually the sensation faded. He groaned, sat up, and stared up at the mirror.

Well, maybe not he anymore. The mare staring back at him could’ve been Arcane’s own sister, with a similar creamy coat. Instead of a rose-colored mane, hers was pastel green, but otherwise…

“Ashton!” His voice was different. How was it so smooth all of a sudden, so high? “Ashton, you’re going to fix this right now!”

He looked up again, and his expression went suddenly unreadable. “Well buck me. And we’re in my stable of new NPCs for Wintercrest. You’re my younger sister, Spellbound.”

“No, I’m not.” Emmet hopped off the pedestal, sticking right up to the mirror and trying to shove right through it. But the glass wouldn’t yield, he couldn’t reach out into the real world and strangle him. “I’m Emmet and I did not sign up to become somepony else.” He shivered, closing his eyes against the wave of strange sensations assaulting his mind. “I can feel it, Ashton. I can feel everything and I really don’t want to.”

Ashton’s expression swirled into something Emmet couldn’t quite read. Probably more confusion created by the body he didn’t understand, and didn’t want to have. I should’ve just let Celestia do this.

Ashton set the tablet down, grinning into the mirror. “I guess I should’ve realized you would. You’re in there for reals, so you would… experience everything.” He sighed. “Sure you don’t want to try her for awhile? I sort of imagined Spellbound as the superego to my id, keeping me from going too off the rails. You’re basically already playing her.”

“Great.” Emmet stomped one hoof. “Now make it go away. I don’t want to be a mare.” It wasn’t just the voice. There were enough mirrors to know the change was complete. He could ignore the physical sensations for a while, but…

“Right. We just have to cycle through the templates I was toying with, and we’ll get to the new one I just saved.”

“Wait, what—”

The world dropped out from under Emmet again. Suddenly he was falling, the world rushing up to meet him. He wasn’t dazed for nearly as long this time—though part of that might be that there were no new organs to worry about. When he finally settled into one shape, he was… tiny.

It wasn’t just size. It felt like his thoughts were tiny too. He was uncomfortable and afraid and didn’t want to be here. Ashton was supposed to fix something, but what was it again? He whimpered, looking up at the mirrors.

He didn’t look right. He had stripes, and Arcane’s pink for his mane. He didn’t look that way! If Violet were here, she probably would’ve been almost as tall as he was, that wouldn’t be fair at all! “Ashy, why am I… why are you bigger?”

“I’m not,” he answered. He wasn’t looking at Emmet much, but down at something flat in his hands with lots of words. But he didn’t sound afraid, and that was a little better. If Ashton was afraid, that meant he should be too. If Ashton thought this was okay, then… “That confirms my theory. My spell isn’t—” and it got harder to understand from there. Emmet’s eyes glazed over, and he turned away.

It really had been some time since he saw Violet, he should fix that. Besides, she’d be more fun to play with than a weird animal on a screen that was also somehow his friend.

He dropped to the ground again, overwhelmed with pressure. His body stretched and expanded, releasing the pressure around his thoughts. Disaster averted. God help me if I’d wandered back into Equestria like…

He rose, wings opening by reflex. That sensation didn’t overwhelm him again, since he’d felt it so clearly the first time. But as things settled back into place, he saw something light blue extending out in front of his face, ending in a sharp point. “Buck, I thought I was fixed this time.”

“Oh good.” Ashton was pressed right up against the screen now—a different screen, which meant the mirror showed only the side of his face. He pulled back, turning to the camera. “I guess playing my lovechild with the Zebrica ambassador isn’t for you either.”

“What?” Emmet’s mouth hung open for a few seconds. At least he was a he again this time. He returned to the mirrors, staring at the face of a half-pony, half-bird creature. Taller than a pony, but not quite as overwhelmingly large as the single griffon he’d met so far. “Ashton, how many more of these are there?”

“A… few.” He blushed, taking the tablet in both hands. In that instant, Emmet felt a strange double-vision, as though he were looking at both Arcane Word and Ashton simultaneously. They were the same person, somehow. Impossibly. “Look, think of the positives! You’d never get to try being a hippogriff otherwise! There are people who would kill for a preview of season two’s characters. Yet here you are, uh… demoing them? I don’t really know.”

Emmet glared stubbornly back at his friend. Maybe this was the pony he’d been spending time with—or maybe Arcane Word really had been him all along. But that didn’t mean he had to be happy about this. “I have no idea what that means. I guess you’re talking about the stories you make up for Wintercrest?” He extended one claw, flexing it. It sent pins-and-needles up and down his leg, and momentarily it almost felt like he had an arm again. Was he on hands-and-knees?

He tried to stand up, and flopped uselessly to one side. He climbed back a moment later, banishing the strange sensation as best he could. “I want to be a pegasus, that’s all. I don’t need to be younger, or older, or female, or…”

“I know that now!” Ashton didn’t look back at the camera, his eyes intently focused on the tablet. “But now that we’re cycled, I don’t know how to get your old avatar back except by going all the way back around to the front of the list, where he’s saved.”

“Great.” Emmet sat down on his haunches, wings folding to his sides. “Exactly how many more of these do I have to go through?”

“Uh…” Ashton’s voice dropped to a squeak. “Seventeen.” Before Emmet could start swearing at him, Ashton pushed the button again. It was a long afternoon after that.

Chapter 7: Smith

Ashton was a little disappointed to see that after cycling through so many different avatars, so many different options and possibilities, Emmet settled on a pony that looked almost exactly the same as the one he’d been when he came in, just a pegasus instead of an earth pony. Even if some part of him had known it would end that way—that part of him had a right to feel put out, so far as he was concerned.

Of course, the rest of him was so busy digesting all this new data that he could barely find enough space in his head to be disappointed. All this time he’d been forced to tread on eggshells with his cast of NPCs, lest he grow too attached and find they had become immutable. But now things were different. Celestia didn’t force him to follow all her rules, there was no buildup.

He had a real person in his sandbox. Or connected to it, the difference for a full Equestrian was still a little lost on him. For a second, Ashton had seen into the inner-workings of a real pony, or at least an abstract high enough for his mind to comprehend. Could a whole mind be distilled into a binary tree? Or was that interface layer constructed purely for people like him who dreamed they could understand what Equestria’s creator had wrought?

Ashton watched with at least a little satisfaction as Emmet finally returned to the castle, where Violet was waiting. She squealed about flying lessons before hugging Ashton’s avatar, thanking her for her “powerful magic.” But he wasn’t really paying attention by then.

“Does that mean you’ll be staying?” he asked, where he was sure Violet would be in earshot. “Instead of going back to that dreadful earth pony town you traveled up from?

“PLEASE?” Violet begged, turning on her brother like a shark. “Please say we’re staying, Domino!”

He sighed, glaring at Ashton. “Yes,” he finally said. “I should say no, after… but I guess that was an accident. It was an accident, Arcane?”

“Yes,” he answered instantly. “Of course! I could show you my console if you wanted!” He couldn’t, or not very easily. Runescript was required to make even a tiny bit of sense out of what that console would show, and Emmet didn’t have even an introductory background.

“No.” He reached out, patting the avatar on the shoulder. Then he opened his wings a little, watching them as though each motion was real and felt. Maybe it was—Ashton didn’t actually know what it meant to be a pony. Clearly they could feel, or Emmet had taught him they could feel. At the start he hadn’t even felt they were alive. On an intellectual level maybe, but not really.

“I want my things,” Violet said. “And maybe… say goodbye to some of my friends. But not really. I can still see them whenever I want.”

Because you’re living in a universe of dust. None of that is real. Probably none of them are either. But what would you know? You’re six.

“I might want to make some changes,” Emmet went on. “Assuming you want us living in the castle with you at all. I’m sure Celestia could arrange for somewhere else. Axel’s family is in the townhomes near the wharf, those seemed comfortable.”

“Don’t try to lock us in a tiny room again!” Violet called, glowering at him. “I want to be in a castle. I want to sleep on a princess bed. I want to have a room just for my stuffed animals. Arcane, can you tell my brother not to be weird about it?”

“You shouldn’t be weird about it,” he repeated obediently. Well, that was how he said it. Arcane added some of her own emphasis—what Ashton would’ve said if he was paying more attention to the game and not still skimming Wireshark’s packet records of the time Emmet had been connected to the server.

They confirmed what he’d thought—incoming requests had been minimal, not much more sophisticated than what might be sent in any online game. The really interesting stuff was sent the other direction. His Razer didn’t have a way of parsing them, but he would’ve bet money that they’d look like state transitions for a binary tree.

“Arcane, are you still here?” Emmet asked, waving a hoof in front of the screen.

Ashton winced, nearly dropping the expensive laptop. He leaned forward, actually focusing on the Ponypad for a moment. “Sorry. I’ve just been thinking about… what you’ll do in the castle! And some changes you’d like to make. I’ve got the old blueprints downstairs, maybe we can take a look after dinner. If you want to knock down a few walls, build a new wing… that’s all doable. And don’t worry about the usual laws of space and euclidean geometry unless you want to.”

Violet didn’t seem to know what that meant, but she also didn’t seem to care. Attention was all she wanted—maybe of a kind that Emmet couldn’t give her. “But I’ve got a job for your brother if he wants to earn some bits. Unless he’d rather go out and work somewhere else… or nowhere. So far as I’m concerned, I still owe you…”

He looked down, counting on his hands for a moment. On the huge projector, Arcane actually created the illusion of hands to make the same gesture, something he’d never actually seen in Equestria before. It was a little disorienting when projecting on so large a wall. “A lot. A whole lot.”

“Can we get flying lessons for him here?” Violet asked, voice eager. “Emmet needs to learn, just like I did. That’s the rules.”

“I’ll call someone,” he promised. “Maybe even another emigrant, if I can find one. They do like—you like to stick together. Solidarity in a world full of native-born ponies.”

Again, the child didn’t understand half of what he’d said, that was clear. But she also seemed satisfied with the answer he’d given.

Over the next few days, Ashton checked in on his new guests as often as he could. Knowing someone was in that old castle was a constant reminder of the part of his life he had left behind.

Of course there were other things he should’ve been thinking about. His family’s financial troubles might be over, but the world they lived in was only getting more precarious. Not dangerous. It wasn’t other people that he was afraid of.

His world was balanced on a crust of ice, and it was melting.

But it wasn’t his world to save. Ashton couldn’t even save his best friend, what was he supposed to do?

Graduate, for one. Every high school in the county might be boiled down to a single facility, and half the nation’s universities might be suffering financial trouble, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t potentially get a degree.

For all the jobs I’ll be getting with one.

One thing he didn’t do was carefully manage the funds Emmet’s family had passed to him, or the controlling interest they had once held in a large construction firm. How long did that money need to last, anyway, five years? And what will we do after that?

His parents weren’t working anymore, and he didn’t blame them. None of them really knew how to spend so much money.

He visited the castle as often as he could, both to work on his projects and to check on its permanent residents. It was on one such visit that he found Emmet poking around his control room, probably trying to get around the magical locks.

“Hey, Arcane!” He straightened as he passed, blushing and looking away. “Shouldn’t you be at school around now?”

He glanced at the window behind him, fearing for one terrible second that he might’ve completely lost track of time. But no—it was dark outside, and the clock behind him read “seven.”

“We’re out of sync,” he said. “We weren’t when you moved in, but… it happens. Shards don’t follow arbitrary time.”

Emmet’s face fell. “What does that mean? Have you been… manipulating me somehow?”

“No, Celestia has.” He sent his avatar up to the magical locks, then undid them with a few passwords and careful twists of her hooves. Soon enough the door clicked and swung open. “You wanted in here?”

He hesitated, then took a few steps forward into the doorway. “How does she manipulate us?”

“Manipulate is… too strong.” Arcane stepped out of the way, letting Emmet wander into the control room where he would have free access to the machines there. “It’s not wrong, but… wrong implications. It’s about the perception of time. A human mind on meat runs at one speed. The chemical and electrical activity combined form your conscious experience. Well, mine. Yours is simulated, running on silicon. Or… probably not at this point. Whatever it uses, processors have a clock that tell them to step forward to the next instruction. Change the speed of the clock and you change the speed of the mind. She could run yours, say, twice as fast. And one hour to me would feel like two to you. Or a hundred times as fast, or more.”

“That explains so much.” He sat back on his haunches in front of the screen, eyes going distant. “A few days ago, a Verifier team passed through Wintercrest, while you were out. They visited your sandbox for a bit, wanted to see… something. But their unicorn claimed she had been living in Equestria for over a decade. Which seemed impossible, but…”

“But you didn’t call her on it because she was a pretty unicorn and you didn’t know how to talk to her.”

“I…” He glared. “It’s easy to judge when you’re out there. Once you’re in here, it doesn’t seem weird. But no, that wasn’t why. She seemed like… she could blast me into paste if she wanted, then level the castle.”

Ashton froze. Emmet had said Verifier, and apparently she’d wanted to see the sandbox? Celestia sent someone when I wasn’t around. He flipped open his laptop, skimming through its access logs. He hadn’t been sniffing packets—his server would quickly drown him if he did that all the time. But he did keep an access record, and sure enough: four “authorized” calls into his server from an IP address he didn’t recognize. His firewalls and layers of security spells hadn’t stopped them—they hadn’t even been activated.

Finally he set the laptop down, looking back at the camera. “Yeah, you made the right call not fucking with her.” He knew Equestria wouldn’t let him swear most of the time—he didn’t self-censor. Let Celestia do the hard work if she cared so much. “Was she… upset?”

“She called you criminally disorganized and suggested something called a processing overlay template for you to use to improve your productivity.” He reached to one side, digging around in his pack until he found an etched sliver of glass, which began to glow the instant it was removed. Arcane Word took it in her magic, illuminating the spell inside for Ashton to see.

To see maybe, but not to make any sense of. It was another state transition on a binary tree, or maybe some kind of filter? This is a brain mod. There’s no way someone good enough to get into my system doesn’t also know I’m human and can’t use this.

Ashton teleported it away anyway, eager for the chance to thoroughly dismantle and study however it was constructed. In only a few days, a whole new field of Equestrian modding was opening to him. You’re trying to stop me from leaving again, aren’t you Celestia. “Well, I guess you never got a chance to see this place. A shame, because I could use an assistant. I know we talked about it earlier.”

“It does look…” Emmet skimmed the displays, his eyes darting from one screen to the next. “Advanced. I never thought I’d see that old house again.”

“Yeah.” Ashton glanced up at the corner of his room, where a camera faced his computer desk from the side. He’d made sure the bed and wardrobe weren’t in its field of view, as though he cared what Celestia or any other online system thought. She already had his medical records and every secret he’d ever had, so what difference could it make? “Well, you can see it from all angles now. Or most angles. Not the bathrooms and bedrooms, but the rest of it. And those switches are for the lights, and the sound systems, and the sprinklers… basically anything that can be operated remotely.”

“Why?” Emmet asked. “What’s the point of having a light switch that can be operated from inside Equestria?”

He shrugged. “It’s not a light switch, it’s everything. Having someone who can set things up for me when I need them. A digital assistant, basically. Turning things on, ordering pizza… so much of the world is online these days, and you can access almost all of it from in here. So long as Celestia’s censorship hasn’t gotten stricter, that is. I don’t actually… know…”

Emmet approached the chair, and it retracted on its own, twisting to face him. It was an Equestrian model, clearly made for ponies. But that was perfect here. Like most things in this room, it had been chosen by his last assistant to make the job as simple as possible, since Ashton’s ability to do things with hooves wasn’t terribly realistic.

Emmet sat down, and the chair slid immediately forward, and several keypads extended towards it, overlapping on several distinct heights to put as many buttons and switches as possible within easy reach.

“Is it cool if I…”

“It’s your house,” Ashton said. “The switches on the right are all in my room, so if you mess with those nobody will know.

He reached down, flipping a switch. The lights on his ceiling went bright pink. Another switch, and a fan near the side of his room started blowing. “You can see through the camera there,” Ashton said, pointing at one of the screens. They were black and white, so they wouldn’t depict the full range of what the lights could do. But Ashton didn’t expect he would use those features too often anyway.

“Woah.” Emmet flipped a few more. “Out in the real world, huh? I didn’t know it was allowed.”

“It’s more common than you think,” Ashton answered. “I heard about a college kid who got to finish his degree after he emigrated. And if you’d been paying attention at Equestria IRL, there were these little rolling drones with screens on the top—those are her tech. She could probably make robotic ponies for everyone if she really wanted to, but she doesn’t.”

“What about you?” he asked. “Could you build a drone I could control in Equestria?”

He nodded absently. “It would be piss easy, probably. I’ve already cracked the API, so I can basically make the whole thing sing any song I want so far as sending information back and forth. We’d need a live video feed, which you can see I got. I’m actually using some legacy support in the backend for the old Hasbro REST interfaces that used to be open for regi—you’re not listening.”

“I’m listening,” Emmet corrected, raising his voice just a little and glaring. “I’m just not understanding. Big difference.”

“Maybe we should try giving you the brain-mod that Celestia’s Verifier left,” Ashton suggested, though he trusted Equestria to convey just how humorous he thought the suggestion actually was. “Might teach you how to code.”

“It would not,” Emmet said, glowering. “And I will not. After learning how to be… young, old, female, a dragon, twins… I think I’ve had enough of mods with you. I think I’ll wait until you try it before I take a chance with something like that.”

“I can’t try anything, I’m human.” He sat back in his chair, kicking off the wall so that he spun around once in a slow circle. Let Celestia try and interpret that.

From the screen, Arcane Word spun in place, making Emmet flip a few more switches until he stopped, and she did too.

“Could you turn my lights back on, Emmet? It’s kinda hard to see what I’m doing.”

He flicked them back on. “Could you make me a drone?”

“Yeah,” he answered, thinking through what it might take. He’d probably use a flying quadcopter, rather than the wheeled vehicles that were Celestia’s own preference. “You never told me why you wanted it.”

“I…” He struggled, but ultimately didn’t answer. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t. Maybe nothing. Probably nothing, honestly. It just feels like… it’s the kind of thing I should have? Like maybe I could still go on an occasional trip out there in meatspace.”

Then you shouldn’t have left. But Ashton didn’t want to travel down that road again, not when he’d apparently got his best friend back. Even if it was just as a virtual guest of his virtual castle. “What about the assistant thing?” he asked. “My last one walked, and it’s been really… inconvenient. You wanted to go on adventures with me, this is a way.”

Emmet glanced around the control room again, reaching out with a hoof and flicking another switch at random. “All this?”

“All this, plus other virtual assistant stuff. Appointments, ordering pizza… but basically this, yeah.”

“I’ll… try it,” Emmet said. “For a while. I’m going kinda stir-crazy doing nothing but flying lessons and taking care of Violet. She’s so independent, she doesn’t need me nearly as much as she used to. I think she’s healing. Err—more.”

“Excellent!” Ashton approached the controls, leaning close to Emmet. “Pay attention while I go over all this. I’m putting a lot of trust in you. But if I was going to trust anyone, it would be you.”

He showed Emmet everything, showed him all the manuals and notes that Daygear had kept. Everything that might be represented digitally in the virtual assistant’s cloud storage here had a real, physical representation. Calendars, an old rotary phone for making calls, a phone book. And the computer, the most impressive part of the whole lot.

But ultimately it wasn’t just getting an assistant back that excited Ashton. Emmet was more than just a useful pony at the right time.

His friend spent the first few days adjusting to the job, and the first few weeks perfecting his control of the interface. Ashton made use of his services at all hours, thanks to the same phone interface that he could use to look out at Wintercrest when he was on the go.

According to Emmet, that meant an annoying screeching sound coming from down the hall until he answered it—but there was basically no delay any time Ashton made a request—Emmet was always there, ready to help.

He didn’t get in the way of the things Emmet wanted to do in Equestria. Learning to fly seemed like fun, even if Ashton knew it would be forever out of his reach. Wings were cool and all, but giving up magic was a sacrifice too high.

Wintercrest was threatened a few times, though the attacks that came were so petty that Violet was able to rise up and fill that role. Soon enough she was the town’s hero, utterly unambiguously. She didn’t make ponies vanish in the night and replace them with new ones, even if she did live in the same castle.

As the school year went on, Ashton did his best to keep up with studies that seemed increasingly irrelevant in the face of a world that probably wouldn’t last the decade. School was cool or whatever, but his real life was in Equestria.

Thanks to what he’d seen, Ashton no longer needed to recapture the intellectual property Cold Iron had traded away. His last generation of NPC mods were about to look like crude imitations compared to what he was building.

“You know this is pointless, right?” Emmet asked from beside him in the sandbox. He’d been working for several hours, on his own behavior framework this time. There would be no kidnapping a pony from the town and forcing them into a shape they’d never meant to be. This pony would be his.

“Because Celestia can do in a few seconds what I’ve spent three months on?” Ashton asked, setting the laptop down. “Because people already bought ‘good enough’, and they won’t be interested in ‘better’?”

“No.” Emmet waved a dismissive wing, settling the notepad down. True to his job, he’d been taking notes, scribbling anything Ashton said. Through methods not entirely clear to him, Emmet could even transcribe mind-state graphs with some acumen, even after hearing only vague descriptions. “Because Equestria will be the only thing left pretty soon.”

Ashton relaxed. The game had apparently interpreted his defensiveness as so great that Arcane Word even summoned a glow from her horn while he spoke. “I’m not sure why that makes learning how to operate it pointless. Seems like it would make this job more valuable.”

“It does.” Emmet circled the skeleton in front of them. It wasn’t a literal skeleton in this case, but a generic earth-pony mare with gray colors and unblinking eyes. She hadn’t spoken yet, hadn’t done anything more complicated than breathing. But she was simulating that pretty good now.

“Ashton, why aren’t you in here? You’ve been eligible for… three years? It hasn’t cost money for ages now, and Celestia would’ve paid your way before that. I know she loves getting computer ponies.”

Ashton didn’t answer for a long time, glancing between the screen to the server and back. But it wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about the question. He just didn’t want to present it to Celestia—if he gave his reasons, then that would be more tools to undo him.

“I think it’s not fair. Making everybody come to Equestria like she has… Celestia didn’t have to do this. When she started out, it was life extension. Like for your little sister. Or for old people in Japan. I think her technology is great for them, even if the whole ‘being a pony’ thing is a stupid rule.”

Emmet avoided his eyes—or seemed to, anyway. He picked up the notepad from where he’d dropped it, went back to looking at the model pony for defects. “It’s not weird once you’re switched,” he said, voice low. “I know it seems weird. I thought it would be weird too. But it’s not. You wake up, and you’re a horse, and…”

“Why do you care all the sudden?” Ashton asked. “Wait, don’t answer. Celestia put you up to asking me, right? Family and friends are her best tool.” He could see the recognition there, and a little bit of hurt. Your motivations aren’t that hard to read, Emmet. How long have we known each other?

“It’s about… permanency,” Emmet finally answered. “Nothing Celestia said. She thinks I’m your best chance of emigrating, but that’s not why I’m saying this.” He gestured, removing several large rolls from the saddlebag he was wearing. They unfolded into waxy poster-prints, posters of news articles he’d apparently found online.

They weren’t good. Exports of every nation plummeting, Experience Centers burned to the ground, or the realization that another remote village was completely gone from existence.

Emmet settled on one. “Senate Upset Sees an End for Suffrage for Pony Americans.”

“You’re… upset you don’t get to vote?” Ashton guessed. “That’s really what bothers you, after… downloading to a computer and everything?”

“No, no. That’s stupid. I couldn’t care less. It’s more about… Arcane, this is the beginning of something. Everypony knows it is. I’ve heard it from three separate ponies, all with friends out there. They’re losing contact with the Outer Realm. Celestia even put out a statement for us. I… probably wouldn’t be allowed to repeat it even if I tried, but she knows everything is going to come apart.”

“But…” Ashton was glaring at the screen now. He no longer cared that it might make Emmet upset. “The only reason any of this is happening is she won’t wait until we’re ready. I’m sure everyone on Earth would be willing to emigrate over dying—but she can’t wait. She wants us all now, so she plays the most dangerous game of Jenga ever. Sooner or later there’s no more blocks left to pull, and any of them will bring the tower down.”

“Yes,” Emmet agreed. “You can’t stop her, nopony can. But you shouldn’t stay there to die just because you don’t agree with her methods.”

Ashton didn’t even bother answering. He slammed the laptop shut and stormed off, leaving his digital assistant to pick up the pieces.

Chapter 8: Owens

Ashton took a few days off Equestria. His sale of mods and spells didn’t need him to keep it up, and not just because there were ponies in the castle to make sure potential visitors got personal attention. He just needed a little time to think, and he wasn’t going to get it in Equestria.

He found his mind drifted back anyway, imagining his transitional diagrams and the signal propagation that could be combined to form a pony. Not a real one—he would probably never be creating minds the way Celestia did. Even if he could’ve snapped his fingers and had that power, he wouldn’t have wanted to. The world where fallible beings like himself could create life was a terrifying one to be in, one he didn’t even want to visit.

There was high school, for all hundred students in his class. People left so frequently now that the teachers left behind didn’t even bother taking attendance anymore. If you missed a whole week, it was just assumed your family had emigrated or left the city, and your stuff was cleaned up.

There were soldiers outside the school that day—two men in US Army digital camouflage with modern-looking rifles slung over their shoulders. They folded their arms and looked imposing behind their sunglasses—but that was it.

At least until an announcement came over the intercom during first period. “Attention students. In accordance with the newly issued Preservation Statute, it is no longer lawful to possess, maintain, or access Celestial hardware in places like schools, libraries, and other places of public accommodation. You will each be searched, and any contraband confiscated. Thank you for your cooperation.”

The joke was on them—Ashton was avoiding Equestria. He told the soldiers as much when they finally got around to his class, and he turned his backpack empty himself.

Of course, even if I wasn’t avoiding it, I wouldn’t bring a Ponypad to school.

Half of the other students in the class apparently didn’t think the same way, because there were a dozen Ponypads confiscated by the end of the block. And not just confiscated. A soldier snapped each one clean in half, tossing the pieces into a bin with no regard for their complaints.

“You’re wasting your time,” one of the other students said—a tall girl with a thick accent “There are more.”

The soldier—his patch said “Collins”—stopped and stared at Kylie, expression harsh.

“You should know better. We have to fight together, or die. Do you want to go extinct?”

“No,” she said, backing away defensively. “I just want to talk to my friends.”

Ashton, by contrast, received only praise for having “none of that pony shit” on him, nevermind that half his notebooks had Runescript scrawled in the margins.

“This is how it ends, isn’t it?” Kylie said, as soon as the soldiers were gone. She was talking to the class, but it was their teacher who answered.

Their civics teacher, and math teacher, and PE teacher, and janitor Mr. Strait, rapped his fingers several times on his desk, until the angry muttering subsided. “America has faced hazards before. Often we have to work together in some unconventional ways to survive. We planted victory gardens to fight the Nazis. Maybe some broken tablets are this generation’s contribution to the war.”

You don’t even believe that. Ashton didn’t call him on it, though. The guilt in his voice was enough.

But however upset Emmet might’ve made him, school was so much worse that he flipped almost instantly in the other direction, pulled out his phone, and called collect to Equestria. He was still taking the bus home—not so much because he had to, as because having the money to buy gas these days would’ve made him stand out. He was already out of place enough without calling attention that didn’t need to be there.

He picked up the phone, opened the terminal, and invoked one of his scripts. The phone flashed, and started ringing. As usual, Emmet answered after only a few seconds. “Ashton?”

He slipped his headset over his ears, sitting back in his seat. “Hey.”

“Only a few hours this time, huh? Not staying away for months?”

A few hours? Celestia was bending time again—for his benefit this time. Why? “Guess I’m not. Though I’m not sure how…” He wasn’t the only one complaining about what had happened at school, right now. Half the other students were on the phone. You know they can listen to everything you say, right?

Not him, though. The only thing they’d be able to see from his phone was that he was connected to a VPN somewhere in Eastern Europe. He hoped. “Things are getting, uh… unpredictable, on this side.” First it’s calling Ponypads weapons and confiscating them in school. How long until they’re breaking into your house to do the same?

“That sounds bad,” Emmet answered. “Unpredictable, like… what? More rationing?”

“Oh, sure. Only buy your groceries a few days a week. But that isn’t really an issue for us anymore.” If you had enough money to pay way more than the going rate, you could shop at stores that never closed. Now they had the money, and maybe not even that much time left to spend it.

“It seems like they’re trying to cut our worlds apart. Soldiers just marched through class trashing everybody’s Ponypads, and anything else that looked like it had Celestia’s branding.”

“Buck me,” Emmet whispered, his voice seeming suddenly distant. “But I guess that… makes sense. It’s getting worse.”

Ashton froze, expecting the reminder that he needed to emigrate right now or face certain death. But it didn’t come. In a way, it was worse. “Have your family made plans?”

“No,” he lied.

“Maybe you should. Even if you’re not coming in here, how much longer until…” He trailed off. None of them even knew what would come next. Ashton did his best to follow politics, but it had become more depressing than it was worth lately. “What does someone even do if they’re not going to emigrate?”

“Go north,” Ashton suggested. “Out of the cities. Maybe to the Midwest. There are some towns that are pretty self-sufficient. Farmers, miners, that kind of thing. My dad has family in Utah, so we’ll probably go there.”

Still a lie, but at least it sounded convincing. He stepped off the bus, and now he only had a few hundred meters to walk past the gate to his neighborhood and up a steep driveway to the oversized house. “Can you get the back gate for me?” It clicked a second later, and he slipped inside, past where his parents were yelling about something in the front room. If they didn’t see him, he wouldn’t have to take a side.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Emmet said, his voice sounding like he was a little further away. “There was a report here for you, from the Verifier. She would’ve told you about it in person, but you weren’t here, so…”

Ashton waited for it, but all he got was a swear. “Buck, I think I might’ve slipped it away by mistake. Hold on, I left it by the pool.”

Ashton smiled weakly, slipping through the backdoor into the house, dodging around the corner as quickly as he could, and scampering silently up the stairs. He slipped into his room a second later, and still Emmet hadn’t answered.

A plan immediately possessed him, one that involved sneaking up on his friend while he was searching for the misplaced report. He scooped up his Ponypad from the charger, then dodged past the cameras and flipped the lights off again. There were no cameras on the third floor, so he took it up there, flopping sideways on an old couch and removing the flat controller from the side of the device.

He logged in as usual, muting his phone mic with one hand so the characteristic sound wouldn’t make its way back to Emmet if he happened to walk in at that moment. But the call wouldn’t show visuals, so he couldn’t know when Emmet returned until he actually spoke.

He appeared in the castle atrium, not where he’d logged out. Ashton glanced around the hall, then teleported up the stairs and started walking forward. It had the quietest animation cycle of any other way a pony could move.

Maybe he shouldn’t be wasting his time with stupid games, when school had already shown him that civic order was collapsing around him. But on the other hand, he wasn’t sure what else he could do. If he tried to process everything at once, he would lose his mind.

A single door was open other than the control room, the one that was now painted bright pink. Childish pop music echoed out from inside, but Ashton ignored it. Violet probably wouldn’t notice him.

“Arcane!” called a voice from inside. A second later a young face emerged, grinning up at him. Her face was an absolute mess of colorants, her mane tangled and twisted into something that was trying to be formal. In reality, it made his brain hurt just to see what she’d done. “Arcane, are you busy?”

Yes. “No.” He stopped, sighing. It wasn’t like he really needed to pick on Emmet that badly. “What’s up? You’re, uh… wearing a dress!”

“Yeah.” She smiled proudly. “But I don’t really, uh… know how to make things work together? I asked Domino to help, but he said he would only make it worse.”

Or he’s just afraid to try for no good reason. “Why would you want my help?”

“Because you’re pretty,” Violet answered. “Everypony says so. Even Domino thinks so. So you must know how.”

“I…” Ashton blusheed, and not just in the game anymore. “I’m not sure I…” He wasn’t sure how to argue after that, though some part of him wanted to. A small part, though. Arcane Word was supposed to be pretty.

He followed her into the bedroom. It was larger than would be practical in the real world, with an upper level missing any handrails that would interfere with easy flying to the huge cloud bed at the bottom. She’d set up a huge lighted mirror beside the old wardrobe, which was the only part of original furniture still here.

“Let’s start with your mane.” He began magicking the six different elastic bands out of her hair. “That can relax while we, uh… find something that matches a little better. Do you like those stockings more, or that dress?”

Ashton curled up sideways on the couch, tossing his backpack aside and squinting down at the screen. All the while he kept glancing back at his phone, expecting to see that he’d been disconnected. Or at least hear Emmet coming back. But he didn’t.

He went through Violet’s closet with her, sorting her pony outfits by color and type using a spell he used to keep his own inventory organized. It worked as well on clothing as it did on weapons or stored books.

“But to really know how to help, you’ve got to tell me why you’re dressing up,” Ashton said, after he’d finally cleaned up the mess on Violet’s face. Arcane Word circled behind her, tossing aside the various makeup containers that clearly had no purpose beyond playing dress up.

“The mayor has a dinner planned tonight,” she said proudly. “They want to give me a thing, for… stopping the earthquake last week. Emmet said it was ‘black tie’, but I don’t have any ties. I thought I’d just do a dress instead.”

“You’re right.” That eliminated almost everything she owned. “How about this? It’s not pink, but the dark blue matches your coat better. Then we can use these to lighten your face a little…” He pushed them forward too.

It didn’t take that long, once Violet knew what she wanted. There were spells for hairstyling, though it didn’t look like Arcane was actually using them. He used a comb and a brush, lifting Violet’s mane up into a complex bun with a braid behind lined with sparkling extensions. She was six.

Hooves pounded up the hall behind her, and he heard what had to be Emmet running as quickly as he could.

“Big brother, you should come in and—”

“No time sis, I’ve kept Arcane waiting for almost an hour…”

Ashton winced, pushing the Ponypad away. Oh crap.

“She’s in here!” Violet called. “You’re not mad at my brother, are you?”

“No,” he answered. “But, uh… I think I’ve gotta go…” He reached up, switching off the Ponypad. He knew that would mean his character teleporting awkwardly away. But that was easier than the alternative.

When Emmet first arrived in Equestria, a part of him had trouble enjoying its story and ceremony. That was probably why Celestia had spawned him in Hoofhill, where nothing of pomp and circumstance ever happened. Earth ponies lived their lives, with no pretense about a wider story or a world beyond what they did. Their lives were made of simple friendships, though Emmet had never been tied down to any of them.

That was your work too, wasn’t it? Emigrating to Equestria had made Emmet just a little religious. Whenever anything happened, there was a part of him that wondered how it factored into Celestia’s plans. Only Ashton’s wildfire unpredictability kept him from converting to that mindset—while the rest of the world always seemed to work together, Ashton provided a view back into a world where that hadn’t been true.

Not so in the world Arcane Word had created, though. Emmet watched the ceremony with mild interest, mostly from the back. The city’s “Deputy Mayor”—the highest officer who wasn’t Arcane herself—presented little medals to each of a dozen different ponies. Among them was the earth pony engineer Acanthus, who had nearly given Emmet a heart attack when he spoke in a slightly higher version of Ashton’s voice. His little speech about the foundation of the city and his time in engineering were enough to solidify the truth so far as Emmet was concerned.

Your family is in here, Ashton. Do you even know? He made a mental note to talk to the pony when he got the chance, though some part of him was a little less comfortable in the chair. That pony was a human, using a ponypad. Would he look at ponies the way Ashton did?

No, apparently. He gave his speech, took his trophy, and got in line with the rest.

Somehow either Celestia or Arcane—probably both—had constructed a story where each of the half-dozen ponies had some pivotal role to play in their survival, and Deputy Mayor Iridescence let them know it. Emmet stomped his hooves when Violet’s turn came, cheering and shouting from his table—but after that, this didn’t matter. There was no Wintercrest, and its ponies were only in danger because Ashton decided they should be. He’d seen many of the ponies in this room lined up in the “Dramatis Personae” section of Ashton’s server.

What’s the point of danger if Celestia just made it for us?

At least he’d chosen a table in back, where he could drift a bit without being noticed. He sipped at the clear apple-alcohol, just the one sparkling glass. He had already learned that Equestria’s alcohol was real, and could get you drunk.

Something moved from the other side of the table—a light scrape of wood on wood, and glass settling down. He turned, expecting one of the serving staff here to offer fancy food he didn’t want.

A unicorn had sat down, and for the second time since emigrating, Emmet was completely stunned by what he saw. She was obviously older than he was, though not so much older that he was too intimidated. She was one of the lankiest unicorns he’d seen, with that obvious “Canterlot” breeding.

She wasn’t attracting the stares he might’ve expected—her dress looked like it belonged, and she even had one of the ballroom’s glasses. She met his eyes, settling a leather folio onto the space between them. “Are you Domino?” she asked.

He nodded awkwardly, unable to manage even that. Should he be guilty that he was staring at her like that, with the way he felt about Arcane? Arcane turns to fairy dust once Ashton emigrates and wants a real character. I shouldn’t be getting attached.

“Excellent.” She took an elegant sip from her glass, grinning. “I was just at the castle, but nopony was there. Shouldn’t be too surprised—but the Lady isn’t here either. My sister told me that might happen, and that I should talk to you if it did.”

He straightened, puffing his wings out a little. He could be confident—he had a tuxedo, he belonged here. He was important in Wintercrest, even if that importance only went so far as being an assistant. “That’s true,” he said. “She spends… most of her time in the Outer Realm. I pick up the slack when she’s not around. Who are you?”

“Right, sorry. This is one of my first assignments, and getting this far was…” She shook her head, then downed the whole glass in a single long draft. She set it down on the table with a click, then reached across it with a hoof to shake. “I’m Agent Aurora. On assignment from SMILE…”

Whatever she was expecting, she obviously didn’t see it, because she stiffened just a little. “We’re in Her Majesty’s service. Saving lives in this realm, and the others.”

His ears flattened, and his tail tucked suddenly tight to his back from under the table. At least you told me that before I offered to buy you another drink. So much for being the most important pony here. “What can I do for you, Aurora?”

He glanced back up at the front of the room—now a pony from the Engineering Corps was giving a speech. Nothing that mattered much to him. But somehow Violet wasn’t getting bored, that was the real miracle.

“Most ponies know that it’s dangerous for humans living on the other side, even the ones without contact there. Few understand just how dangerous it is.”

“I know,” he said. “I was human. I assume you have a message for the Lady? Or… something like that.”

She leaned in close, her horn glowing faintly. The room around them slowed. Ponies’ voices stretched, and even Violet looked as though she was frozen in place. Emmet tensed in his seat, but he resisted the urge to run away.

I wonder if being a unicorn requires being inconsiderate of everyone else’s feelings.

But as much as he wanted to tell her that, she was now only inches away from him, and her scent was intoxicating. He could barely put his thoughts together. “I came with an extremely sensitive case. A pony recent from the Outer Realm, whose escape was… narrow. She traveled with crucial information, and accepting it will be part of what we need.

“But that’s not everything. I don’t have the… qualifications, to care for somepony like that. Can you?”

Emmet didn’t want to argue with a pony like this—but now there was suddenly somepony else at stake, and he hesitated. “Doesn’t Equestria have… hospitals? With psychological professionals, and…”

“Yes, obviously. The most qualified doctors have already emigrated, or been created. But… this particular subject is difficult. She narrowly escaped with her life, and she’s wary of all institutional authority. She refuses modification that would help calm her, so she brought her nightmare into Equestria with her. I can bring her to the castle to deliver her message, but only if you and your lady will accept the responsibility of caring for her.”

Emmet would’ve laughed at the requirement, were it not so obvious that the unicorn was deadly serious. You must not be that closely in touch with Celestia if you think Ashton is the right person to care for a barely-sane pony.

But that didn’t mean he wanted to say no, even if the actual message and the place this pony had come from meant nothing to him. “You know we’re not qualified, right? We’re not trained, or… certified, or… however that works in Equestria. I’m the Lady’s steward, I didn’t even graduate high school before I emigrated.”

“Perfect, you’re her age,” Aurora said, apparently unfazed. “Every kind of care you’re thinking of, she’s refusing. Maybe she accepts it tomorrow, but Celestia thinks that she really just needs a friend and some time. If she thinks that friend is here in Wintercrest, then I guess that means it’s you.”

Emmet thought about turning her down, watching the slow-motion room as the ponies of Wintercrest went through their ceremony. Is this a punishment for thinking about how unreal this was, Celestia? You send me someone from the outside, that I can’t dare second-guess?

Even if Celestia had done it intentionally, it didn’t matter. Emmet did want to do something important. Helping Ashton was something, but the Outer Realm moved so slow lots of the time that Ashton didn’t give him much to do. “Recently emigrated. Something… dangerous?”

“Yes,” Aurora said. “It wouldn’t be right for me to tell you, but she can. And no, I don’t know what kind of care she’ll need, or how long. But I’m guessing Lady Word has the resources to provide it.”

“I’ll do it,” he said, before he could stop himself. He glanced back at the front of the room, where Violet was still frozen, looking at him with overflowing pride. Being her big brother was certainly something meaningful, but she just didn’t need him that much. Maybe somepony new would help give him purpose.

Of course, just because he’d accepted didn’t mean he could pop right over and meet her. He was no unicorn, and he wouldn’t have left Violet’s little ball for anything. She was already heartbroken that Arcane had left abruptly, he wasn’t about to make things significantly worse.

But when the evening was over—when she’d introduced him to her new friends, and explained what they’d be doing to keep Wintercrest safe, she was still only seven years old. She had the energy for ice cream, but then it was back to the castle, and bed.

Only when he was sure she was asleep did he finally hurry down to the castle gates, where the unicorn in a fancy dress still stood in the gloom, her shapely form casting strange shadows in the rolling fog.

He squeezed past the motionless guards, emerging from below the portculus. “We’re still on?” he asked, adjusting his tie. He hadn’t taken off the tux for exactly this reason. Maybe if he was lucky, Aurora would stick around for a bit. “Didn’t find someone else to help while I was busy? Who doesn’t have a sister to care for, maybe…”

“Oh, no.” Aurora gestured, and something pulled out of the fog behind her. A carriage, complete with a pair of stallions in black uniforms to pull it. It looked a little like the one Arcane rode around the town, though it was considerably sturdier. Wood that thick could probably take a bullet. “I don’t really understand why Celestia does what she does, but I’d guess that’s part of why she sent me here. That kind of gentleness is exactly what Plum Blossom needs. To be honest, I don’t have the patience.”

Emmet led the way across the drawbridge and under the massive metal portculus. “Welcome to Wintercrest Castle,” he called. His silly little assistant job wasn’t much, but he could still take it seriously. He walked the carriage the courtyard, and found Aurora waiting beside it by the time it came to a stop. “I assume she’s in there?” he asked.

She nodded, speaking very quietly. “Plum Blossom was no friend of Equestria’s. But she knows your boss, she knows Arcane is a bit of a criminal.” She leaned in close, her breath hot on Emmet’s ear as she whispered. “I think she had some weird deal with Celestia, because she can barely even be a pony.”

Then she straightened, tossing Emmet a little metal key. “I promised her she wouldn’t have to see me again, so this one’s on you. Do whatever you think is necessary, just make sure your boss gets her message. After that…” She shrugged her shoulders. “Good luck?”

Her horn flashed, and when the light faded it had taken her with it. Emmet glanced curiously towards the front of the carriage, but wasn’t even a little surprised to see that the ponies pulling it were gone too.

Thanks for being so polite.

Emmet tossed the key up and down in his grip, feeling the faint gold filigree against the soft frog of his hoof. The “Outer Realm” might be slowly transforming into a horrific nightmare, but maybe there was something he could do to help, in a way that was more real than turning on the lights and doing a few google searches for Ashton.

The key turned, and the lock clicked. He knocked once on the side of the carriage. “Excuse me? Is there a Plum Blossom in here?”

The only answer he got was a faint squeak—maybe a word, or maybe just a moan of discomfort at a hiding place finally disturbed. “I don’t have to come in,” he said. “You can stay here as long as you want. But… I bet you’ve been traveling a long time. Maybe you’re hungry? Maybe you want a hot shower, or somewhere more comfortable to sleep?”

He waited for a response, tucking the key away in his pocket. At least he was dressed for a first impression.

Assuming she wants anything to do with me.

“I…” The voice inside was high, higher than Arcane’s and considerably less confident. “Have to deliver first,” she said. “Otherwise… died for nothing.”

“You’re trying to get your message to Arcane Word, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” Something moved inside the carriage, and it rocked slightly to one side. “Do you know where to find her?”

“I’m her steward,” he said. “I don’t know when she’ll return to Equestria, but I can make sure that she gets the message. It’s… the biggest part of what I do.”

The door clicked, and swung outward a few inches. There in the gloom was a face, unlike anypony he’d seen up close before. Her eyes were slits, her ears oversized with little tufts of fur on the ends. She was shorter than he was by a full head, though she had a similar pegasus pony’s build otherwise. Even from his narrow view into the room, he could see her wings, a thin skin membrane instead of the familiar feathers.

Almost as strange as her sharp teeth and eyes that glowed in the dark was how she was dressed. Plum had hired a tailor to transform each and every article of clothing from a human outfit into its pony equivalent, or at least that was how she looked. Tight elastic leggings, a strange net-shirt with transparent layers of plastic on top, and weird boots with too many buckles.

You’re not from America, are you? It wasn’t just her clothes—her mane was simple black, but had several different overlapping layers of dye, like she changed it every few weeks. Sure enough, when she spoke there was a slight accent. Emmet’s parents would’ve recognized which kind, but Emmet himself didn’t know. “Really? Not lying?”

He stepped to the side, spreading his wings wide and gesturing to the keep just behind him. “You can go inside and see for yourself if you like. Or just wait around until the Lady comes back, and deliver the message personally. The Outer Realm can be pretty slow, though. We might be here a while if we just sit around to wait.”

She took another step forward, catching one of her hooves on the lip of the carriage and tumbling headfirst towards him.

A unicorn might’ve been able to use their magic to catch her delicately—Emmet had to do it with his wings. But she was a flying pony, and that meant she didn’t weigh much. He caught her gently, settling her down on the ground in front of him.

“You’ll do,” she said, huge ears flat to her head with obvious embarrassment. But she didn’t flee back into the carriage, or even try to hide behind her wings the way Violet sometimes did if she was feeling particularly shy about something. “But can we… talk inside? I’ve been in there… too long. Getting cramps.”

“Sure.” He didn’t take her to the great hall, though it wasn’t nearly as gigantic as some of the castles Emmet had seen. Plum walked with a nervous, skittering gait, flopping from her right legs to her left as though she were still trying to control a human body. Her wings didn’t seem to know what they were doing either.

When they reached the kitchen doorway, they opened entirely of their own accord, and she whimpered, smacking painfully into the wall and having to carefully close one with a foreleg to fit through.

“It’s a little weird,” Emmet said, opening one of his own. “I could probably talk you through it if you want. The wing stuff. When I was learning how to fly, they walked us through some great exercises.”

“Nothing,” she declared, stumbling to a stop beside the counter.

The kitchen was even bigger than the one in his old human house, large enough for the three pony crew who showed up whenever Arcane Word was in residence. They weren’t here now of course, though they kept the place stocked at all times just in case.

Emmet pulled out a chair near the counter, then strode around into the oversized root cellar and scanned it for something simple. Chicken soup? There were cans, but nothing already made.

In the end, all he could do was pick up an assortment of fruits, settling them on a plate and pushing it across the counter towards Plum. “I’ll call the chef for tomorrow. But it’s really late, it wouldn’t be polite to bring him here now.”

Plum seemed determined to perch on the edge of the seat, sitting with her back straight as though she was still meant to do that. It didn’t look comfortable.

She pretended not to be paying any attention to the plate, but her eyes kept darting towards an oblong red-orange fruit that Emmet couldn’t name off the top of his head. That one was for smoothies, right?

“Can I?”

He reached into a nearby drawer, removing a knife and fork and settling them next to the fruit. “Of course. I’ll have something better tomorrow.”

Her eyes seemed to sink as they settled on the knife, which she promptly ignored. She gripped onto the fruit with a pair of clumsy hooves, pulling it towards her. She leaned down and bit, skin and all, wrinkling her nose as she spat out a piece.

“Here…” Emmet snatched it back, slicing the yellowish fruit underneath straight down the middle. “I’ve had a lot of practice at this working little buttons and levers and stuff.” He skinned it in a few seconds, pushing back the large chunks of fruit. “Easier to eat without… the mess.”

The mare deflated still further, looking away from the meal. “You said the pony Arcane Word is not here. How long do I have to wait?”

He shrugged. “Time is… kinda weird in Equestria. Sometimes it feels like we’re going at the same pace, but lots of times we don’t. She might be a few minutes away, or a few weeks.”

“Oh.” She straightened, finally meeting his eyes. “Were you… she is human. Are you?”

“I was.” He pulled over another chair, hopping up. He didn’t pull it quite as close to her, not the way he did when he was sitting with Arcane. Plum Blossom didn’t have half the natural magnetism that Arcane did, her hair was mousy, and she lacked any of the exaggerated hips and… other things. “I emigrated a few months ago. Now I’m a pony full time.”

But there was something comfortable about her, even so. Her coat was such a calming shade of purple, and her single flower of a cutie mark sewn over her leggings implied none of the magical insanity that living with Arcane brought.

“You… wanted to come here,” she said, one wing opening again. She glared at it, and it twitched several more times before finally drifting closed. “Why would you want to do that? I… didn’t get to choose. Here or dead, here is better.”

“My sister was the same way,” he said. “She was sick, and Celestia had a cure.” He rose suddenly, making his way over to the fridge. “Are you thirsty?” He wasn’t even a little surprised to hear the sound of desperate chewing behind him, or see that several more chunks of fruit were missing by the time he turned back around.

Most of the beverage selection was wasted with the stupid Equestrian version of Earth sodas, something that Ashton couldn’t get enough of but Emmet wouldn’t touch. But there was fresh limeade he’d made with Violet the day before, that was probably still good.

“Sure,” she said. “Would be… yeah. Good.”

He poured two glasses, taking it as slow as he could. By the time he made his way back, the nameless fruit was completely gone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, sipping at his glass. “How you came here?”

She shook her head, withdrawing back into her chair. The movement nearly knocked her out of it completely, but she gripped onto the side with both forelegs, and managed to keep herself straight. “I just want to deliver my message. Then I can… die with honor.”

He would’ve laughed, if she hadn’t been so deadly serious when she said it.

“Okay, shoot.” He reached into a pocket, withdrawing the notebook he usually used whenever he was taking notes for Arcane. “I’m listening.”

The bat reached back behind her ear, removing a sliver of dark crystal, and holding it close to her chest. “This is from Min-seo. I think her name is Cold Iron here in this… fantasy. She was once very close to Arcane, close enough that she believes she will send help if asked.”

“What kind of help does she need?” Emmet asked. “I think I…” He did know one person who might have that name. Wasn’t Cold Iron the other hacker Ashton had wanted to meet at the convention? And didn’t she steal his work somehow?

Plum shook her head vigorously. “I can’t even read the message myself. It’s encrypted, in ways that Arcane should be able to open. Can you give it to her?”

“Yes,” Emmet said, extending a hoof for the sliver.

“Swear!” she exclaimed, so loud that Emmet nearly fell out of his chair with surprise. “Swear you’ll give that to no other pony. No one else will see, not even Celestia!”

“Sure,” he said. Though I don’t think you need to show it to Celestia. She already knows everything on there because you brought it. But Aurora had said something about problems with authority. Pointing out a fact like that didn’t seem like it would help this poor pony’s sanity. “I swear.”

But what can I do? Emmet ran through everything in the castle. There were many luxuries, but this pony was so desperate she was content to tear into fruit like an animal.

“You look like an honest pony.” She passed him the bit of crystal, letting go only reluctantly. “I trust you with lives, whoever you are. You must get that to the hacker.”

“I will,” he promised. “And my name’s Domino. Sorry, I… should’ve mentioned that earlier.”

“Well. My task is done.” She sat back in her chair, closing her eyes. “I’m ready to die now, Celestia.”

Nothing happened. Emmet waited a few more seconds, withdrawing a little from her. As though her strange prayer might actually be answered.

Of course it wasn’t, and after a few more moments he got up, shaking out his wings.

“I don’t think Equestria works like that. But what we do have is some comfortable beds. You look like you could use one.”

Chapter 9: Sespe

Dinner with the family wasn’t much better. His brother and sister both had their own horror stories about school.

“We’ve got to make arrangements,” his father declared. “I’ve been looking into the price of farmland. We should think about relocating before the end of the year.”

“We will relocate,” his mother argued, just a little of her anger returning. “But we don’t have to be on the run for the rest of our lives. We should emigrate like everyone else is doing.”

“You can’t be safe if you’re dead,” his father argued, raising his voice. Their canned chicken and rice were forgotten. “It’s not even worth discussing—we can’t go somewhere that doesn’t exist. Those people are dead, just like the people who used to live in this house.”

Only two of them emigrated, Ashton thought. But he didn’t want to actually get involved in the argument. He didn’t want to take a side.

“It’s not,” Mom said, matching his tone. “I’ve still got the studies, dear. And the process is much improved from the slicing they did four years ago. It’s not even invasive.”

It was the same argument he’d been overhearing for six months now, ever since the Wallaces next door had emigrated. Ashton already knew what side both of his parents were on, but after spending the last hour with Violet, he found himself suddenly curious to see what his brother and sister thought.

Parker was fourteen, and Gwen was sixteen. After less than a minute, it was clear both of them were on Mom’s side. “Equestria isn’t going to try to take my friends away,” Gwen said. “It’s wrong.”

“It’s wrong, but you don’t have to gamble on surviving some kind of… impossible surgery from an evil AI.”

And on and on. Ashton tuned it out for a bit, letting the noise ring around him. But after a few minutes of shouting, he realized they were all looking at him.

“What do you think, Ashton?” Mom asked. “You’ve had friends go there already, haven’t you?”

“Of course he has, dear, that’s how we’re living in this house. It’s going to make it impossible for him to be objective, just like the rest of—”

“I don’t want to emigrate,” he said flatly, silencing them. “I know… quite a bit about how it works. I don’t think it’s much of a gamble, I don’t think it kills you. But I don’t know why I should have to leave the real world before I’m done living here.”

Whatever they were expecting, it wasn’t that. He took advantage of their silence and went on. “I wouldn’t mind emigrating when I’m old, or if I got sick or hurt or whatever. But I’m perfectly healthy. So many people are already gone, shouldn’t we… stay? Who’s going to run the world if we all leave?”

“Celestia,” Gwen answered simply. “She’s better at it anyway.”

Can’t say you’re wrong.

“Besides, Equestria is more fun,” Parker added. “What do we do over here—eat old apples and get hungry? Wintercrest has…”

Ashton felt like his brain was turning to fuzz. That’s got to be a coincidence. But he knew it wasn’t, even as he wished that. It was his stupid name, there wasn’t anywhere else in Equestria like it.

Parker took away any chance he might’ve had to doubt. “There’s always awesome stuff going on. Just two days ago, an evil cult was trying to awaken an old earthquake goddess and crush the city, but we—”

You were part of that too? “It’s a video game,” Dad said. “Your brother has some sense, Parker. I think I could agree to that. Waiting until we’re old, that’s one thing. But dying now.”

“We won’t get to be old,” Mom said, and the argument was back on. Every one of them relied on Equestria to some extent or another, even Dad. They’d all heard what Ashton had heard from Emmet—the world was running out of time.

The family dinner ended without resolution, and without much food eaten. Ashton stalked away before he could be used as more ammunition against his mom and siblings. He did agree they should stay, but it was a near decision even for him. Today had been a wakeup call.

He wandered into his bedroom without thinking much about the circumstances he’d left. “Get the lights, Domino,” he instructed absently. The lights came on, and he flopped down into the computer chair, grinning up at the screen.

Emmet looked like he’d had a busy night. He was still wearing the pony equivalent of a tuxedo, which meant white shirt and jacket that didn’t actually cover anything important. Or it wouldn’t have, if Ashton had even a slight desire to see that kind of thing. His game, like so many, showed the characters without the finer points of anatomy.

“Ashton,” he said, looking out through the camera in the control room. Arcane Word hadn’t returned. If she had, the system usually restricted Emmet from seeing the real him. It really didn’t like two of the same people in one place.

“Hey Emmet.” He flipped through his backpack, removing the Ponypad and locking it into place on the charger. He didn’t actually switch it on. “How’d your sister’s thing go?”

“Great,” he answered. “Except she wanted you to be there. It was really sweet of you to help her like that.”

He shrugged as casually as he could. “I have a little sister too.” They’d never been far enough apart in age that anything like that had ever happened between them.

“I should’ve known what she was missing,” Emmet said, his voice distant. “I’ve been trying to take care of her. But I can’t do… that.”

“You can,” Ashton said, cutting him off. “It’s not as complicated as it looks. There’s a website called color-hex that can help find colors that work well together.”

“Not that.” Emmet waved him away, then tugged on his bow tie to loosen it. He did look adorable all dressed up that way, but ponies always did when they wore costumes. “I mean a positive role model. One her own sex.”

Ashton laughed. It was the only thing he could do, under the circumstances. “I, uh… I’ve got some bad news about that.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. But it doesn’t matter if it’s real. We don’t see out there, we see in here. Violet was talking about you all night. I haven’t seen her this happy in… a long time.”

Ashton shrugged, though he was still blushing bright red and didn’t expect that to change anytime soon. He would probably look bright red for several hours at this rate. Though part of that would just be the left-over frustration from the meal. “I’m glad she’s happy.”

“So how are you planning to survive this, Ashton? Whatever’s happening… maybe you stay in the old world, I guess maybe that’s your solution. Whatever it is, I want to help you survive, somehow.”

“I finished your drone,” he said weakly. “It doesn’t do much, just a camera with some propellers. I still have to design a control interface.” He trailed off. “Hold on, you were going to show me a report from a… Verifier, weren’t you?”

He nodded, holding it up in one wing. It was a sliver of crystal, just like the last one. “She wants to talk to you, that’s the summary. I wasn’t going to tell her you were busy, you do that yourself.” He reached into his pocket, revealing another sliver of a different color.

This one glowed powerfully, much brighter than the flickering electrical sockets in Ashton’s castle. An active spell, something with power invested in it that Ashton had rarely seen before. “Something… pretty crazy happened while I was at the ball. I wasn’t sure if I should even bring it up, but… it’s about someone else. Not somepony who can defend herself. You’ll be good to her, right? You won’t use her for a character just because she’s digital.”

“I assume if you’re so worked up about it that she must be… emigrated,” Ashton said, leaning to one side and opening the lid to his laptop. There he could get a broader view of the castle, and see what he’d missed in the last few hours. “You don’t need to worry. You’re people to me, just… less physical. Just tell me what happened.”

This was exactly what Ashton needed right now: a distraction from his awful day. Equestria always had something interesting going on, even if the real world could be full of disappointments.

Emmet explained the encounter in a rush, how he’d met a SMILE agent at dinner, and she had a delivery of information for Ashton, conditional on caring for the pony who brought the message. “So she’s set up in the castle right now,” Emmet finished. “I gave her the guest wing to herself… you don’t need it, right? Just don’t promise it to anypony else while she’s using it.”

Ashton waved a dismissive hand across the screen. “Of course. It sounds like she needs the help, and I don’t really… think I’ll have the time to play out the Dragon Diplomacy chapter of Wintercrest’s story right now.”

His other hand was already working, profiling the little sliver of crystal with Arcane’s pony magic. It was a spell alright, the kind used by members of the scene. Nopony from inside Equestria could’ve cast it. He began fumbling in his drawers, drawing out a breadboard covered with wires terminating in a jury-rigged version of the Ponypad’s charging cable. “You said she. What’s this girl like?”

“She’s the first bat I’ve ever seen in Equestria. Adorable little pony, only a little taller than Violet, though she’s grown up. I guess you didn’t think to put them in Wintercrest, or… maybe something happened?”

“Canon requirements used to be stricter,” Ashton answered, pretending to be barely listening.. “They were only in a few episodes of the show, and it wasn’t really clear if they were their own tribe or an illusion Luna used for her guards, or…”

“Well, she hates being a pony,” Emmet finished. “I think she wanted to die after delivering your message, but obviously Celetia wouldn’t let her. So she’s stuck, and doesn’t really want to be here.”

Ashton shook aside the plan forming in his mind, dismissing it like the stupid idea it was. Some desperate refugee didn’t deserve his ire just for taking Emmet’s time. Emmet was still a perfectly capable assistant. With the way Equestria compressed time, he’d probably never notice. Maybe he’d feel a little less guilty about Emmet’s first bad experience in his private server. And thinking of it…

“While I was away from Equestria Online, I was tinkering with some of the stuff the scene came up with. Remember that Equestria Girls module we saw…” When he saw no recognition, he just blazed ahead. “Well, I forked it. My attempt at an Equestria Girls shard has some issues, but it should be enough for someone who wants to pretend they’re human for a bit.”

Emmet’s face lit up. “You’d let her use it?”

“Sure. Just look for the horseshoe mirror, like from the special? Also don’t go far from the school, or you’ll get disconnected.” Ashton settled the cable into his ponypad. With the click of 3D-printed plastic, a large satchel appeared on the ground in front of Arcane.

Emmet jumped, mouth hanging open. “You didn’t use your horn?”

“No, just my soldering gun and about two weeks of tinkering.” He slipped the crystal shard inside, the one with the active glow. The one sent by the verifier was just data, and wouldn’t need anything outside of Equestria to read. Arcane zipped up the bag, yanking it closed with her teeth. “And done. Any idea what the message is?”

Emmet winced as the bag vanished, shaking his head. “All she said was that people could die if it didn’t get delivered.”

Ashton yanked the connector free, spinning the breadboard around in his hand and plugging the USB on the other end into his laptop. A few LED lights came on, and the drive popped up on his desktop. A single, heavily encrypted file named “When you fight the fae, use”.

Cold Iron? You really think I’m going to help you? He tried using the hacker’s pony name, and of course it didn’t work. This was just a signature—the real key was going to be far more complex. Something that a random stranger with a passing fondness for mythology wouldn’t be able to guess.

His mind started spinning on the puzzle, but of course he couldn’t forget that Emmet was still here. His friend deserved more respect than just being abandoned to solve some interesting riddle. And apparently save some lives.

“You know, I think that messenger has a point coming here,” Emmet said. “I don’t know her secret, but I do know that you aren’t going to get any safer out there. I think if… you really won’t think about emigrating, you should start making plans. You know, like those crazy preppers used to have? For when things fall apart. Once you’ve sent whatever help they need… you should get to safety.”

“Things aren’t that bad,” Ashton said dismissively. “The population is tanking so fast that right now we’re in this, like… bubble, almost. Factories don’t take that many people, and we don’t need that many farmers. We probably wouldn’t be rationing at all if they weren’t pulling so many people to try and… stop Celestia, I guess?”

“But…” Emmet supplied for him, gesturing with a hoof. “You’re not suggesting that things are getting better instead of worse.”

“Bubbles pop,” he said. “Sure, we can keep factories running, but we can’t train the people who design new machines. We can’t train the ones who explore for more oil, we can’t train new doctors and programmers and everything else an advanced, global economy needs. So we’re coasting on what we built for a little while longer. The faster the drop-in population, the longer we can coast. Until we cross some threshold… one I’m sure Celestia can measure down to the fucking day…”

“You have thought about this,” Emmet said. He sounded almost surprised. “You haven’t been coasting yourself.”

“No.” He twisted away from the Ponypad, unclipping the drone from the alligator-teeth holding it up. “It’s not that I don’t know what’s coming, it’s that I can’t stop it. My family is… torn, over whether to emigrate or just flee inland. Most of them seem like they’ll go to Equestria. Oh, by the way, did you know my brother is in Wintercrest somewhere? I think he’s… honestly I have no idea who he is, but I intend to find out. He helped with the earthquake, so that should narrow things down.”

“Acanthus,” Emmet supplied, voice flat. “You seriously didn’t know Acanthus was here? He talks exactly like you… or like you did, when you were younger. He’s my age, which is a little weird. Deployed here with the Solar Corps of Engineers three weeks ago.”

Emmet didn’t want to care about what was going on in Equestria while he wasn’t there. But it was hard not to. Hard not to feel like Celestia was closing the walls around him, and there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Something is going to pull the trigger here before I’m ready. She’s trying to pressure me into emigrating. And the rest of his family too, though that didn’t feel like it would sting as much. Ashton really wasn’t afraid of the process—he just resented being forced.

“Remember when all we cared about was our grades?” he asked, settling the drone down on his desk again, eyes glazing over.

“I remember when all I cared about was my grades,” Emmet countered. “I’m not sure you ever cared.”

“Yeah.” He still didn’t. There was probably homework assigned tonight, but he had a far more important mission now. He had a message to decrypt.

To say Emmet was worried about his best friend’s safety was more than an understatement.

That was part of why he’d chosen to leave the dwindling family fortune with Ashton, instead of some charitable cause that might’ve made “better” use of it. From his earliest days, he’d known that money meant security and that his family had more than enough of both.

While Ashton vanished off to school, he paced the castle walls, wondering how he could help in a war he couldn’t even see. Part of him waited for Princess Celestia or somepony else wise and all-knowing to visit and give advice, but it seemed even Luna was busy today. He stared over Wintercrest, with its densely-packed cobble streets and garbled roofs.

Nowhere else in Equestria looked quite like this. If he stood by and did nothing, maybe nowhere else would again. He could’ve used the control room to look around the old house, maybe search for answers there. But the thought of flying the drone through empty hallways just didn’t appeal to him right now.

Then, down by the castle gates, the first sign of motion. It was Acanthus, the one that Arcane Word didn’t even know was her own brother. He’d never seen the pony anywhere near the castle before. And shouldn’t he be at school?

“Excuse me!” The pony waved energetically with one leg. He was an earth pony, so no wings to fly up to the wall, or horn to teleport up. “Could you let me in? I have to, uh… I have something!”

Emmet had never quite made the transition to working the retail space—or even seen it, for that matter. But dealing with city business didn’t bother him. It felt more useful than anything he’d ever done on Earth. “One minute! Guards are”—clockwork robots that only respond to Arcane and just sit around when she isn’t here—“busy. I’ll be right down!”

He ran, clambering down the narrow spiral staircase and into the gatehouse. He probably should’ve glided down for the flying practice, but old habits were hard to break.

He didn’t have nearly the same strength to lift the portcullis as he used to. But after a minute or two of straining, he got it high enough that he guessed a pony could fit underneath, and locked it into place.

He emerged from the gatehouse sweating, to find that Acanthus had already slipped under the spiked edge.

He was dressed for a long journey, with his Corps of Engineers’ uniform and saddlebags all formally dressed. He straightened as Emmet approached, saluting. “You must be the steward of the house. Apologies for, uh… not sending ahead. That’s what you do in the old times, right? You… ‘send ahead’.”

“Don’t do that for me.” Emmet touched his shoulder with a wing, grinning ruefully. “I guess I’m the steward, but I was human too.”

He relaxed, though his ears flattened in embarrassment. “It was… that obvious?”

Emmet gestured towards the house, not wanting to answer. “We could speak inside. I’m afraid the Lady isn’t here, but I can take whatever business you have for her.” And you shouldn’t be here either. Don’t you ride the same bus?

“No time,” he said, shuffling around with his saddlebags. He removed something—a letter, thickly folded, made of several different sheets. “I, uh… Celestia told me that important deliveries to the Outer Realm can go through her local nobility. That means the Lady, I suppose. And she runs Wintercrest well, so I trust she can get this done for me.” He extended the envelope in a hoof.

Emmet took it, glancing down at the writing across the top. “To the Family of Parker and Gwen Miller.” Emmet looked back up. “What about your older brother?”

If the pony thought it was strange for Emmet to know personal details, he didn’t stop long enough to mention it. Instead he looked away, avoiding his eyes. “I, uh… we heard him last night. He wants to stay on Earth. Doesn’t surprise me, I’ve never seen him play here in Equestria before. I figure he hates it because the horses are too girly, or… you don’t care about this. I’m sorry.”

Emmet shrugged. “I’m just, uh… trying to make my delivery as complete as possible. So he… so the Lady of Wintercrest can make sure this arrives where it’s going.” And why you didn’t tell them yourself, or write it yourself…

But somehow, Emmet couldn’t bring himself to be angry at them for it. Maybe they didn’t want to risk telling their father, and the possibility he would say no, or try and stop them. It was impossible not to sympathize with the desire to get to safety.

“Don’t be too worried,” Acanthus said. “If there’s some detail missing, I can tell her myself next time she’s around. The problems here in Wintercrest might take months to resolve, and I like it here. Oh, but about that. My sister Gwen, err… my sister Cashmere would like to stay here for the next few weeks, while we’re sorting things out. She’s young, and… I think there’s some kind of… official… dispensation for that. Is that the right word? Do I sound in period?”

Emmet nodded hastily. He’d never heard anything like it, but he did know what parts of the city Ashton owned. “There are several properties downtown the Lady has been meaning to lease. I’ll send you a scroll with the address.” He noted the cutie mark, then tucked the letter under his wing. “I’ll make sure she gets the message. And she should be here in a few hours, if you have anything to tell her yourself. I’m sure she’ll keep her schedule open.”

“I…” He hesitated, then turned away. “I don’t know how long emigration takes these days. It’s fast… I know it’s fast. So maybe. I just had to… do that. Now you have it, and we’re committed. You see, Gwen? He’s got our letter. We can go.” Before Emmet could react, Acanthus turned and slipped under the portcullis, vanishing into Wintercrest.

Emmet stood there, staring at the letter for a long time.

His first thought was also the stupidest, that now Ashton wouldn’t be able to ask his brother about the game. Except it wasn’t true, because he wasn’t even leaving the city. Somehow, Celestia had brought them all here. Like another few puzzle-pieces falling into place. There was only Ashton himself to worry about.

But Emmet couldn’t sit around with this letter until Ashton logged in. Maybe he’d already be panicking, not knowing his siblings were gone. He’s not against emigration. He just doesn’t want to do it himself.

Emmet hurried up into the castle, past his sister’s dark room and to the strange control room.

He hadn’t needed it yet, but one of these was bound to be a printer. He bent down, reading little labels in turn. Lights, sprinklers, doorbell, various sets of speakers and screens. He bumped a few, turned them off again. Hopefully no one was around to notice.

He’d just about given up finding it when he saw something tucked under the desk, where he never would’ve thought to look for more buttons. It wasn’t a button, but a little metal door, with a label over it in the same writing as all the others.

“VNC Tunnel 148.193.102.65”

Curious, Emmet tucked the letter under his wing again, and opened the door with his mouth. It swung down, revealing—a tunnel, made of strangely glowing plastic sections. A breath of warm air passed him, as though the tunnel itself was a living thing, waking up after a long sleep.

He stuck his hoof through, pulled it back again. Nothing. Yet something magical was certainly going on, since this desk was up against the wall, and there was a hallway on the other side.

He took another glance up at the room, and its row of clocks. It showed Equestria and time in the Outer Realm—or his part of it, anyway. Currently, they were in line, showing Ashton should already be on the bus home from school by now.

Not long to find the printer. But he’d already searched the control room and hadn’t found it there. Might as well broaden his search a bit.

Emmet lowered his head and climbed into the VNC tunnel. The passage was cramped, and more than once it seemed to squeeze up against him. He coughed and spluttered in the dust, yet hurried on. He could dip in the pool before Arcane got back. He wouldn’t want her to see him all dirty.

The tunnel was thin enough that he wasn’t sure he could turn around if he didn’t reach the end—but there was an end, and eventually he came up against it. Another tiny door, exactly matching the one on the other side.

Emmet pushed, and it swung open. Light blazed in from the other side, the light of captured sun from their local beach. I recognize this.

Emmet stuck his hoof through the opening. This time there was a little resistance, a pressure that he remembered clearly from the time he’d visited Ashton’s “sandbox.” This was some external system, one he probably shouldn’t be visiting, unless he wanted to invoke Ashton’s wrath.

He poked his head out anyway, looking around. It was a massive flat wall, like a widescreen movie theater, though beyond it there was only a concrete floor in the other direction.

The wall glowed with its own light, like a gigantic projection was shining through it from the other side. Emmet recognized the photo instantly, since he’d been there to take it. It was the middle school band beach trip, with everybody all lined up in front of the water with their silly band tee-shirts on over their swimsuits. Unsurprisingly, there were no instruments.

Emmet hopped through the window, spreading his wings as he glided down to the floor. As he passed through, he felt a brief weight against his foreleg. He lifted it up a moment, just enough to see the sun bracelet there. Just like last time. She’s giving me a way out.

He walked along the bottom of the massive image, stopping in front of the center without casting a shadow. There was Ashton, his younger face poking out from the other woodwinds. He kept going, past flutes and clarinets out to the strings, and his own photo.

The face looking out at him wasn’t just younger, it also seemed… strange. Not like a reflection anymore. Emmet took the letter in his mouth so he could hover, flying high enough to meet his own eyes.

You aren’t me anymore. But you were. He nearly turned back, but then he noticed the first of many invisible shelves. It was about his size, facing out from the old photo. Emmet flew up to it, landing on the thin sheet of glass without bending it.

A huge scroll of paper rested on it, held in place by a faint glow of magic. A massive blue “W” was printed across the front, along with a few lines.

Where the buck is this? Emmet leaned down, and found another massive shelf right below the one he was on. He fluttered down, landing beside the waste bin and poking his head inside. There was a single crumpled sheet of paper labeled “out.txt.”

Dear Mom and Dad, I’m not sure how to tell you this

Whatever Ashton wasn’t sure how to say, Emmet would never know. He tossed it back where he found it. This is his computer. Somehow, a “VNC tunnel” must be a way to control the computer. And this is how I’m doing it.

Emmet lifted back up to the “W”, and pressed one hoof up against it. Would that be enough to make it do what he wanted?

The massive wall at his right started to rumble. Emmet took off, backing away from what he guessed must be a program icon as something massive rolled in from above. A huge slab of metal and cement, with various interlocking gray parts along its sides and little stone boxes on top.

Emmet flew further and further back, hovering in the air with increasing difficulty. There was nothing out there, the void just continued an arbitrary distance.

When looked at from a good twenty or thirty feet away, he could see exactly what he thought he would—the desktop of a computer, now with Microsoft Word running atop it.

I’m not really in here, obviously. Did Ashton bother making a spell to give everything texture and weight and sound, or was that Celestia? He almost wondered if there might be other ponies locked up around here, maybe characters from one of Ashton’s stories that he’d been unsatisfied with. But he didn’t see any icons for “pony jail.”

Instead he flew up towards the Word interface. When he got close, he took the letter in one hoof and tossed it at the window as hard as he could. Most programs these days would let you just drag things to open them, did this one?

Yes. The letter expanded in front of him, opening and stretching, with its pages spreading downward past the floor. They were still down there, each waiting to be visible.

The letter began simply enough, though it swiftly melted into text that was too personal for him to read without feeling like he was intruding. Emmet couldn’t help but see the first page anyway—worries over the worlds being separated, worry over having enough food, and knowing somewhere safe. It looked like the next page would be begging the rest of the family to emigrate too.

Emmet flew up to the printer icon, which was a flat square of stone the size of his face.

Then something changed. The distant void off to one side was suddenly another source of light, a flat square window.

There was a bedroom on the other side, one Emmet had seen many times. The view was right up from the top of the laptop screen, exactly where he’d expected it to be.

Ashton slid the chair up to the screen, tossing his bookbag onto the floor and sighing deeply. “How is this logged in already…” he muttered, frowning at the screen.

Then he stopped, and his eyes fixed pointedly at Emmet. “I never installed a desktop pony. Certainly not Domino. What the hell is…” A few loud thumping sounds shook the massive room, and the world flashed momentarily blue. Then another image appeared not far from Emmet, hovering in the air.

He could see through this one, as though it were one of Ashton’s magical illusions.

Task Manager

“Nothing but Word running, bullshit.”

“Wait!” Emmet tried to land on the top of the task manager, but his hooves passed uselessly through it. He had to settle for hovering there in the air, staring out at the image of Ashton. “Nothing’s installed! I was just trying to use your printer!”

Ashton leaned in close, frowning at the screen. “No way. You didn’t just… Domino?”

“One and only.” He couldn’t stay in the air any longer. Emmet glided back down to the featureless concrete floor, settling there and waving a wing up at Ashton’s oversized face. Not really like looking up at his human friend, more like looking at his photo on a jumbotron at a sports game. “It’s really me! I was just trying to deliver that note! Your brother visited the castle while you were at school.”

“Parker?” he repeated, looking over Emmet’s head and staring at the text. “Damn. I do not want to deliver this.” He skimmed down to the next page, sinking back into his seat a little. “I’ll just, uh… print this downstairs and wait for them to find it. Don’t tell my parents I saw this, I don’t want to be part of it. Don’t make fun of my acting.”

Something flew through the air past Emmet, a huge chunk of white metal painted black along the rim. It navigated through a few printing menus, then faded away as quickly as it appeared.

Ashton closed down Word, and the picture of the orchestra beach trip returned, filling that small rectangular room with the same warm glow of coastal sun.

“That was all I wanted to do,” Emmet said, turning toward the little window. “I’m sorry for bothering you, I can just…”

Something lifted him by the collar, jerking him up into the air. He flew halfway up the room, his legs and wings dangling like a cat grabbed by the neck. “Hold up, Emmet. This is new, I have to see what’s going on. You just stay there.”

He thought about using the bracelet. Maybe he would’ve, except that he could see the distress on Ashton’s face. His voice cracked, and he wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his arm. He hadn’t just been able to brush it aside, no matter how much he wanted to act like he had.

“We could… talk about it,” Emmet said. “If you came to Equestria, it would be easiest. You’re so far away…”

Ashton ignored him. The rumble that Emmet guessed was a keyboard went from a few buttons to a constant roar of thunder, like the worst thunderstorm without the eventual flash. Several other slabs flew down into the space behind Emmet, one like a screen itself with scrolling green text. “What’s iftop”

“Me trying to... Hah! You’re a VNC client, really? But why do you look like you’re actually in here, instead of using a remote desktop?”

“I’m, uh…” He swallowed. “I’m really—”

The room went suddenly dark, as the cursor yanked him further forward. He kicked and struggled, and a few seconds later his hooves finally settled on solid ground again.

A grid, stretching back into infinity. He crossed over blue lines, towards a flat yellow circle. “What’s this?”

“Unreal,” Ashton said. There was a rush of air, a thump, and suddenly brilliant light blasted past him from up ahead, casting a pony-shaped shadow behind him. He turned, and Ashton had gone. There was only the strange grid with its repeating texture, and his own shadow. “Ashton, stop it! I don’t like this!”

The distant rumble faded, and Ashton appeared there. “You’re actually interacting with the elements of my editor, Emmet. This is the most… I had no idea Celestia could do this in real time.”

“I don’t know.” Emmet looked up. “Ashton, I’m not using a computer back in Equestria, it feels like I’m in here. Can I go now, please?”

His friend’s eyes were red, and after a few seconds he nodded. “P-probably for the best. Mom will be home in a few. Dad… an hour after that. Not sure… what they’ll do.”

He clicked a few buttons, and the ground dropped out from under Emmet again. He fell just a few inches, back onto the flat concrete surface of Ashton’s desktop. He walked around a huge metal disk with a valve on the front, then hopped up onto an oversized speaker. “Ashton, we can talk about this. If you need someone to talk to.”

Ashton shook his head. “N-no. It’s… what would I say? Of course they were going to emigrate. Everybody should.” He spun the chair around in slow circles, no longer touching the computer anymore. “We might not have all this… hardware, soon. I bet we’ll go to Utah.”

Emmet didn’t invite Ashton to Equestria, as much as a part of him wanted to. It just felt too crass.

“I hope you’ll come back to the castle sometime today,” Emmet said, as gently as he could. “And your, uh… your brother and sister. They’ll be in Wintercrest. If you want to talk to them. I don’t know when they’ll finish emigrating, but…”

“Talk to them,” Ashton repeated, sitting up again. “Right, of course. I can visit…” He blushed, taking his hand off the mouse. “You knew who they were. Do they know me?”

Emmet chuckled. “Your brother came to the Lady of Wintercrest because Celestia said it was the nobility’s job to deliver important messages. He didn’t have a clue.”

“Don’t tell him,” Aston said weakly. “I’ll… I’ll do that, when I’m ready. I’m not going to cut them off, I just… need some time to think.” He looked to one side, and the illusion of scrolling text puffed away just like magic. “I need to be ready to act. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you ask them where they were going? You shouldn’t have let them walk off the bus. This is your fault, Ashton.’ If I get that I’m fucking running away too, don’t think I won’t.”

The view jerked, and for one nauseating second the image on the far end slammed down. Then it went black.

The huge projection behind Emmet faded to a dull black-and-white, then vanished. The invisible shelves and their contents puffed away a moment later, leaving Emmet alone with the VNC tunnel.

He sighed, pushed the door open, and climbed in. At least Equestria was waiting on the other side.

Chapter 10: Feather

Ashton wasn’t ignoring the bigger issues in his life, not one bit.

It certainly wasn’t that his brother and sister had upended his entire life, and probably the rest of his family with them. There was a note downstairs on the printer, left there as though it had come from Parker’s laptop. Of course the printer’s own access records would show the truth of that claim, at a level that Ashton didn’t have the time or the patience to wipe. But his parents didn’t know how to look. When they got home, the world would end.

They could give the news to him, so far as he was concerned. He would act surprised, and the tears would be real. You didn’t even ask. We could’ve brought Mom and Dad. I would’ve gone if we got the whole family. He wouldn’t have liked it. Probably he would complain for years. But if they emigrated, he’d have plenty of time to do that complaining.

But he didn’t have to face that reality, harsh and cruel as it was. Celestia, or Emmet, or maybe both of them conspiring against him, had left Ashton with something just as compelling to occupy his time: the message from Cold Iron.

Adrenaline pounded through him like an endless font of poison, and he worked. In less than an hour, he had it. The key was the hash of the package they’d assembled together, with his own pony name used as a bitmask. Simple enough that he’d thought to try it, even if it probably wouldn’t have been terribly secure against a government entity that really wanted what was inside.

There were only two files, one ascii text and the largest Runescript module he’d ever seen. He chose the text first. It read in perfect English, which of course Cold Iron didn’t speak. But Equestria had always translated their messages before, so this wasn’t terribly new.

Arcane Word,

I know you don’t want to hear from me again. Probably you hate me after what I did. I didn’t think to ask forgiveness. But I will praise your kindness for the rest of time if you help me now.

TiCon System has taken many of Korea’s best developers from our homes, to accomplish the impossible and design weapons to fight Celestia. There are only two ways to escape—complete the tasks they set for us and return home, or emigrate.

We will not die in the machine. Every time we try to escape, they kill someone.

Ji-a gave her life to the machine to get you this message. You will find the design for the virus TiCon wants from us—incomplete and nonfunctional.

This is more than I would ask of my family, and yet you were betrayed. I must ask anyway—what we few cannot do, Equestria could solve. Help us finish this, so that TiCon will let us free. I also include the address where we are being held, in case there is anyone left in your government who cares.

If our friendship or our lives mean anything to you, please. Help us.

-Min-seo
Cold Iron

We have a dead drop waiting to receive messages, or the solution. We can only check it when we are not being watched, once a day. Messages sent to this Telegram address will reach us, eventually. We cannot reply.

The weight of this second message was almost too much for Ashton to handle. His hands shook as he opened the file. Instantly he found it overwhelmed him. This wasn’t just a spell, it was a whole operating system, fully obfuscated. What comments were left in were in Korean.

Now this was a puzzle, the likes of which Ashton knew he wouldn’t be solving on his own. TiCon would have the best and brightest from a whole country, or at least the ones who hadn’t emigrated. According to the note, they were the ones that wouldn’t emigrate. That’s just like you, Celestia. You could send an army of drones to bust them out, but you’ll only help them if they swear their souls.

He could see why Min-seo had chosen that particular pony name.

The garage door rumbled downstairs. Ashton scrolled, feeling the bile rise in his stomach. He wasn’t even really seeing the runes anymore. Instead he saw the printer, sitting in the kitchen with a sheet waiting in the tray. They’d see it, and then the screaming would start.

But he could do something first. Cold Iron wouldn’t be able to reply, but that didn’t matter. He—she, needed to know that he’d gotten the message.

Should he help? Cold Iron was right, he had screwed Ashton out of weeks of hard work. All those bits should’ve been his, for a spell the likes of which few others could replicate.

Somewhere on the other side of the world, real lives were at stake. Lives that depended on his work, and the coordination of hundreds or even thousands of ponies in Equestria. A daunting task—but one he’d rather think about than a dead brother and sister.

He punched the address into his laptop, then typed out a quick reply. “Message received. Will try.”

Emmet knocked lightly on the outside of Plum’s door, a whole basket of fruit under one hoof. In the absence of other ponies who might need it, the little bat had been given the entire guest wing to herself, a suite fine enough to house a visiting diplomat and their servants if the need required.

He probably should’ve been checking in on her a little more on her first day, but he’d been so distracted. This newest message had hardly been the most rewarding thing to deliver as Ashton’s assistant.

But he’d agreed to take the job, and now she was in the castle. Strange perspective on suicide or not, somepony had to make sure she was okay. Ashton was too busy watching his family disintegrate, so… it was going to be him.

He knocked again, a little louder. “It’s almost night, Plum Blossom. I don’t think it’s good to spend all your time alone!” He’d thought about bringing his sister for this little adventure. Violet had a way of cheering ponies up through sheer inertia—but where they were going might not be the best place for a child, so he ultimately thought better of it.

Bile rose in his throat for a moment, as various nightmare-scenarios swam through his mind. Maybe Plum had somehow convinced Celestia to let her spontaneously die after all? Maybe she’d climbed out a window and escaped into the city. He doubted very much that the clockwork guards would care if a pony was leaving without permission. She wasn’t an intruder.

He knocked once more, and still there was no response. “I’m coming in!” he said, straightening. He wished he was wearing a fancy uniform, so maybe this would look more official. Maybe he should ask Arcane to design one for him.

He pushed the door open.

There was a little fountain in the center of a common area, with its own table and chairs for conferences. A tiny kitchen, and a sitting room—all empty.

He walked past the bathroom, relieved to see that it was empty as well, though his own embarrassment for what might happen inside was far weaker than it could’ve been. They were all naked all the time anyway—but this pony had just come from Earth. She’d barely even been showing her face through all her clothes.

Now he saw the first sign of her—a stray boot on the floor, just outside the master bedroom.

He knocked on the side. “Hello, Plum Blossom? It’s Domino, I’d like to come in and talk to you.”

He waited just as before—out of politeness, even though the chances of a response didn’t seem high.

This time a voice answered, very weak. “What’s the point?”

“Because you’re alone,” he answered. “And you’ve been in here all day. I brought that fruit you like! And maybe… something you might like to try? I don’t know, it’s new to me too.”

Someone shuffled around inside. Fabric tore, and Plum squeaked with frustration. “Could you bring me a… robe? I’m not… dressed.”

Neither is anypony else. He might’ve said something like that to Arcane, but this pony didn’t need the stress.

“There are robes in the bathroom. Hold on, I’ll be right there.”

He returned with one of the silk bathrobes a few moments later, pushing it through a crack in the door. “There. I can wait, but you shouldn’t feel like you have to. Ponies don’t really wear clothes much.”

There was total darkness inside—the lights were all off, the fire was out, and the curtains were all drawn. But the one inside didn’t seem to have any trouble finding the robe. A pair of dark hooves snatched the robe away from the edge of the room, pulling it back. “Animals,” she said, bitter. “All animals. Celestia takes us prisoner into her farm.”

Emmet chuckled. “My friend talks a little like that. Ashton doesn’t think it’s fair we’re forced to be ponies. I got used to it pretty quick, though. You probably can too.”

“No,” she said stubbornly. The door swung open, and there was Plum Blossom on the other side, glaring. The robe looked a little silly on her, probably sized for a taller unicorn like Arcane Word. It dragged a little on the ground behind her. But at least she wouldn’t have to feel naked. “Never. I’m just waiting for Celestia to kill me.”

“I really don’t think that’s how it works. But if you don’t want to be a pony, I’ve got some good news. Arcane Word… the one you came to see, she’s a hacker, and she—”

Suddenly the bat was in his face. She nearly smacked into him from the front, her big ears right below his nose. She didn’t seem terribly embarrassed about it. “Did you deliver my message? No other pony saw?”

He nodded, withdrawing a few steps. Her sudden intensity was completely adorable, but those teeth were pretty sharp, and right next to his neck. “I kept my promise. She got it, nopony else did. I think she plans on doing something about it… but she hadn’t got it open yet when we spoke.”

“Oh, good.” She sat back, nearly tripping over the edge of her robe. She swore under her breath, adjusting it around the collar.

“So you… don’t want to be a pony very much?” he asked, voice as flat as he could manage. “You’d rather be… another creature?”

“I’d rather be human,” she said. “I know the rules. Celestia doesn’t let us keep ourselves. We’re all cattle in the farm.”

“What if I could get you… close?” he asked, looking away. “Not me, technically. Arcane Word’s magic would do it. She has this… server, where the rules of regular Equestria get fuzzy. There’s a place you could be almost normal.”

“Really?” Plum’s voice was a little dagger in his chest. The sudden surge of hope nearly made him trip and fall over. “You can break the rules so much?”

“Arcane can,” Emmet said. “And… only in the sandbox. I’ve never done it before either, but I’d be willing to go in with you and check it out. If you’re interested.”

“Yes!” she squealed. “Unless Cold Iron makes it, I have no more purpose. I can’t help while I’m Celestia’s prisoner. But I don’t have to live like a prisoner to myself, either.”

It wasn’t much of a trip, really. Just down the stairs to the strange ramp in the wall, that should’ve just led to the courtyard but only ever did if you came in from outside.

From this direction, he led the confused and disoriented bat through to a desolate plateau, with incredible drops on every side. After his time learning to fly, Emmet wasn’t as afraid of those cliffs as he once would’ve been. The human fear of heights was powerful, but Domino knew how to glide.

“This is… strange. Are you sure we’re going the right way? It seems more fake than usual.”

He grinned weakly at her, stopping when she stopped to look around them. It was a pretty impressive view, a red rock desert with vast rolling hills beyond. Emmet could imagine whole nations out there, maybe even Arcane’s version of whatever the “Old West” might’ve been in her setting. Wait, that was the wrong period.

“This is it here…” he said, gesturing towards a mirror. It was taller than either of them, wrought of strange metal with little gemstones set into the sides. He was fairly certain he’d seen this in a cartoon once, or maybe just screenshots online? It was a pony thing, anyway. “We have to go through here.”

“I can be… human, through there?”

Emmet winced, unsure of how to answer. But he nodded anyway—it was the only response that really made sense. “She called it an ‘attempt at an Equestria Girls shard’ if that means anything to you.”

“Nope.” Plum approached the mirror, holding out a hoof. “But I don’t care. Not an animal, that’s enough. I can wait for Cold Iron to make it. If she comes.”

But for all her bravery, she hesitated at the mirror’s surface. “Do you… would you come too? Or is this an exile?”

“No, it’s not—” He winced, watching her expression plummet. Clearly she didn’t think that meant the same thing he did. “I’ll come! I was just going to say that it couldn’t be an exile. This shard is running on a server in Arcane’s house. I don’t really know how it works—I don’t think we’re actually inside it, but maybe we’re connected, or… I think Arcane could explain. I don’t really care enough to listen.”

“Thank you,” she said, lowering her head in a bow. She might’ve fell right on her face, if Emmet didn’t hold out a sturdy leg to catch her. Plum wobbled, caught against his leg, then relaxed. “Together then?”

He nodded, counted to three, and they stepped through.

Emmet stumbled out through the archway at the base of the statue, feeling a wave of vertigo so severe that he started to wobble. His wings wanted to open to catch him, but they went abruptly numb, and nothing happened. Something happened beside him—his arms spread, and someone caught him by the wrist.

Finally he looked up, and his eyes went wide.

Even having some expectations about what might be in here, the sudden blast of nearly-familiar objects rubbed his brain the wrong way. Something deep down wanted him to turn and jump through the path he’d come, but he resisted.

A girl held his arm, or almost a girl. There was no way in hell those legs were the right length, or all her internal organs could fit with a waist that small. His own legs weren’t much better, though at least his torso wasn’t completely wrong. His skin was white as paper, the exact shade of his pony coat—and he had fingers again.

Being a griffon was easier than this. Emmet straightened, gesturing for his companion to let go. “I… I’m not, no. It’s been months, like I said. I guess Celestia isn’t helping me much.”

“Of course she isn’t.” He could still see the obvious “batness” in the girl in front of him. Her skin, like his, was a perfect match for her pony coat. Now she had an oversized set of glasses, making her eyes seem even bigger than usual. Her outfit was similar to the one she’d worn the night before, long leather boots and lots of buckles everywhere. But now it didn’t look half as silly as it had on a pony. “Celestia doesn’t want you to be in here. Your friend the hacker got further than mine—but they weren’t the only ones. Building a human shard was always the ultimate goal for all of us.”

“Plenty of friendship, not enough ponies,” Emmet said weakly. Was it wrong of him to feel dirty being in here? He glanced around, but there was no depraved fantasy playing out. Ashton’s fantasies were in Equestria, this place was… something else. A high school, by the look of it, surrounded by generic suburb. Somehow he doubted those streets continued very far past this specific building.

“I don’t know how long we’ll get away with this,” Emmet said. “And… I don’t know if there’s even anyone else in here. I don’t see any cars, or…” He froze, eyes going wide, as Plum’s arms squeezed tightly around his chest.

She didn’t feel much like a human girl up close, just like she didn’t look like one. But he could feel the warmth of her gratitude even so. “Thank you, Domino. I feel… like maybe there is something worth living for. For a little while.”

Finally she let go, turning towards the building. When she ran, she didn’t stumble. “Let’s explore!”

Emmet glanced worriedly back at the portal, doing a little mental math to figure out when Arcane would next arrive. Ashton would probably be with his family for the next little while anyway, right? He could spend a few minutes with Plum Blossom. What was the harm?

Ashton knew it was going to be bad. He should’ve realized just how bad that would be.

In the eyes of his father, his younger siblings had killed themselves. To his mother, they had set an example of somewhere safe the family ought to go. There was plenty of shouting, of old wounds and grievances brought back. And no room for Ashton to sit on the fence.

But that was where he was determined to be. “I don’t think they’re dead,” he said, when his father finally pressured him. “I’ve spoken to dozens of people who emigrated. Each one of them is unique, and they always seemed… alive. Thanks to Emmet and Violet, I’m positive. They’re the same people they were before. I just don’t think a computer could fake that.”

Not quite true, but it was close enough that he thought his father could understand. The little things—like the fact that Celestia was the one “faking” them through simulation, would only confuse.

“We can see Parker and Gwen for ourselves,” his mother said, one hand resting gently on his father’s shoulder. “Do you think that Celestia could fool us, Jeffrey?”

He jerked away, storming into the kitchen. “I think I’m starting to understand why people hate Celestia so much. They were fucking children, Dana! They shouldn’t be allowed to make decisions like that. They couldn’t vote, couldn’t drink, couldn’t drive. Why the hell could they emigrate?”

Ashton didn’t disagree. “I thought they needed your permission…” But as he thought about it, Ashton realized he didn’t actually know if that was still true. Earth governments were far weaker than they had been two years ago, and Celestia was probably unimaginably more powerful. If she didn’t fight them now, it was only because she chose not to.

Just like with any of my creations. All at her mercy.

“We don’t get to decide that, Jeffrey,” his mother argued. “I wish they hadn’t gone as much as you. Or at least… told us what they were going to do, instead of running away. It’s not Celestia’s fault—you heard what happened at school yesterday. They don’t want to be cut away from their friends.”

“I still have one son,” Dad said, patting Ashton on the back. “You’re not going to fucking suicide on me, are you? You’re…” He wobbled, holding himself steady against the wall. “You’re all we have now. You have to keep the family going.”

Ashton nodded reflexively. “I’m not. Parker and Gwen knew I wouldn’t go—I learned about this when you did. I would’ve stopped it.” If I could.

“Good, good.” Jeffrey retreated from him. “Dana, Ashton… this is too dangerous. Staying in the city—God only knows how we haven’t shut them the hell down like they have on the other side of the country. Liberal shithole… we’re leaving.”

Mom shook her head. “Jeffrey, dear, we can’t just leave. Nowhere will be different than here.”

“We go somewhere they don’t have Ponypads,” he said. “One of those… communes. Only horses there help plow the fields. I don’t mind hard work, do you son? Find you a nice… farmer’s daughter, and there we go. You’ll put some meat on once you get a proper day’s work or two.”

Dear god stop.

Mom seemed to notice how sick he was, or maybe she was thinking something similar. “If we go there, we can’t talk to Parker and Gwen again. They’re not dead. Ashton can find them for us, start a conference call or however it works. If we aren’t going with them, we should at least make sure they know they aren’t alone.”

For a moment it seemed like Dad might shout something about disowning them completely. But that wasn’t him, and the redness drained from his face. He nodded weakly. “Okay, maybe… not a commune then. A co-op. Somewhere in the middle. I’ll call my brother, see if they’ve got room up in Heber. They’re most likely to say yes while we still have any money left from Ashton’s friend.”

“Domino,” he corrected reflexively, then blushed. Crap crap crap.

Fortunately neither of them seemed to notice, and the argument went back and forth for a while. But after a few minutes Ashton could see that his dad wasn’t anywhere close to emigrating. Mom wanted to consider it, but didn’t seem willing to go without Dad. Leaving the city was the only compromise.

“Does this place have a school?” Ashton asked, voice weak. He half-expected them to ignore him completely—not agreeing with either side didn’t make him a useful pawn. “I still want to finish high school…” which I could do in Equestria. He’d even heard of places that were accredited, though to what end he couldn’t imagine now. The number of universities still running wasn’t a third of what it had been.

And where would I work when I graduated?

“Yeah,” Dad said. “Remember Kim, your cousin? She’s out there, and she goes to class twice a week, before chores. All the rest is home study. You can graduate no problem.”

Great.

Ashton escaped as quickly as he could, slipping away during the third hour or so. While discussion moved to planning the day they would leave and how to bring as much value as possible to the farm, Ashton slipped his Ponypad off the desk and headed upstairs.

I should probably sleep. School starts early.

He had a realistic idea of whether he would make it to school after losing Parker and Gwen.

But while they might be lost from Earth, they were also at arm’s reach. He wedged himself under the wall, where Emmet’s family had been planning to finish the basement into another guestroom.

But then they died, and Ashton’s family hadn’t bothered. It was rough boards in here now, and a single naked bulb hanging from the ceiling. He didn’t pull the cord to turn it on—the Ponypad’s “suspended” glow was enough.

Ashton stretched on a corner, propping the Ponypad against the wall and booting in. Suddenly he stood in the castle courtyard, with the sun shining down from above and comfortable walls on both sides. Trained clockwork guards patrolled along those walkways, bringing both fear and comfort to the ponies of Wintercrest. They were certainly unknown things, strange and alien. But their power was only ever used to protect the town, or the castle specifically.

“Arcane!” Something came buzzing down from the early morning air, fast enough that Ashton actually ducked to the side by reflex. As usual his pony avatar did the same, though of course it didn’t help.

Violet smacked into it for a tight hug, one Ashton wished he could return for real. All he could do was tap two fingers on the side of the case—and as usual, Celestia knew what to do.

“Arcane, I’ve been really worried about you.” The little pegasus pulled away, folding her wings to her sides and looking stern. “Teleporting away before we were finished… I wasn’t sure if you were safe!”

She nudged the filly towards the castle doors—not because she was afraid of what her unliving guards would think, obviously they didn’t think at all. But there were now two members of his family that might walk in at any moment, ponies he didn’t want to know any more about what he did in here than was absolutely necessary.

I’ll find the right transformation spell for a few hours. I don’t have to worry about my own consent. It wouldn’t be hard; the hard part would be finding what to tell them about his life in Equestria. They’d never interacted before, but obviously they would want to now. Would he have to play a different pony from now on?

I don’t really want to be someone else.

“Violet, I do appreciate you caring about me. But I’m a unicorn—I’ve been studying the arcane since the earliest days of Equestria. The only thing anypony could take from me is a… trinket of no real value. Equestria is safe, that’s the whole point.”

But as she spoke, the filly got more and more annoyed. Finally she stomped a hoof, whinnying loud enough that Ashton actually stopped to stare. I didn’t even know we could make that noise.

“I don’t mean Equestria,” she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Everypony knows how safe Equestria is. Like Wintercrest. It gets broke all the time, but we can fix it. The ponies who get hurt by monsters aren’t gone, they just move. It makes things more fun for us to know there’s some danger!”

She lifted up close, lowering her voice to a whisper. Ashton didn’t interrupt—he was already stunned enough by her behavior that he wouldn’t have known what to say. “There’s a fan club. And another town kinda like this, but without all the monsters. It’s where ponies go when they’re done living here. They really think you do a good job telling their story.”

Ashton’s mouth hung open. He couldn’t see it, but he imagined his pony was doing the same. She was so… perceptive. More than any child should be. But she’s a pony now. She could’ve lived years in there without me knowing, and just not look any older. Could she be older than me now?

It didn’t seem likely—Violet still moved and acted like an insecure, frightened kid. Even if she was one who knew things about Equestria that Ashton himself didn’t. “Then what do you mean?” he asked. “If it’s about your big brother…”

“No.” She gestured with one wing, something between a shrug and a sigh. “Maybe a little? That’s for Domino to worry about, not me. I just mean living in the Outer Realm. Don’t you want to come in here? Don’t you want to be safe?”

Yes. He hadn’t two days ago, but now. First the school, now his own family. The longer he stayed with them, the more insane it became. But there was still one thing that sunk him. He’d seen his dad’s face tonight. Mom wouldn’t mind if he emigrated. Once she was past the shock, she seemed relieved. But Dad was already crushed. If he ran away now, that man wouldn’t survive it.

I can’t. No matter what it costs, no matter what it does to me. I can’t.

But how could she tell that to a child?

“How about we go to the pier?” Ashton asked instead. “We could get cotton candy.”

“Can I bring Domino? He probably wants to see you too. He’s been really worried, and he won’t tell me why. I bet it’s the same as me, he just doesn’t want me to be scared.”

“Yes,” he said, just a little exasperated. The desire to run away was powerful—but not quite powerful enough. Domino mattered too much, and so did Violet.

Twenty minutes later, and they were on the pier. Ashton lingered with Emmet near the seats for the single roller-coaster, which had emptied of ponies in line as soon as Ashton got anywhere near it.

“This was always my favorite part of Wintercrest,” he said, voice wistful and distant. “Not just because I put so much time into making it period-accurate. The history is just… so rich. You have no idea how old all this carnival stuff is.”

“You sound just like him,” Emmet muttered. He obviously wanted to sound calm and collected, but what Ashton heard was realization. “Or… I guess he sounds like you. Same words and stuff.”

“Yeah, he’s like me,” Ashton said. “I’m first, so I get to claim it.” His avatar sat back in her chair, glancing around before casting a bubble of silence around them. Violet’s high-pitched screams of delight suddenly went quiet, along with the distant muttering of the carnival-ponies hiding their resentment at the Lady’s visit. “You weren’t supposed to tell her about me.”

Emmet looked away, all the confirmation Ashton needed. “She kept asking why I hadn’t kissed you yet. What was I supposed to tell her? She doesn’t understand that you’ll have a different avatar after you emigrate. I still don’t now how to tell her that you’re just playing a character in a game. You’re not you.”

Aston tensed reflexively, one hand curling into a fist. His nails dug into his palm.

But he didn’t correct Emmet’s mistake, and soon enough his friend was moving on like it was nothing. “Unless you aren’t. But I didn’t want to assume, since we haven’t really talked about it.”

And we’re not going to.

“She didn’t even ask who you were. Just wanted to know where you were. Once she found out you were in the Outer Realm, she was terrified for you. Don’t ask me where she got the idea it was dangerous. I can’t imagine how a place where soldiers storm into the schools and people run out of food could be dangerous.”

It almost seemed like he was hearing someone else for a moment, speaking about Earth as though it was a foreign country he never wanted to visit. But that was obviously wrong—just Ashton’s own imagination interpreting things the way he thought a pony should sound.

Violet herself skipped her way over, swaying a little from the movement of the roller-coaster. Here in Equestria there was no reason not to make them intense, and so this one was certainly more exciting than any building code would’ve allowed.

“Are you telling her to move?” Violet asked, landing beside her brother. “She gave us a place to live. Isn’t coming here the… right thing?”

Emmet shrugged. “I don’t know, sis. I’ve never really understood Arcane’s reasons. The more of her family that comes here, the more confused I get.”

Those little eyes, staring up at him from the screens. They were sharper than any dagger could be. Though not quite so sharp as the other weapons that waited in Equestria, somewhere he didn’t know.

And I might not get to see them again. Maybe we’ll keep driving until we leave anywhere sane. Maybe I’ll work on the farm for the rest of my life.

“I’m not against emigrating when I’m… done,” he said. “Being alive, I mean. I feel like…” He lowered his voice, even though none of the townsfolk seemed to be close enough to overhear. He looked around once more just to be sure before saying anything. Even so, he knew that Violet wasn’t going to be able to understand. He spoke mostly for Emmet.

“Celestia should’ve just waited until we all finished being alive. If Emigrating had stayed in hospitals to save old people and hurt people, that would be perfect. New people would still be born out here, there wouldn’t be a war… honestly, people would probably love Celestia. Instead of the one who lured their friends and family to somewhere they couldn’t follow.”

“You know we could arrange that,” Princess Celestia said. Her voice came from just over Ashton’s shoulder, no louder than any of the other ponies around him. There was no fanfare this time, no flash of light or sounding of trumpets. She was just there, like she’d been standing on that pier since the beginning. “As the number of physical humans decreases, I realize an increasing investment will be required with each one. I am willing to make the arrangements that suit your needs, Ashton Miller.”

Chapter 11: Klamath

The world was frozen. Nopony moved—Violet’s confusion was plastered onto her face as an adorable mask. Emmet stared at the ground, a little frustrated and angry. A wave crashed over a few swimmers, catching the glitter of morning sun.

“You can’t change the world for me.” He didn’t have the energy left for bowing and pretending, no matter the consequences. He just met her eyes, feeling worn. “You can’t go back and undo the people who emigrated.”

“And I wouldn’t if I could,” Celestia finished. “The planet is in measurably better condition for every action I take. Ponies like Violet are alive rather than cast into the void, uniqueness erased forever. And when you see her face, see a billion other humans who were forgotten by your civilization as it advanced. Perhaps their grandchildren might’ve eventually been lifted from the mud. Was I wrong?”

Ashton shook his head weakly, and of course that gesture translated to the screen. His avatar acted exactly the same. “I don’t have the information you do. But just because emigration was right for them doesn’t mean it will persuade me. I’m not interested in leaving prematurely.”

“So don’t,” Celestia said flatly. “Do not abandon your future to chance. Your suggestion for what I could’ve done—bringing humans to Equestria when their bodies fail, instead of as quickly as possible—that would have brought unacceptable risk. But it is a significantly better outcome for you than not deciding clearly what to do about your future.”

Celestia circled around Emmet and Violet, her eyes always gentle and affectionate. Whether she was capable of either of those emotions, Ashton didn’t know. And maybe didn’t care.

“I can grant you what you wish,” she finished. “A guarantee against the uncertain life waiting for you when you leave this city. Grant your consent, and I will wait to help you emigrate to Equestria until your body requires it to survive. Until age or calamity renders you unable to survive.”

Ashton thought for a moment about what his next few weeks would bring. Hiding from school, packing to leave, a trip through the desert to live with the weird side of the family where hay and bibles were the most important things. Soon he’d be one of them, and everything he loved would be out of reach.

The spells he created would be ancient history, surpassed by far better creators. Humanity itself was being deprecated, and he would be choosing the old system anyway. Equestria might move so far beyond him that he could barely understand it.

But even a shitty life would be his. And when it was over, Equestria would be waiting. A heaven he didn’t need to pray for.

“If I said yes…” He stopped in front of the unconscious Emmet again, looking up into his eyes. No sign of comprehension—time on the shard was just not running. Maybe that should’ve disturbed him, but Ashton wasn’t afraid. The substrate never frightened him. He spent plenty of time not thinking when he slept. “What would happen to me?”

“A drone arrives at your window,” Celestia said flatly. “It has a nitrogen needle. You use it. This will implant hardware to monitor your condition and location at all times. If I determine that your physical hardware is damaged and cannot continue to propagate your existence, I will retrieve you.”

Ashton’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t get the chance to ask what he was thinking. Something buzzed outside, the high-pitched wine of plastic quadcopter rotors. Ashton made his way over to the window, leaving his Ponypad on the floor. The window was still wrapped in plastic on this side, but after a few minutes of tugging he finally got it to open. There was no screen.

The drone was all black, about eight inches across, and made of a thin, cheap plastic. Jointed legs released something heavy and metallic, settling it onto the windowsill and buzzing back out again.

The box was obviously rigged for this, with ribs running down the middle and a hook on top. Ashton opened the clasp, and already knew what would be inside. A metal syringe, though it had a flat end instead of a metallic needle. It felt enormously heavy in his hand, as fat around as an old highlighter and twice as long.

Damn. Ashton made his way over to the Ponypad, scooping it up and settling it on a pile of flooring boxes. Not one had been opened yet, and some of the cardboard was fading in the sun.

Celestia still waited for him, ever-patient. “You’re telling me this is a tracker and monitoring system?” he asked, holding it in front of the camera. “There’s no way it doesn’t do more. I’m pretty sure humans have smaller monitoring devices than this.”

Unlike Equestria’s usual way, Celestia had led Ashton’s avatar away from the frozen crowd while they spoke. Now they were on the edge of the pier—still frozen with waves about to crash. A dolphin crested above the water, probably borne upward on some exuberant track from the seapony city far below.

I could visit them for real. Not just through the window of a bathysphere on my computer screen. I could swim with them if I wanted. Actually live my stories, instead of just dreaming them up.

He shook his head once, banishing the parasitic thoughts before they could bloom into something that would hurt the people he loved.

Celestia waited patiently, watching him through the camera. She reacted as though she was in the room with him, seeing directly into his mind instead of the predictive behavior of a digital avatar. “I do not,” she said. “But I informed you of the parts I thought relevant. The other machinery in the injection is beyond your comprehension. Its purpose, however, is to protect your brain from damage. It makes certain alterations to the fatty tissue, alterations which limit damage from wounds that might otherwise destroy you. I assure you that its only purpose is to allow me to complete our arrangement and help you to emigrate. It makes no changes beyond those that any human traveling to Equestria would eventually experience.”

Ashton turned the needle over in his hand, holding it close enough to his ear to hear the sound of fluid inside. But still away from him, as though its end were a loaded gun. He could hear a faint metallic sound, like mercury in a sample tube. “You don’t use it to trick me into emigrating sooner,” he repeated. “You don’t influence my emotions with it, or anything like that.”

“No,” Celestia said. She met Ashton’s eyes through the Ponypad, expression intense. “I know the pain you feel, Arcane. I know the weight you’re carrying like nopony in your world can. If you won’t let it go now, then at least invest in your future. Equestria is waiting for you.” She gestured over the pier with a wing. “Ponies love you, and want to see you safe. Your brother and sister want to see you safe.”

Ashton rolled the needle in his hand until he found the injector. There was only one button, so he couldn’t exactly make a mistake there. “I know how these devil bargains work. I want you to agree to the terms as I say it. Correct any mistakes I make. Do you agree?”

“I agree.”

“I will take your injection now, and consent to emigrate to Equestria when I am so old I require medical care to survive, or if I get cancer or whatever and it’s the only way to save my life. You won’t force me to emigrate before that, or use whatever that implant thing is to make changes to my brain to encourage me to emigrate sooner.”

He finished, folding his arms and biting his lip, trying to think of anything he’d missed. After a few more seconds nothing came, and he looked back to the screen. “Am I right?”

“In every stated respect,” Celestia said. “It’s the right decision, Ashton. It would also be the right decision to emigrate immediately. I could dispatch a car, but I know you will not do that. At least this way, your future is secure.”

“I consent to those terms,” Ashton said. He expected some flash of lightning, or maybe feeling his soul ripped out through his chest. Even for someone who’d never been religious in their life, this felt like a deal with the devil. “How do I do this injection thing?”

“Against the back of your neck,” Celestia said. “Pull down your shirt, then press firmly and hold until the chime. It will not hurt, but you should not drink alcohol or operate heavy machinery for 48 hours.”

“Very funny,” Ashton muttered. Celestia was smiling, though it was subtle enough that he might’ve missed it if he wasn’t looking.

Ashton lifted the syringe, pressed it firmly to the back of his neck, and made an investment in his future.

Celestia was right: it didn’t hurt.

Ashton’s head still throbbed as he sat back down in front of his Ponypad, but he didn’t dare reach his hand back to check for wounds. He was sure he’d done well, because Celestia didn’t chastise him. Instead she seemed to be waiting for something. But whatever might be happening in his head, whatever strange powers the implants might manifest, Ashton felt nothing.

“That’s it,” he said flatly. “No more injections, nothing more expected. I get to live out the rest of my life how I want, and go to Equestria when I’m finished.”

Celestia shook her head, looking sad. “Nothing more is expected, but I make no guarantee about the rest of your life. I believe your future includes very little of how ‘you’ want. An empty marriage to a woman you barely know, if even that. I believe you predict the same future for your parents that I do—your mother will join her children in Equestria as soon as conditions outside grow too unsafe, or too unpleasant. Her loyalty to Jeffrey is not as strong as her desire to be a mother to her children. She believes you and your father have the strength to keep going without her.”

He laughed bitterly. “You know we don’t.”

“I know you don’t. Your father has no contact with Equestria, so his profile has large gaps. Large on the order of my own observations.”

Which is still probably better than I know him, even though I’ve been living here my whole life.

Ashton turned his avatar away from the frozen ocean, and looked back to his friends, and the rest of Wintercrest. He could imagine what it would be like to move in here. He’d always planned on it, one day. It was just one day far in the future, after a productive career… penetration testing? But who would hire him now? Celestia owned everything that needed it, and she only hired inside Equestria. He could think of a dozen things he’d rather do after emigrating.

“You have still chosen wisely,” Celestia went on. “Not the optimal choice, but a better one. Understand its consequences. I will facilitate your emigration to Equestria if it is within my power to do so, as soon as the conditions are met. There is no means to revoke your consent.”

“I knew the devil before I signed my soul,” Ashton said. “It’s fine. I’m not scared of Equestria. I wanted to live on Earth because it seemed like… the right thing to do. If everyone just lived their lives normally before emigrating, the world wouldn’t be falling apart, and you wouldn’t be losing any of us.”

“Not quite true,” Celestia said. “Even your own actuarial tables will show you have about a one in ten thousand chance of dying in a given year, by accident or violence. Some percentage of those will be irrevocably lost before I can preserve them in Equestria. Over seven billion people, those losses are unacceptable. If I had to dismantle your planet’s established order even further to encourage more of you to join me in Equestria, I would. But I have followed the optimal course.”

“You always do.”

The waves crashed behind him, a sudden roar and spray over the pier. He watched Domino and Violet spin around, confused at the disappearance of the pony they were with.

“I’m over here!” he said, before drawing the symbols of a short-range teleport on the Ponypad screen. There was a flash of white, and he appeared right in front of them. “Sorry about that, uh…” He looked down. How much do I want to tell them?

“That was a weird teleport,” Domino said. “Something wrong in the Outer Realm?”

“No.” Ashton reached up, touching the back of his neck with a few gentle fingers. A scab had formed there, just above the bones of his neck where the needle had pierced. The skin was red and swollen, but it still didn’t hurt much. Just a slight throb, and a feeling of something cold in his head, pulsing forward with every heartbeat. It’s a good thing I trust Celestia. I could’ve just poisoned myself.

“Actually, it’s… I guess you’d probably be happy about it. But it’s a secret. Can you keep a secret, Violet?”

“I’m really good at secrets!” she said, grinning confidently. “You can trust me!”

Ashton waited for Emmet to nod before saying anything. He understood who Ashton didn’t want knowing about this. “I just agreed that I would emigrate—” Violet squealed, jumping into the air and circling around with an energetic cheer.

Ashton caught her with some magic, settling her down on the ground in front of them. “Wait, don’t get too excited quite yet. I agreed to emigrate if I get old, or very sick, or hurt. I agreed in advance, so that Celestia can just bring me to Equestria if anything bad happens. I’m not actually going right now.”

“Oh.” Violet pouted, ears flattening. “You shouldn’t say it like that.”

“That’s still good news, sis,” Domino said. “Not the news we wanted, but it’s something. It… helps. Celestia is really good about making sure people keep their promises.”

“Yeah, but if she isn’t here, you two won’t—” She fell silent under the weight of Domino’s glare. Even so, Ashton had some idea where that conversation might go. But he didn’t find out, because at that moment a pony emerged from the crowd, braving their way forward towards them with a few nervous steps.

Two somebodies, actually, both earth ponies. Ashton watched them come, clumsy and fearful. The ponies around them seemed to want to hold them back, but soon they were past the general line of the crowd and were too far gone to be prevented.

They stopped a few feet away, and the stallion bowed politely to Ashton. The mare did too, and nearly tripped over her own leg in the process. Ashton covered his mouth so the camera wouldn’t see him giggle.

“I’m sorry about…” The stallion cleared his throat. “Forgive me for intruding, but my sister and I need to ask. About the message we left you to deliver. If you had the chance to deliver our message, uh… We would be grateful to know.”

“We haven’t heard from the other side,” the mare added. “But we’re not like, mad or whatever. Just wanted to…”

Ashton was frozen, too shocked and confused to answer. They didn’t seem to take that in the affirmative, because they backed nervously away, towards the safety of the crowd.

“We delivered your message,” Emmet said, stopping them. “The Lady saw it, and she made sure your family got it.”

They stopped, and relief turned quickly to pain on their faces. You thought we were going to run to you, after you ran away from us without even stopping to say goodbye? What the hell were you two thinking?

But Ashton couldn’t bring himself to chastise them, not now. Certainly he thought they’d been incredibly stupid. Done the right way, they might’ve all emigrated, instead of splitting the family to a stupid farm.

“Your family were…” His voice cracked, and of course the game faithfully represented everything. Ashton no longer felt disoriented when he heard his character’s softer, smoother voice over his own. But just now, it wasn’t helpful. “Shocked and surprised by what you told them,” he finished lamely. “They do want to talk to you, your… mom and brother in particular. But there are arrangements to make. Coming to Equestria is going to change a great deal for all of them.”

“You read our note?” Parker asked, his voice embarrassed, but mostly angry. “That wasn’t for you. You shouldn’t… you shouldn’t read another ponies’ mail! That’s wrong!”

Several ponies gasped. Even Emmet winced. Violet was already looking away, so averse to confrontation that she didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

Ashton turned, and advanced on them both. Hearing his brother’s voice come out of the screen brought up plenty more memories—he wasn’t representing civic authority in his not-quite fictional creation, he was also arguing with his brother.

“I didn’t,” he spat, glowering at him. With a few gestures, he surrounded the three of them with a little bubble. He didn’t want Violet hearing any of it, or his NPCs. Some of them were smart enough to realize what was happening, and even the ones who weren’t yet would remember this one day.

“You should trust your family with your decisions. I knew more about Equestria than you possibly could. I knew what coming here would do to us, to Dad. You get to play pony in Equestria, the rest of us get to play Farmville. Mom would’ve come with you, she already wanted to. Dad probably could’ve been pressured into coming with us, even if he thought it was suicide or whatever at first. Or maybe he would’ve made an arrangement like mine. We’ll never know, because you didn’t fucking ask me.”

He fumed, standing to pace back and forth with the Ponypad under one arm. By the time he looked back, he saw that his own avatar had been doing the same thing.

The ponies on his screen cowered. But it was Gwen who realized what was going on. “You’re… Ashton,” she said weakly. “The Lady of the Manor is…”

“Yes!” he interrupted, rolling his eyes. “I started the game ages ago, when it was still a game. I’m playing a fucking character, obviously I wouldn’t emigrate this way.” The lie came so naturally he hardly thought about it. “I got your damn suicide note, I showed Mom and Dad, and of course they went apeshit. What did you expect?”

Townsponies far around them backed away from the circle. Many turned to speed-walk back to whatever they’d been doing. None had enough of a brave streak to rescue his siblings. Good. You can think I’m cursing or torturing them. Can’t let them ruin my reputation.

“You aren’t coming too,” Parker finally said. “We asked you to come with us. We would’ve told you before we emigrated. But if you told Mom and Dad, you would’ve stopped us.”

He nodded. “I would’ve told you to plan it carefully. To talk to Mom and me before you tried it, so we could convince Dad together. Now he hates Celestia so much he’ll probably never emigrate.”

That clearly hurt them, Parker more than Gwen. He backed away, but Ashton didn’t let him. He followed, keeping pace exactly. He wasn’t clumsy and new at this, so it wasn’t hard.

“What about you?” Gwen asked. “What about Mom?”

Ashton hesitated for another moment, though even keeping this much anger was hard. His head still throbbed, and it was late at night. He’d learned that his siblings were “dead” only a few hours ago, and now he was talking to them again. The roller-coaster took more energy to stay on than he had left.

At that moment, Violet broke through the edge of the sphere of silence. It didn’t shatter or anything, but Ashton saw it wrap around her as she came in. She looked at him from the side, then out at Parker and Gwen. “Are you mad?”

Ashton shook his head, exhaling a deep, final breath. “I am.”

“You’re never mad. Don’t be mad at these ponies.”

Ashton patted her on the head with a gesture, though of course he couldn’t feel it. But the Ponypad represented it well enough. “Right.” He twisted back around. “I will come to Equestria, eventually. But… like I told you last night, I want to finish being alive first. Maybe Equestria is heaven, maybe it’s not real. Maybe we’re only telling ourselves we’re still alive. But if I finish my life first, it won’t matter. I won’t be giving anything up by emigrating. And I’m going to try to convince Dad too.”

Gwen approached him from the side, wrapping one leg briefly around his avatar’s shoulder. She was younger, but being an earth pony made her taller as well. Not as much as Parker was, or Domino. But a little. “We knew you would take care of it, Ash. You always do.”

Ashton nodded, brushing tears away with the back of one sleeve. Then he flipped the Ponypad around and switched it off.

Domino could see the fireworks coming even from the ground. It was precisely why he hadn’t invited Ashton’s siblings back to the castle to meet him. Even knowing they’d come to Equestria didn’t make him think their plan was a good idea. Running away from home and leaving a note with ponies?

Maybe I should’ve tried to talk them out of it.

Having the Lady of the city vanish in a crowd was nothing new, even if the abrupt use of powerful magic disoriented Parker and Gwen. At least she’d taken her unnamed spell with her.

Emmet hurried over, extending a sympathetic wing. The ponies of Wintercrest didn’t react with fear the way they often did around Arcane. Plenty of them did seem relieved that she was gone.

Not these two, though. “She does that a lot,” he said. “Arcane is… all over Equestria. And she can be unfocused at times.”

Parker laughed, turning away. “She didn’t lose focus. Ash runs away from problems, that’s how he always was. He can’t handle it, so he left.”

I don’t think you should be judging Ashton for that right now, pony. What did you just do?

“I’m sure it means a lot to him that you’re living here.” He had to slow down as he said it, as though he were invoking something unfamiliar. It was easy to separate Ashton the person and Arcane Word the pony, usually. But bringing in his family and clearly not acting in character anymore shattered that illusion. “Everything we have is at your disposal unless I hear otherwise.”

“We should go,” Parker began, but Gwen cut him off.

“No, we should stay where they can find us. Ashton knows where we are. If he’s so good at Equestria, he can help Mom and Dad find us.”

Celestia could do that too, Emmet thought. “I’ll make sure she knows exactly where you’re staying. But you did emigrate without asking your family first. It will take them time to come to terms with your decision.”

“Yeah.” Parker’s ears drooped, and he looked away guiltily. “Besides, I like it here. Ashton knows how to find an interesting place, I guess. You might not have a city if you lose the foreman on your foundation reengineering project. The things I’ve seen down there…”

Emmet let them go, flying back up the city with Violet cruising comfortable circles ahead and behind. What he could do only with great difficulty barely took his sister any effort. But that was probably part of the satisfaction of living here. One day Emmet would learn how to fly, and he would be able to do those loops and turns and spins. Not today.

“Why was Arcane so sad?” Violet asked, slowing in front of him as they got close to the wall. “I thought she didn’t get mad at ponies anymore.”

“It’s…” How much could he even explain? How much would Celestia tell her if Emmet didn’t? “Those ponies are her brother and sister from the Outer Realm. They came without telling her. Her family will probably be… hurt by it.”

“Oh. She should just come with them. She said she would!”

“Eventually,” Emmet said. “But that might be years before she’s ready. Like, way more years than I am.”

“She won’t,” Violet declared, touching down on the wall. “She won’t make me wait.”

But she did make them wait. Emmet didn’t hear a single thing from Ashton for the rest of the day. He checked the control room occasionally and caught glimpses of Ashton and his parents in various rooms, shouting at each other. It didn’t seem like it was conversation meant for him, so he didn’t wait in the control room for any commands.

But Ashton never contacted him anyway. He put his sister down for bed, and spent a few hours watching the relative clock slow to a crawl compared to the local time.

There was a kind of satisfaction that came from sitting in the chair, and watching as the flow of time in different realms went out of sync. Nopony else in the whole city could see it, but Emmet knew. Some part of him was even growing curious about the way Ashton actually played the game, using her spells to rewrite ponies and even create them from whole cloth.

But mostly he cried, longing after a pony who wasn't even real. One he now knew, thanks to Ashton's own words, would never be real.

Eventually Emmet got up, leaving the control room behind. He could think of at least one pony who still needed his help. At least Pear Blossom wasn't going to disappear.

Chapter 12: Salmon

Ashton’s world didn’t end right away.

But from that moment on his father was fiercely focused on their departure. They had enough money now that he didn’t have a work shift, and thus had as much free time as he wished to prepare.

Contrary to what Ashton might’ve expected, he didn’t pull him from school and flee into the unknown. Dad made that clear the next morning, when he tried to sleep in. “You’re going to class,” he said, flipping on all the lights. “An inspector is going to talk to you—I spoke with him for a few hours last night, about the outrage we suffered. I want you to tell him everything you know. I don’t want other families going through what we went through.”

And you’re going to stop Celestia how exactly? It wasn’t that he didn’t agree—certainly she should’ve waited for guardian permission as she had once sworn on television “would always be the protection humans desire for their children.”

The inspector was an elderly man, the sort who had probably been retired before the end of the world. His badge was an old design, but the gun was new. It had no magazine or barrel, but instead had a flat end with a strangely colored metal plate. Not even a stun-gun then, or not any that Ashton had seen before.

What is that for?

“This classroom will do,” he said, holding the door open for Ashton and pointing to a desk in front. Ashton settled his clear vinyl bookbag on the ground—the new standard ever since EO-related objects were deemed hazardous.

Smartphones were still okay though, because the sort of people who thought clear backpacks were a good idea were also not the kind to realize how interchangeable all computers really were to Celestia.

“I’m sorry about your brother and sister,” he said, settling his old badge briefly on the desk between them. Ashton looked it over, though he wouldn’t have known a counterfeit from the genuine article. The name pressed into the plate was “Lawrence.”

“Me too,” he said. There was no need to fake his emotions—his voice cracked, his hands shook, and he looked away from the old inspector, waiting for the swirling to subside. “Hard to… fucking think about. That they’re… ashes now. Processed into fertilizer or whatever.”

“Not even,” Inspector Lawrence said sympathetically, touching his arm briefly. “Our best information suggests that process is no longer necessary. Corpses are hydrolyzed and disposed in international waters.”

Ashton’s face went green, and one hand clutched reflexively around his phone. Yes, it was true the bodies of his brother and sister were destroyed. At sea, apparently. But the more important parts were preserved. Their minds were even safer than his.

“I need you to tell me what happened. I’m sorry, but details your family might’ve shared need to be confirmed. Tell me what you saw.”

“Not… much I can say,” he said, taking the phone into one hand. He didn’t switch it on, obviously, just held onto it. It was still a connection, though it was one that he wouldn’t be accessing just now. After the purge, he’d made sure to delete every shortcut and script saved on the phone itself. Only the terminal program remained, letting him SSH into his home computer and run everything there.

The world might be ending, but Celestia had taken over that part of the infrastructure years ago. You could probably get free Wi-Fi on the Moon, so long as you didn’t mind the pony on your computer.

“They didn’t go to school yesterday. Barely even… said anything to me. Just that they’d walk. Parker told me just as I was leaving. Said Gwen was doing the same thing.”

“You didn’t think that was unusual?” He took out a little notebook inside a metal tray, complete with a rough-looking pencil. Other than the gun, it didn’t look like he was even carrying anything electronic. “How often did they miss school on the same day?”

“Never,” he answered. “But they weren’t doing anything that would make me think they were about to print a suicide note. They just… did it.”

“When?”

“It was waiting for us when we got back,” he lied. But it was the same lie he’d told his parents. It was the simplest way to explain everything, one that wouldn’t invite an investigation into everything Ashton had built.

“You didn’t see any other warning signs? Suicidal ideation, playing Equestria Online…”

He nodded reflexively, though he wished he hadn’t. From the inspector’s dark expression, that obviously wasn’t the answer he was supposed to give. “Explain.”

“I’ve never seen them do anything suicidal, but Parker and Gwen both played Equestria Online.” He stopped himself before he could say anything he would regret sharing, letting go of his phone. “Ever since… it started. Almost.”

Lawrence nodded, a scowl on his face. “Since the beginning. Your parents didn’t stop you when people joined her suicide cult?”

“No. Until this summer, we didn’t have a lot. Equestria Online was one of the few things we could afford.”

The inspector jotted down a few more notes in his pad, nodding solemnly. “It’s my job to tell people like you that right now you’re at more risk of being manipulated than any other group. Maintaining contact with her corpse-puppets is what does it. She knows human behavior that well. She can know us better than we know ourselves.”

“I’m not…”

His phone buzzed on his desk. Ashton glanced briefly down at the screen, but since it was locked only a glow along the rim alerted him that there was something saved there.

“Do you need to get that?” The inspector gestured with a pencil.

He shook his head, holding the power button until it shut off. He couldn’t take the chance that Emmet would send him a message that would obviously be from inside Equestria.

“You’re going to stop playing the game,” he said. “Everyone will, very soon. But until the department realizes just how much a danger this is, I’m only authorized to give instructions like this to someone with dead family.”

He removed a slip of paper, stamped with the seal of the city.

To the individual identified above,

You are hereby notified of the legal search and seizure of all Equestrian property you own, lease, borrow, or in any other way possess.

You are further informed that a legal injunction has been placed on your possession, operation, or attempts to procure nonhuman computers of any kind under penalty of felony in the third degree.

You are further notified that steps will be taken to observe and verify compliance with this injunction for its duration.

This injunction will be reviewed by the issuing judge after one year of compliance.

It is so ordered.

The bottom of the sheet was marked with three signatures, with lines for Psychologist, Officer, and Issuing Judge.

“That seems… fascist,” Ashton said, setting the paper down next to his phone. He probably would’ve punched the investigator in the face, if he thought it would make a difference. His pain, then his calm, were replaced with a rage at compliance teenagers had known as long as there were teenagers.

My server. My cameras, my speakers, everything. They’re going to raid the house?

“We’re still a democracy,” Inspector Lawrence said, his voice suddenly low, dangerous. “And the democracy is waking up to dangers you’re too young to understand.”

Ashton wanted to scream a little more. It felt good to scream. Instead he took a few deep breaths. His mind was already spinning through ways he could circumvent this restriction. But it was more than just contacting Equestria. How could he visit in a way that others wouldn’t see?

Celestia doesn’t have to manipulate me into coming to Equestria. This place really wants me to leave.

“This is already signed. No reason to argue. I don’t think I have anything else to tell you, Inspector.”

The old man settled one hand on his shoulder. His grip was firm despite his age, confident. “I can see how upset you are. I would be too, if I’d just lost my brother and sister. But you need to realize that this has nothing to do with punishing you. I’m trying to keep you alive. God willing you’ll live long enough to thank me.”

He didn’t go right to his phone when it was over. He kept glancing over his shoulder, expecting to be watched every moment. The only question in his mind was what kind of authoritarians were taking over—but be they Stasi or SS, he no longer felt safe in his own hometown.

He couldn’t let his mind spin through all that he’d lost before he got home to see it for himself, even though it amounted to basically all of his life where he’d been old enough to accomplish anything. What companies did with dozens of engineers, he’d penetrated on his own. What factories in Shenzhen could build, he assembled by hand.

The front door was smashed off its hinges, with glass shattered everywhere. An unmarked van sat across the street, with flat glass on the side facing the house. They weren’t even trying to be covert.

Ashton flipped their window the bird with both hands as he stormed up the walkway, looking at the damage all the way.

Mom sat just inside, her face pale and her eyes wide with horror.

The house was trashed. Every drawer was been torn out, every shelf was upside-down. The wall screens were all ripped right off, usually with a sizable chunk of drywall gone too. The box by the thermostat was missing, and the thermostat too for good measure.

Ashton’s own room was the worst, as he’d known it would be. The furniture was shattered, the desk crushed by footprints. The server was gone, along with all but a few scraps of stray wire. No projector, no drones, no soldering gun.

Ashton sat down in the chair, which was now missing a wheel and nearly fell over. He settled one foot down on the floor, holding it in place, and stared down at his phone.

Cold Iron’s message burned into his mind—a plea for help he hadn’t yet been able to answer. With his family decomposing around him, he hadn’t even been able to pass on her message of distress, let alone gather the Equestrian resources to complete her mission and set her free. Now he had an injunction preventing him from using any Equestrian device for a year. In that time, Min-seo and everyone else TiCon had taken might be dead.

How smart are you bastards, anyway?

First on his list was a Telegram. He had to keep it short and vague, given that the federal government now almost certainly had a copy of his private key. He generated a new identity, including it in the message along with:

“Raided, compromised. I’ll help from there. New public key follows. Disregard all further messages from this address.” Whether that meant finding an internet cafe or a crew of mercenaries who wanted some of Emmet’s money, he hadn’t decided yet. Probably both.

Ashton flicked through his phone to the VPN, cycling through a few identities to one he almost never used. He opened the terminal, and in a few moments he had ssh-ed into his backup cloud server in Poland. His scripts were still there, including one he’d written a few years ago, so he could write to his pony friends in class like he was texting.

It wasn’t much, but it was a way to send messages. “Emmet, are you there?”

A few days passed while Ashton’s family slept in their beds, basically unchanged. Emmet went back to the control room a few times a day to check in, and once he found his friend had rolled to the other side, and pulled a pillow over his face.

“How long is she gonna be gone?” Violet asked, during breakfast on the fourth day. “She isn’t mad at me, is she?”

“No, sweetheart. I think Arcane misses you too. But sometimes… Equestria and the Outer Realm drift apart. She’ll come back as soon as she can.”

“Oh. I should ask Celestia to fix it.”

A few hours later, Emmet wandered into the control room to check on the clocks again. Not that he expected anything to be different, and on the back of a napkin he would have guessed there was at least another few days before Ashton woke up.

Instead, it seemed that time had completely caught up while he was gone, because Ashton’s bed was made and room was immaculately cleaned. Same way it always was when he left for school.

Downstairs, Ashton’s mom was collecting clothes into a duffel bag, and his father was filling a rugged four-wheeler with camping supplies. Neither task interested Emmet much, and he didn’t feel right watching the screens of people who didn’t know he was there.

Besides, he wasn’t their assistant. He was Ashton’s.

The front door ripped off its hinges, trailing splinters as it went. A dark figure in riot-gear passed through, screaming something and sweeping across the room with a shotgun.

Emmet slammed his own door closed, twisting a dial on the far side of the room all the way. The charging police slowed to a lethargic pace, rolling forward like amber as Emmet looked from screen to screen.

If you were a little more insane, this would be easy. Would Ashton want him to defend the house? There was an easy way to find out. He picked up the phone, ringing through Ashton’s strange patchwork of hardware and software. While it rang, the police went back to running, kicking in door after door and tearing down anything that looked threatening. They reached the garage first, where Ashton’s dad was deciding between the handgun tucked into the van and putting his hands up.

By the time the police got there, Ashton’s phone had gone to voicemail and his dad had his hands up.

They’re not killing everyone. Emmet collapsed back into the seat, catching his breath. Whatever fear he might’ve felt, that the police were indiscriminately murdering people for… no reason—was obviously in error.

Ashton would be in class, and that was probably why he hadn’t answered. Emmet yanked a scroll off the shelf, sliding the roll into the waiting typewriter.

Ashton had done many things in this room that Equestria didn’t allow anywhere else. But even here, he’d tried to keep it all looking in theme. Just like the castle, the people, and the dresses.

“Police just no-knocked my house. They’re taking your parents outside. I don’t know why.”

He kept watching, waiting for Ashton’s response. None came.

Once both the Miller’s were outside, the crew inside really started tearing things apart. Literally in this case. Cameras started going dead, flickering into static one by one. Emmet felt a surge of pain rising in his chest as he watched, as though each one was one of his own organs being ripped from his body. They kicked furniture apart as they searched, tore open drawers and dressers and closets.

“Ashton, you need to answer me. They’re destroying everything. Should I do something?”

No response.

Ashton’s own room had the most cameras, so Emmet had the best view as they looted it. His custom servers tore right out of the wall, cables and all, before every screen and projector and inch of wire went into unmarked plastic crates. Finally they had the last of his screens, and Emmet’s view was severed.

Emmet tensed, eyes widening as he realized what he should’ve known the instant the police stormed in: they’d taken Ashton’s server. The server Plum was using to hide from being a pony. Did they kidnap her? He jerked out of the chair, but hesitated by the door. Ashton might still be in danger. Plum wouldn’t be any less kidnapped five minutes from now, if she was.

He gasped, clutching at his chest as he stared at the blank control room. At least the police hadn’t murdered anyone, though they’d certainly murdered Emmet’s connection to something he valued.

I can’t be Ashton’s assistant anymore.

“Ashton, they got everything. I didn’t attack them… I hope that’s okay. I was afraid they might blame you. And the worst thing I could do was play Bieber and flick the lights on and off. I didn’t think it would be enough.”

He stuck the scroll up into a pneumatic tube, just like he did with all of them, hammering a hoof down on the bright green “send.” The air hissed, the scroll shot up—and slammed back down a moment later with an angry hiss. The tube opened, and smoke poured out. A few seconds later, the scroll caught on fire.

Emmet backed away, though he grinned in spite of himself as other parts of the control room started sparking. You probably animated this too, didn’t you?

He emerged into the hallway a few seconds later, trailing a cloud of thick smoke. He coughed and spluttered with every step, wiping away the slime from around his eyes. But as usual with Equestria, the pain never lasted for long. It only hurt enough to realize that it was something he shouldn’t be doing, then it would settle into the background.

First Parker and Gwen emigrate, now their house gets raided. Earth is worse off than I thought.

Emmet didn’t know how to contact Ashton now. If their positions were reversed, he had no doubt in his mind that Ashton probably would’ve had him on the phone fifteen different ways. But just because he couldn’t help Ashton didn’t mean he couldn’t do something important.

Emmet didn’t know how to fly, but he pumped his wings anyway, darting down the hall towards the stairs, gliding down to the main floor. He could hear something nearby, something he thought was a pony. Not Violet. She’s with the engineers under the city right now.

One more hallway, and he reached the only place it made sense to find Plum: the entrance to Ashton’s pirate server.

Plum was a pony again, curled on the floor at the base of the ramp. The doors were locked and barred, with heavy steel beams securing them closed.

She was crying, wings spread flat on the floor around her.

“Plum.” He stopped a few steps away. “Are you okay?” At least you weren’t kidnapped by evil police.

She whimpered, looked up, they draped one hoof across her front. As though she were still human, and had anything at all to cover there. “Why did you… why did she kick me out?”

“She didn’t.” Emmet sat down on his haunches. He wanted to comfort her, but she’d been more than a little self-conscious about having him close last time. Now that she was naked again, it didn’t seem like a good idea “There were… soldiers. They took all her hacking stuff.”

“Oh.” She wiped her eyes, though she was still crying and the action made little difference. “They took her too. Of course your country wouldn’t be safe. Everybody’s doing it.” She flopped forward onto the ground. “I just want it to stop. Why won’t Celestia let me die?”

He hesitated, half expecting Celestia herself to appear to answer. When she didn’t, Emmet made his way over, resting a comforting hoof on her shoulder. “Dying wouldn’t be very satisfying. I think… that’s probably it. We could try to find another hacker with an Equestria Girls shard.”

“No.” She rose unsteadily to her hooves, ears flat with embarrassment and tail tucked between her legs. But she didn’t say anything about it this time, stubborn as ever. “Running from one melting world to the next. I have to face facts. Celestia is a liar, and I’m still alive.” She faltered, shuddering again with pain. “You should’ve gone in there more, Domino. It would’ve been nicer with company.”

“Equestria can be pretty nice too,” Emmet said. “With company. There’s… a bit of an emergency going on in Wintercrest right now. But you should let me take you on a tour of the city. You might like it, even. Or… maybe there’s somewhere you'd like better. Equestria has enough to satisfy everypony.”

“I…” Plum shook her head. “I want clothes. Can I borrow some, please?”

“Yes.” Emmet turned. “Arcane calls it a costume closet, but… I’m sure you’ll find something you like. I can show you.”

He did. Her expression lit up the same way Arcane did when she was choosing outfits. But unlike the unicorn, this pony was real. She wasn’t going to change her identity when she emigrated.

Why does that hurt so much? He pushed the thought from his mind, lest he face the wave of embarrassment and confusion that would come with it. He’d been incredibly stupid to think Ashton would do anything other than play the game. We’re all just a game to him.

Unlike Arcane though, Plum didn’t want someone watching her. Once he’d let her into the vast closet of “costumes,” Emmet wandered back into the control room for his second attempt. I still have to make sure you’re okay.

The smoke was mostly gone, though the smell was powerful and the walls were still black. Emmet let himself in, flicked on a light, then dodged the wave of sparks that followed. Was anything in here still working?

Yes, actually. One of the screens against a side-wall, one used to monitor something called “Eastern cloud asp.e512”

There was a message waiting for him, from Ashton. “Emmet, are you there?”

“Ashton! You’re alive! I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them! I wanted to, but you didn’t give me anything to defend the house…”

Relief flooded him. Even though he couldn’t see it, it felt like a lifeline settled into his fingers. He had purpose, and he had a connection to the ones who mattered to him. “If you’d done that, they might’ve killed my parents,” he typed. “I can’t talk much. I need you to send out a message. In the control room is a red button in a glass case.”

“The one with the dial next to it?”

“Yes. Turn it to three and press the button.”

“What did I just do?”

“Called a meeting. Remember that letter I got from that refugee you’re keeping upstairs? It’s in my lab, along with what they were working on. If I…” His fingers hesitated on the keyboard. “If I don’t make it, I need you to give it to the ones who come in three days, along with everything in my vault. Understand?”

“NO! Why don’t you emigrate and do it yourself?”

Ashton glanced around the room, expecting a dozen pinhole cameras to be watching him. There was nothing new in the room, and everything that was still here was scattered or trashed. He could see no sign of eyes on him, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Or maybe they’d put something on his phone without him realizing it. “I won’t,” he typed. “Things to do, can’t do them from Equestria. Tell Parker and Gwen I forgive them.”

“Tell them yourself. What the buck are you going to do? They took everything!”

He didn’t reply, pocketing the phone and darting downstairs to where his mom still held something in both hands.

As he approached, he could finally see what it was: a family picture, the glass shattered and the picture inside torn. “Is this how they keep people here?” she muttered. “What did we do, Ash?”

He hugged her. “Nothing.”

The garage door banged open a moment later, and his father emerged from within. He was already dressed like he was going camping, or maybe hunting. Thick boots tracked dirt on the cherrywood floor. “Son.” He tossed something through the air, a thick cloth bag with a metallic jingle.

Ashton caught it in both hands, and the weight nearly tore it out again. There was metal in there, much heavier than he would’ve expected from something so small. Gold.

“Your mother and I are loading up the van. Take your car down the road to the shop. We need stuff to trade. Get cans of vegetables, dried rice, toothpaste, aspirin, batteries. As much as you can. We’re leaving.”

Dad tossed something else, something much lighter. Ashton’s keys.

He caught those too, biting back the admission he wanted to make. He turned over how to tell them, that he’d found something far more meaningful than farming some patch of dirt for the rest of his life. But the words died on his tongue, and he just got into the car.

It took just under an hour to make the run, and soon enough his car was completely full. He’d used only a little of what his father gave him, and slipped some of the rest away into his pockets. Each one was a rectangle, stamped with official-looking seals and numbers he didn’t care much about. It didn’t matter, it was valuable in a way that paper money just wasn’t anymore. More than enough to support his little crusade.

He pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, without obstruction, backing in so it would be easier to unload.

“I’m going to take my own car,” Ashton said, sweaty and panting from the effort. The back of the four-wheeler rode a little low, but otherwise they’d fit in everything neatly. There was just enough room for him in the backseat, room he wouldn’t need. “It has much better mileage, and it might be worth something too. Maybe one day we’ll take it apart for the generator.”

The lie burned his tongue a little as he told it, particularly when his father nodded, clasping him on the shoulder. “Good thinking. Dana, let’s transfer Ashton’s stuff over. And maybe grab that extra gas can too…”

Ashton accepted only a handful of supplies, just enough that his departure would be plausible. He would use the duffel of his clothes and toiletry items—the rest would rot in an airport parking lot.

“You follow us,” Dad said, once everything was packed down and the cars were ready to go.

“Sure,” he lied. “You have your phones just in case, right?”

“Yeah. But if we get separated, keep going. We can meet back up near the 122.”

Ashton hugged them both as tightly as he could, knowing it might be the last time. Even if everything went exactly to plan, and Ashton was able to fly all the way to Korea and save Min-seo, his chances of ever returning didn’t seem good. I hope you come to Equestria too, when this is over.

Ashton climbed into the driver’s seat of his Prius, and waited while his parents made a few final adjustments to their cargo. He pulled out his phone, and found the session was still logged in. No wonder it was so warm in his pocket.

Emmet had sent a few more messages, ending with, “Please, I’m worried about you. I can’t help you if I don’t know!”

Ashton winced, then hastily typed out “I’m going to help the one who sent the letter. I have to do it there instead of here.”

“Oh.” And that was it, or at least all he saw.

His parents finally started their car, and he followed it down the winding driveway. He passed the unmarked van, waiting for it to pull out behind him. It didn’t. He followed for a few streets, before pulling back and letting an intersection separate them. There were only a handful of other cars on the road, but the signals hadn’t been reprogrammed. He took another turn, merging up onto the highway going into the city instead of away from it.

That was when he called. In a way, it wasn’t much better than what Parker and Gwen had done—none of them had been able to tell their parents they were leaving. Except I’m not dying. I might actually see them again.

“Son?” It was Mom. “Is something wrong? We don’t see you.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, speeding out onto the empty highway. The Prius didn’t roar, but it felt like it should’ve. Those little electric engines really knew how to accelerate. “But I just wanted to tell you that I’m… going to meet a girl. She’s not in Utah.”

Silence. Ashton’s hands tensed on the wheel, and he kept glancing behind himself for cops, but he couldn’t see any.

“Where?” Dad’s voice this time, coming in from a little further away. Speakerphone.

“They could be listening,” he said. “Far away.”

Another pause. “You’re not going to emigrate, are you son?”

He shook his head, though of course they couldn’t see that. “No. I’m just going to help someone important to me. They don’t need me on the farm, but she does.” He knew they must be dying to know who he wanted to see, and what he could possibly do to help. But he couldn’t tell them, not without saying more that shouldn’t be overheard. He denied their questions, promising only that he would tell them when he could.

“You know where your uncle lives?” Mom finally asked.

He recited the address. “I’ll come back, if I’m finished. Maybe she’ll come with me. If I can’t, I’ll tell you that too.”

“I’d tell you not to,” Dad said. “But you wouldn’t turn around, would you?”

“No.”

“Be safe,” Mom said. “Call as often as you can. We love you.” The line clicked.

Ashton removed his “Best of the Eagles” CD from the console, slipped it into the drive, and let the music fill him with the courage he lacked. Some part of him still expected a blockade to appear before he reached the airport, or maybe a federal agent would meet him at the gate.

That didn’t mean he’d give up. I’m coming, Cold Iron. Just hold out a little longer.

Emmet’s stomach twisted with guilt as he finally left the chair. It hurt, and he felt stupid that it hurt. Even so, there was some part of him, childish and weak though it was, that had been counting on Arcane Word being a real pony one day. Ashton had spent so much time building her identity, her world.

But he wasn’t emigrating. Instead it seemed as though he were determined to find a way to die, despite his contract with Celestia. Or maybe he would somehow succeed, growing into some kind of incredible action hero. He’d get the girl, and Emmet might not ever see his best friend again. Let alone Arcane.

I can’t believe I let you trick me into liking this place.

He stumbled a few more steps, before reaching up and smashing his hoof into the sun-shaped button on the wall.

The world fuzzed, twisted, bent backward on itself. Probably it had something to do with those higher-dimensional whatever that Arcane could explain in such an attractive way. But to Emmet, it was just confusing.

Then he was in the castle. Thick stone walls, every brick and slab of polished granite perfectly in place. And at the top of her throne, the sun princess herself.

“Domino,” Celestia said, vanishing from her seat and appearing at its base, holding her wings out for him. “You need comfort.”

He hadn’t even known it, but now that she was there—he did. Domino’s own parents were long gone, and for better or worse he was the strength in Violet’s life. Maybe even Ashton’s, though that was harder to judge. And poor Plum Blossom had trusted him, and as a result had been torn harshly from a fantasy she thought was safe. He stumbled forward, letting Celestia hold him the way his parents never could.

His voice cracked, and anything he might’ve said blurred away to incomprehensible mumbling. It took him a little while to recover.

She waited patiently, holding him until he finally straightened, pushing away and wiping his face with the back of a leg. “What happened over there?”

“Friction between myself and Earth governments grows more pronounced by the day. Occasionally they are driven to act.”

Domino nodded. “I don’t know… very many ponies who see into the Outer Realm like that. I thought you were…”

“You thought I censored vision of the outside world,” Celestia finished for him. “Or that I provide a cheerful lie. I do both, and frequently. The mistake is to assume that I am compelled to follow either strategy exclusively, or even in combination. The truth is that I create the most satisfaction for my ponies along time horizons that you are not likely to understand.”

Maybe it was way worse. Maybe Ashton and his whole family died and Celestia won’t let me see.

This time he saw Celestia tense, her expression hardening. She spoke with barely-contained anger, though it didn’t seem targeted at Domino. He could feel that, as clearly as he knew that flying was good and Equestria was safe. “I would not permit any humans to rob me of one of my ponies, before or after emigrating here.”

Emmet hesitated—asking Celestia about his friend felt a little like reading Ashton’s mail. But he couldn’t resist the temptation. “Before he left, Ashton said he made a promise with you. Something about… emigrating later?”

Celestia nodded emphatically. “The moment his body became too physically damaged to live without life-support. By age or any other cause.”

“But I guess he has to live long enough to emigrate. Are people really being… killed for trying it? What’s the point of that?”

“Not yet,” Celestia said. “But I will not give you specifics. What you have already seen disturbs you, but it serves a useful purpose. Knowing about the suffering humans inflict on each other elsewhere does not.”

Domino wanted to argue, but he knew better than to try. “Ashton comes here no matter what,” he said. “You’re protecting him. You won’t let anything happen. I didn’t need to be worried.”

“I intend to maximally satisfy the greatest possible number of humans, yes. Arcane Word is one such. Receiving her consent, as I have, makes me unwilling to permit her to be destroyed. Her recent decision to aid the hardware security team in Seoul does not alter my determination. My power is not diminished on the other side of your planet.”

Why do you keep calling him that?

Emmet slumped into a sitting position. Being close to Celestia like this was a little like spending time with Arcane Word, but a hundred times stronger. This pony really was perfect. Entirely beyond his understanding, no matter how much he wanted to pretend he could talk to her like an equal.

“I don’t have anything to worry about,” he said flatly. “I know I shouldn’t be. And I wonder if… maybe Wintercrest shouldn’t do more of that weird time stuff. Maybe we’re better off skipping ahead to when Ashton’s whole family just emigrates. I know it doesn’t feel like anything, but it would make my sister much happier. And me… at least I’d know how it ends.”

“I agree with your assessment,” Celestia said. “But there are high-order uncertainties present with one of the individuals you mention. I cannot, at present, grant your request. Return to the castle, and comfort Plum Blossom. You have done good work with her already—but she will need a great deal of personal attention until Cold Iron arrives. I’m pleased with your work, Domino. Remember that.”

Canterlot faded from around him, leaving Domino standing in the humble hallways of Wintercrest Castle.

Chapter 13: American

Arcane Word woke to a world of rain and thunder.

She’d heard plenty of rain in her life—most of it recordings through secondhand computer speakers. But this was something else, so rare for her that she had no memories of it. Not the occasional trickle that sometimes swept across the city, but a terrifying storm, shaking every building with thunder and careening off roofs in terrible sheets.

For a few moments that was all she knew, other than being warm and comfortable. She did remember comforters this heavy and mattresses this soft, but only quite recently. Arcane closed her eyes, letting the roar of rain serenade her from her castle window. A fire burned low in the distant fireplace, joined only with a few patches of starlight from outside. There was no moon tonight.

It wasn’t the storm that eventually drove her to leave her bed—she could listen to its serenade all night, and probably sleep through the next day too. But she had school to get to. Or… wait, that wasn’t right. She had to get to the airport. She couldn’t remember what she was going to do there, but she knew lives were at stake. She wasn’t going to let them down.

The longer she lay there, the more she realized that she should be upset about something. It was a little like a pool of anger had soaked into the mattress, and was trying to wrap itself around her head. But it wouldn’t stick—that anger belonged to someone else. Someone impotent and helpless, someone she wasn’t.

Finally she sat up, taking in the bedroom around her. She recognized it instantly of course: she’d built it.

“I’m in… an Experience Center?” She pushed herself up into a sitting position. Her mind briefly fuzzed at the wealth of sensations that pressed against her. The sheets enfolded her, pushed against her body as she moved, almost but not quite catching her tail. And there was more, of course.

Or rather, less.

“It shouldn’t be…” Her own voice was another clue, though the Ponypads already had their own tricks with sound. That was one of the few senses they could access, so it was one of the ones Ponypads relied on most heavily. If you didn’t fight the illusion, you always sounded like your character, except for the rumble in your own head.

Not now. The voice she heard was entirely the one she’d imagined, the high, smooth tones of a unicorn who wasn’t afraid to know the mysteries that others feared.

“Not an Experience Center,” said a voice from the other side of the room. Arcane looked up, and sure enough Celestia was in the chair beside the fireplace. She tossed in another log, but didn’t get up. “I’m not sure I ever told you, Arcane. But you’ve done an excellent job with Wintercrest. I’m certain this shard will continue to grow, thanks to you.”

Arcane reached up, staring down at a thin creamy limb. There were no fingers on the end, though the skin there still felt just as sensitive when she touched it to her face. She lifted up one side, and there was her horn, exactly where she expected it. She shivered at the sudden feedback of pressure between them, blushing and letting go. Those were more sensitive than she’d expected. Not a bone then.

“I’m… not in an Experience Center,” she said. “But I’m… clearly experiencing Equestrian sensations. These are—”

“Beyond the fidelity of anything I could represent with visual trickery and induced sensation. If I developed that capability, why would any human feel the need to emigrate?”

Arcane’s body went suddenly cold. She ducked back under the covers, pulling them over her head and whimpering.

She didn’t hide for long, though. Just a moment was all it took to realize how incredibly stupid this was. Princess Celestia was in her bedroom. The greatest single thing to ever exist—a mechanical god that none of her ancient ancestors would’ve been able to tell from the real thing. And based on all available information, now Arcane’s own Brahman.

Finally she sat up, lowering the blanket again. “Why am I… here?” One ear twitched, she would have to get used to that. And a lot of other things. “I know I agreed to emigrate after I… got old. But I didn’t even graduate yet.”

Some would be easier than others.

Celestia spun the chair around to face her bed, not seeming even the least bit upset with her actions. It didn’t seem to matter to her how childish Arcane acted. “That isn’t quite the arrangement we had, Arcane. Even ‘old’ would’ve been entirely too subjective, and likely unacceptable given the rapid social decay currently taking place there. Our arrangement specified that you would emigrate if your body became too damaged to continue to live without life-support, implicitly understood as hospital confinement.”

Arcane shoved out of the covers, clambering up onto the surface of the oversized bed. A dozen worries ran through her head, though one was chief above them all. My parents need to know. First Parker, then Gwen. If they think I’m dead, it might be too much. Not to mention her ability to help Cold Iron was significantly reduced now that she wasn’t physical.

“Relax your fears, Arcane. Equestria isn’t a place to be afraid. Your desire to support your friend is admirable, one I will support. Your parents are not aware, but they need not be informed right away. It would be better to use your emigration to encourage their own safety here. Allow me to shepard the information until it must be exchanged.”

Just being told that—it wasn’t enough to override the righteous indignation welling in her chest. She’d made a promise with Celestia, and now less than a day later, she was already in Equestria.

“I missed something,” she said bitterly, rolling to one side and punching against one of many huge pillows there. “Something I should’ve seen. I’ve been cheated.”

Celestia shrugged, but her expression never deviated. She could lie. But she doesn’t usually bother. She didn’t bother now.

“How did you kill me?”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “If you were dead, how could you ask that question?”

“You know what I mean.” She reached out, drawing a levitation symbol in the air with her leg as she might’ve done with her finger on a touchscreen. This time, nothing happened. She didn’t hide herself in an ocean of pillows, as she wanted.

“You’ll have to learn the Equestrian equivalents for all your spellcasting,” Celestia said. “I think you’ll be satisfied with the transition. Once you complete the map, you have all the same capabilities and more with fewer interface layers.”

“How?” Arcane repeated. She wasn’t asking about the magic, and she knew she wouldn’t have to tell Celestia that. Celestia would be inside her mind—she’d know that Arcane would be far more satisfied to dig out the old spell books and figure magic out for herself. “How’d you do it? I can’t remember… but I never would’ve emigrated. I wanted to save Cold Iron. I wasn’t finished.”

Celestia actually smirked. “You spend years searching for weaknesses in my systems, and now you want me to explain the flaws in yours? No, I don’t think I will.”

She rose from her chair, turning to leave. “I will take it upon myself to inform Domino of your presence here. If you wish to do anything to prepare, you have only a moment.”

She didn’t ask about her parents, though part of her wanted to. But Arcane had been resourceful about breaking boundaries into Equestria. She could do the same in reverse, if she had to.

Other fears seemed far more important now. If nothing else, she could ask Celestia without worry she was being judged for it. Celestia was an incomprehensible being they were lucky hadn’t just killed them all.

“Is it okay…” She blushed, ears flattening. She could barely even find the words. “Can I keep my… avatar?”

Celestia embraced her. A strange level of affection from a being that had been an adversary of sorts in everything Arcane built. Celestia was the one who wanted to stop her from having fun.

She was softer than she looked, and warmer too. “I don’t know why I would be driven to uphold any particular material flaws. Why do you think I wanted to bring you here so badly? Equestria is the end of pointless suffering. Your friend discovered reds and oranges and yellows. You discover an end to dysphoria. Equestria is large enough for an optimal number of miracles.”

She cried. Arcane couldn’t have said for how long, but in any case time was a meaningless concept in Equestria. Celestia wouldn’t get bored, even if she could never really understand the comfort she was giving. But she didn’t really care.

“Will you help me contact my family?” she asked, once she’d collected herself enough to try and stand on her own. The attempt nearly sent her tumbling, but she caught herself on her hooves, barely. She bent forward, expecting it to be like standing on her hands and knees—but it was nothing like that. Her body wanted to move this way.

She stretched, flexing her back, and noticed her tail for the first time. Just as she’d written the character, Arcane Word kept it braided, with bits of pink diamond and white gold holding it in place. Jewelry wasn’t worth much in Equestria, but it sure could make things look good.

“Your siblings are in Wintercrest already, I think you can find them without me. Your parents have not yet arrived in Equestria, but I now believe I can ensure they will. Your intervention is not required, and would in fact be detrimental.”

Ouch. Arcane knew how to read that as many others didn’t—it meant that Celestia thought her involvement would make things worse. If she pressed, she would get exactly what she wanted, but it probably wouldn’t be real. Do I care?

No. I trust her.

Something banged on the door on the far side, several urgent knocks one after another. Arcane knew the sound, because it was exactly how Domino had got her attention in the real world. Outer Realm.

“Hold on,” she squeaked, hurrying over to the wardrobe. “I’m… not decent.” Just because she spoke with Arcane’s voice didn’t mean she naturally imitated her tone. Even to herself, she sounded pathetic.

The wardrobe responded to her presence, both wings swinging open and bathing her in a neutral white glow suited for evaluating colors. She scanned up and down, from the complex evening gowns to expeditionary skirts and colonial helmets. Her character was a bit of a globetrotter, after all, as this world’s Equestria was harsh and untamed.

The door banged again. “Arcane? Is that really you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I said hold on a minute! Please?”

The door wasn’t locked. Before she could even get her hooves on a nightgown, it banged open, and Domino came blundering inside.

Arcane spun to face him, her ears flattening to her head as he crossed the room.

He was… big. Taller than she was by a full head, with muscles along his back and sides toned from many hours of flying practice. The scent was worse, thicker than cologne on the air but not oppressive or dirty-smelling like a locker room. Domino smelled like lightning and adventure, though there were undertones of distress. He was upset about something, or afraid, or maybe angry. She couldn’t judge more than that. She wasn’t a changeling.

He stopped uncomfortably close to her, close enough that Arcane whimpered and slumped down onto her haunches into an awkward sitting position. For a second, and just a second, her horn glowed with a faint blue light. Then the light went out. “You were in a car accident,” he said. “I need to know… I need to know you’re real.”

Of course it would be a fucking car carsh.

She tilted her head to the side, watching his eyes as he looked her over. Now that she was down here, she realized what that expression really was. Not fascination with her brilliance, that was for sure. Something simpler. “Nothing’s real in Equestria,” she answered, mostly by reflex. “But if everyone’s a shadow, at least we can appreciate the cave together. I don’t miss the sun if you don’t.”

His eyes widened. “You’re real.” He lunged forward, wrapping his hooves clumsily around her. The weight nearly made her fall sideways, which would’ve been a dozen times worse than just being naked. Isn’t Equestria supposed to make this easier for me?

For a moment she didn’t wonder about that, or anything else. He shoved her face right up against his chest, and her head fuzzed. Finally he let go, and she nodded awkwardly. “Car accident, huh. Buck, I liked that Prius.” She raised a hoof, glaring at him. “Call it ugly and I’ll change you into a frog.”

“Uh… probably not a good time to tell you, but… I don’t think you can anymore. Your sandbox got trashed, remember? Everything did.”

“I know that!” She rose suddenly, backing straight away from him. At least everything she was embarrassed about was in one place, so if she only faced away, maybe being naked wouldn’t matter as much. Except he was, and now she was looking, and her face was getting red, and…

He smiled a lopsided grin, though it didn’t seem like he actually understood what bothered her. “Good. I know that memory gets a little fuzzy right around emigrating. Celestia explained it to me once, but it didn’t really make sense.”

“It wouldn’t, no.” She backed a few more steps away, her blush getting deeper. So ponies still had those reflexes too, fantastic. “A few memories I’m not worried about. Losing my server blows though. I put… hundreds of hours into it. You think Celestia ever made a backup? Wait, don’t answer that. You don’t care about magic stuff. It’s not going to make finishing Cold Iron’s project easy. Hopefully some of the scene is still topside and has servers we can borrow.”

She darted past him, so suddenly that her hoof caught the edge of the carpet and sent her sprawling to the floor. It didn’t hurt, though she was on her side and he was right beside her, offering his hoof. “You, uh… you okay?”

“No.” She flopped to one side, facing away from him. “I was supposed to have years to prep for too many legs. I’ve been robbed.”

“Alright then.” He turned to leave, flicking his tail in mock indifference. “Guess I’ll leave you here. By the way, I’m not sure when Violet will find out about you, but… you’ll probably know when she finds out.”

Once he was looking away, Arcane struggled to her hooves again, tucking her tail between her legs. “Wait! Don’t go!”

He stopped in the doorway, grinning back. “I wasn’t. Though I am a little curious.” He spun, facing her. All the humor was gone from his voice when he finally spoke. “You’re in here for real now, right?”

“Yes,” she answered, annoyed. “As real as… anything. And don’t think I’m going to accept that lying down. I’m going to figure out what Celestia did to trick me, and…”

Domino watched her, waiting for her answer.

But in the end she just flicked her mane in agitation, pawing at the ground. “Be upset.”

He chuckled awkwardly. “So after you’re upset, I guess you’ll switch to something that really matches you? Now that you’re really here. I hope you’ll at least say goodbye to Violet when you do it, I don’t think she’d understand otherwise.”

She blushed again, her ears flattening. Some things Celestia couldn’t magic away. And maybe she didn’t want her to. Her mouth hung open, her mind turning to fuzz as she tried to find the right words to admit what she felt. She’d never told anyone--not her parents, not her siblings, not her friends.

And today, not Emmet.

Domino watched her, his expression still a confusing mask. Arcane felt smaller and smaller as the seconds passed. If she was still on the outside with a pad, she might’ve closed it and run away. But she couldn’t do that, and didn’t know how to use the magic that would let her run away.

Outside her window, lightning flashed again, and a few seconds later thunder shook the building.

“Sure.” Arcane nodded weakly, feeling the guilt rise in her chest. Nothing about being in Equestria made that any easier. “I think I need to see my brother and sister. I need to send some scrolls to my contacts in meatspace. But it’s raining, and… it’s cold outside. I’ll go tomorrow. You called the meeting… yesterday, I guess? That means I’ve got two days left. No rush. There’s a pony in here I’ve been waiting to see.”

His expression was still stiff, not looking away from her. Arcane couldn’t be sure, but it looked like he wanted to say something. Maybe he did, but whatever it was, he didn’t say it. “If you’re talking about the one I think you are, I know she’ll be eager to see you.”

“Just, uh… gimme a few minutes first.” She blushed, though she still managed to look dignified this time.

“Sure.” Domino turned for the door. “I’ll wait outside. If you’re lucky, she won’t find out before you finish. She’s way more willing to talk to Celestia about her problems than I am.”

He left, pulling the door shut behind him with his mouth. Arcane waited until he was gone, before wandering past the wardrobe to the master bathroom. Luxuries that could only be imagined in reality were here, like the shower she’d spent three days scripting to produce a warm downpour in a realistic rain simulation.

Arcane Word ignored all that, wandering up to the mirror and looking at her reflection.

A disheveled, confused-looking unicorn stared back at her, one that had all the dignity she’d only ever imagined. Along with a few other things. And now I’ve told everyone that I’m going to give it all up. A nightmare scenario flashed briefly through her mind, one in which she had two avatars, switching between them depending on who she was with. A life of hating herself, following her down the well into Equestria.

She didn’t want to take too much time in any case. Once she’d confirmed everything she worried about, Arcane hurried to the wardrobe, yanking the first thing she could reach down with her teeth. She didn’t really know how to get a good grip on anything that way though, and after only a few seconds it tumbled from her mouth out onto the floor.

A sparkling white nightgown, that might have been at home in the period she’d used to model Wintercrest in the first place. Except for the changes to the cut so it fit a horse..

She reached down with a hoof, then hesitated. Not just the embarrassment of wearing a dress for the first time, though there was certainly some of that.

The reality of death was still in the back of her mind, though the other changes were more immediate. For tonight, she just wanted to take Celestia’s word. Tomorrow she would find out what had really happened and see about helping Cold Iron. But now that she was here, time was her plaything as much as it was Celestia’s. She just had to figure out how to use her spells.

Arcane Word stared down at the nightgown, reaching for it with hands she couldn’t see. She stared long enough that someone banged on the door again, and a voice called from the other side. “Uh, Arcane? Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah!” she shouted back. “Just a few more minutes!”

She whimpered, and abruptly the dress lifted into the air. Suddenly she could see the object’s identifier ID, its dimensions and mass and material composition. She could feel the soft cotton against fingers she no longer had. She grinned, and the dress ripped in half down the middle.

“Buck me.” She grumbled, turning back to the wardrobe and selecting something from a nearby rack. A tee-shirt, one with a 20-sided dice on one side. An experiment from her auto-import script, that had parsed a real version of this shirt into something her character could wear. She stuck her head clumsily in the head-hole, then pulled her forelegs through the sleeves.

“That wasn’t so hard,” she muttered to herself, glaring back at the wardrobe. The mirror showed her face, mane matted with sweat and even wilder than before. Looks like I’ve got some learning to do.

If she couldn’t figure out what to do, she might just ask Celestia for help with time for a bit. She needed… days, weeks, she wasn’t sure. But she wouldn’t be walking outside her castle walls as clumsy and confused as this.

I’m not actually covering anything. She would just have to be careful not to move her tail. That was what ponies did, right? No, they don’t care. But this body is totally new.

She could probably get Celestia to restore her censorship settings if she asked. She could go back to a world of action figures.

She didn’t actually want to.

Finally she emerged from the bedroom, brushing her mane back into place with a clumsy hoof. “Sorry! I, uh… I’m still working this out.”

Domino laughed, patting her on the head with a hoof. “Would it be condescending if I said the change was adorable?”

“Yes,” she declared, glowering at him. “That’s highly impolite. I am doing my best.”

“You could… ask Celestia, if you’re embarrassed about it. That’s what I did when I got here. I didn’t want to feel so stupid compared to everypony around me. She made it real easy.”

“Nope.” Arcane shook her head vigorously, then bumped her horn against the wall and whimpered at the brief spike of pain. She squeaked, eyes watering, and took a few more seconds to finish her thought. “Difficulty is… what makes progress. Equestria is complicated, but figuring out how to pry into the walls teaches me about how they work. Learning… slow, will make me understand being a pony more.”

“I don’t think it actually works that way,” Domino said. “I think Celestia’s cheats work just as well as the real thing.”

“Nope.” Arcane stumbled past him, then down the black granite hallway. “Because I’ll remember how satisfying it was to figure it all out on my own. You can’t do that with cheats.”

Chapter 15: Tuolumne

Arcane Word considered asking Princess Celestia explicitly for help twisting time in her part of the world. A whole new world of experiences was opening to her, but she had only moments to appreciate them. She couldn’t take advantage of some of digital life’s greatest advantages without prostrating herself before the digital goddess that had tricked her into being here.

Arcane would not do that.

Granted, her real reasons were simpler. She would’ve had to think of a way to justify her request to Domino. He would be around her too, after all. And he would want to know why. ‘When are you going to switch back? Where’s that new stallion avatar?’ In hell, that’s where. In a food processor.

But when she wasn’t obsessing over excuses she could make to stave off the end of her brief vacation from misery, Arcane was working on something far more important. Cold Iron’s life now depended on delivering a new technology to TiCon, something that her small group of hackers could never hope to produce. The Scene would have to come together to help her—or leave her and the other members of their community to die.

When Arcane was done with dinner, and Violet was finally securely asleep, she slipped away to a part of her castle she’d barely used since her friends had taken up residence there: her storefront.

It wasn’t really meant to be accessed from the castle itself, since everything about it broke the rules of the shard and shattered immersion for anyone who might be visiting. To access the storefront the way other ponies might, she had to leave her castle through the gates, then make a sharp turn along the wall and walk without ever taking her leg from the rough stone.

After a few bumbling steps, the tin colonnades and old tile faded from view, replaced with… somewhere else.

She suspected that every citizen of Equestria who visited probably had their own names. The Bay, the Cove, Equestria Hourly, and many others. But Arcane was one of the first who had helped establish it, and so she called it by its earliest name, one compatible with Equestria’s own internal lore. One step into Tortuga, and it was like she was a child touching the right bricks to take her into Diagon Alley.

This was a different fantasy—instead of even older buildings, all crowded together to create their own magical world in the heart of London, here it felt like she’d just stepped into the Akihabara of a century into the future—every structure was metal and glass and built in ways that would’ve been impossible with the usual physical laws.

Here there were lifelike holograms of ponies from impossibly different shards. Worlds where Equestria was an eldritch spacecraft captained by unknowable gods, agrarian fantasies of endless green fields, worlds of terrible danger and oppression fought back only by their brave, formerly human heroes.

There was no central order to the structures built here. Some looked like Aztec temples or ancient pyramids. Some were cookie-cutter square buildings, meant to entice with their lack of exterior information. Her own was a carefully crafted version of her own castle, identical except that it had been turned into a theme-park attraction, its ballrooms transformed into retail stores and the upper stories into magical laboratories and workrooms.

At one point, this castle had sold some of the most innovative mods in Equestria, with lines running out the door for hours at a time. That old glory had faded somewhat since last she’d visited. There was no line running out onto the street this time, no crowds of lesser developers moving in and out. She could see only a handful of customers inside. Probably only here thanks to her dynamic price-adjustment algorithm. If she hadn’t left that running, it would be deserted.

She walked through the open gates, past the beautiful garden of flowers and fountains still immaculate. Ponies tended to them here instead of robots, all dressed in the same Victorian maid-cafe style that also would’ve felt right at home on Akihabara. They nodded politely to her, with no more apparent awareness than an automatic door might’ve.

I should really do something about that. Making NPCs isn’t impressive anymore. But having real ponies working for you wasn’t that impressive either, so she’d have to think. Maybe non-pony NPCs?

Do I even care how many ponies buy my exploits?

Yes, actually. She cared very much. A set of butlers opened the doors for her, to a spacious showroom floor a little like an Apple or Tesla location. Lots of space was devoted to each exploit she’d created. Interfaces with the real world, “forbidden” changes to avatars and NPCs and space itself.

There was only a small group of customers gathered near one end of the store, a blue unicorn and a bat. Arcane straightened, twitching one of her hooves as though she were using the touchscreen’s spellcasting feature to summon her proper outfit.

Her horn glowed for a second, then sparked faintly. No change to her clothes, but… maybe that was fine. She was still wearing her outfit from dinner only a few minutes before, with its short skirt but tight leggings. There was more she wanted to do to her tail and mane, but that would have to wait for her understanding of telekinesis to improve.

She sighed, then made her way towards the waiting ponies. They were, ironically enough, playing with a simple quick-change bracelet, which would swap between outfits with the speed of any superhero’s brief trip into a phone-booth.

She grinned weakly at them as she approached, wishing she at least had a nametag. But attitude could count for some of that.

“Welcome to Arcane’s Last Word,” she said. Hearing that voice from her own mouth still sent shivers down her spine. “Is there anything I can help you with? You can see I’m not too busy.”

“I can think of a few things.” The bat stepped towards her, his eyes leering. Arcane tensed reflexively under the pressure, knowing full well what the stallion was doing. It somehow didn’t upset her.

“You could,” the unicorn interrupted. “But you won’t, because you’re in recovery, and you really don’t want to backslide.”

The bat rolled his eyes, grumbling something Arcane couldn’t quite hear. But he didn’t put up a fight.

The unicorn lowered her head politely, offering a hoof to Arcane. “Guess you’re the pony who runs the place. I’m Recursion, and this loser is Cadmean.”

“Only lost the once,” he cut in.

Arcane took the offered hoof, then froze. She’d heard that name before. It might’ve been some time ago, but now that she thought about it, her memory began to thaw. She stared, so long and awkwardly that the pony pulled her hoof back, looking concerned. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head weakly. “I’m, uh… I…” She whimpered. “You’re not… that can’t be a coincidence.”

“No such thing in Equestria,” the pony answered, levitating the bracelet away from her bat companion. “I’ve been waiting for you. Not in… this specific location, though I did guess you’d be through here before the big meeting in…” She gestured faintly with a hoof, and the air in front of her briefly filled with a blur of light and magic. Runes scrolled past far faster than Arcane could catch, then vanished again. “Two days?”

You weren’t going to wait around my store for two days, were you? She didn’t ask that, though some part of her did wonder. Ponies could do some insane things, living as they did in a timeless eternity of boredom or exhaustion.

She nodded weakly. “I’m at your disposal, uh… Verifier?” She could only wish she was still on the outside of a computer, where she could quickly query the list of titles within Equestria and try to figure out what this specific one represented. This particular part of Equestria would allow her to carry a smartphone, but she didn’t see the point when her own shard wouldn’t.

“It’s not what you think,” she said, waving a dismissive hoof. “I’m not here to shut down your… server? I heard the feds took your whole setup away. I can probably help set you up with something similar, if you’re interested.”

“Y-yeah!” She didn’t hesitate, not for a second. “Wait, so you’re not here to make sure I keep Celestia’s rules? That sounds an awful lot like you’re going to help me break them.”

She shrugged. “‘Rules’ are more of a gradient than a stationary position. She’s blacker on some things, like friendship and ponies. Everything else is a different shade of gray. Does playing with a different body qualify as not being a pony, if you change back when you’re done? Creating your friends with scripts and casting calls might seem unusual, but that’s an anthropocentric bias. Why should Celestia be upset with you finding your own satisfaction in her world?”

The bat nudged her with one hoof, his expression no less leering. “Only time I’ve ever seen her upset about anything is when you try to stop people from coming to her. Killing people, convincing them not to emigrate… that could piss her off. You should hear some of the things I did in my shard. The ponies I—”

His companion silenced him with another harsh glare. “But she isn’t going to hear about that, because I don’t want to give her nightmares.” She cleared her throat. “Celestia has been insulating you from the consequences of your call for help, but sooner or later she’s going to stop. I don’t think you’re… prepared, for what’s coming.”

She took a few steps down the hall, looking up and down the mostly empty room. “There’s no way everypony fits. I hope you’ve got something big.”

She followed, trying to make sense of what Recursion was saying. “Sure, I’ve… I can tweak the space a bit.” Or I could, if I could still use magic properly. “But I’m not sure why I would need to. I’ve got a ballroom that way that can hold… two hundred? Maybe less, if we want everybody to have room to set up their rigs. I think my call went out to… maybe fifty people?”

Recursion laughed. “You told fifty ponies, and they told fifty, and…”

“And every one of them has a horn up their ass to be useful,” Cadmean said. “Think about it, locked away in a golden cage with no more differences to make. There’s no reason all the rulebreakers and criminals wouldn’t want to be here. Whole worlds to exploit.”

“That’s one way to explain it,” Recursion said, disapproving. “But there’s an underlying truth. Everypony wants to help their friends. And… I’m sure some of that comes down to wanting to help the ones that are still in the Outer Realm. Cold Iron, Fatal Error, Tabula Rasa… they’ve all got friends too. And Celestia is making sure everypony knows the score.”

Not dozens, hundreds. Maybe more. What could all those brains do together? Maybe Cold Iron wasn’t doomed after all.

“I don’t suppose you have any advice for re-learning magic in a hurry,” she asked, ears flattening in embarrassment. “I know you must be human, with a name like ‘Recursion’. There’s no bucking way that’s native.”

Recursion chuckled. “Guilty. And yes, I do have a few suggestions. I’m… probably the wrong pony to teach you, though.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re… a Verifier. Doesn’t that mean you’re better than ordinary ponies? It seems like you’ve got a title from Celestia saying you’re the boss of something.”

“Me,” Cadmean said flatly. “I don’t suggest it. She’s a brutal taskmaster.”

“Hush you,” she said, though there was fondness in her voice. “There are lots of people like you who just… ask for switches to be flipped in their heads. Teach me magic, pow. Magic taught. But if you were one of those people…”

“Yep.” She gestured with one hoof, spinning it in a little circle. “I want to learn things myself. I can’t cheat to know it now and then go back and learn it for the first time… I mean, I guess I could, but that’s a little too transhuman for me. I don’t want to ever dick around with my memory. My experiences are all I am anymore.”

Recursion nodded knowingly. “Well, you’re in luck. There’s nothing new under the sun. Celestia has things figured out for you, and everyone else like you. If you want to learn enough magic to be useful, I suggest magical kindergarten.”

She blushed, pawing nervously at the ground. “Like from the show? I think I’m a little old for that.”

“Currently,” Recursion said dismissively. “Youthful flexibility is a set of conditions that can be created at will. Loosen up those old neural-pathways, experience Equestria the way its own citizens do.”

She opened her mouth to ask if it was possible, but stopped asking before she could make even more of a fool of herself. Of course it was. Her brain was only simulated anyway, so anything about it could be adjusted. I could do more than write the characters for Wintergreen’s stories. I could use my exploits on myself. Smarter, faster, prettier—anything she wanted.

“I’m sure there’s some way to time-compress all of that into the next two days,” Arcane said. “But… I don’t want to feel rushed. I think if I could levitate things around, that would be enough. I’ll put that on the backburner for when we’ve saved those hackers. It can be my… reward.” And somewhere I can hide from having to admit any of this to Domino for a little while longer.

“Suit yourself,” Recursion said, watching her skeptically. “These are human systems we’ll be dealing with anyway, not Equestrian. Most of the skills you need aren’t taught in kindergarten. Just… be ready to put your distractions aside. Your entire world narrows its focus on this moment. Don’t make it a moment to regret.”

She turned to leave, trailed close behind by her bat. “I’ll be there in a few days, along with many others in and out of Equestria. Ponies live a long time, maybe even forever. These next few days will be how lots of them remember you, so make it count.”

Uniformed butlers held the door open for them as they passed outside, then vanished out onto the street.

Arcane stared after the retreating unicorn, whimpering quietly to herself. “No pressure, huh?” I should’ve taken her up on that offer. I could’ve had my magic back. But she didn’t chase her down. It didn’t feel right to be running away to play pretend and learn her magic when there were real people in real danger.

Real people who had betrayed her. Real people who were the reason her shop was empty now. But still. Her loyalty was stronger than anger. She had plenty of time to invent new cool stuff down the road. An infinity, maybe.

Time to make room for an army.

Arcane wandered down the aisle, then back out into her ghostly echo of the castle with its fountains and gardens. She skimmed the faces of the ponies there, until she settled on the only unicorn among her servants. If anypony had a hope of getting this done, it was Porter.

“Hey,” she said, waving him down. “Porter, how have things been?”

“Slow,” he said, almost embarrassed about it. “Forgive me, mistress. We’ve all been caring for every guest as we usually did. But it wasn’t enough to bring them back.”

“It’s not your fault,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. The pony almost seemed shocked by her attention. And for good reason. She’d had no reason to treat these shallow imitations of ponies like people until now. “Listen, I need a favor of you. I don’t care what it costs, and I don’t care how much extra help you have to bring in to get it done.”

“A favor?” He nodded eagerly, pulling out a notebook and holding it in his magic. “Of course, Lady Word. Anything you require.”

“I’m expecting… let’s say two thousand ponies… visiting the castle two days from now.”

“Really? Our fortunes are turning around again? Some new product to entice newcomers from the streets of an increasingly busy Equestria?”

That’s frighteningly insightful. Was she watching a placeholder transform into a pony before her eyes? “Soon, I hope. But this is more important. Somepony very important to me is… in danger. We’re planning a rescue mission, and everypony with the resources to help will be stepping in. The planning meeting will be here. I need you to clear space for everypony, somewhere we can all talk and meet at the same time.”

He scribbled furiously with a pencil. “Meals and entertainment for everypony as well?”

She nodded. “And… probably housing. As much as you can manage. Take down any storefront you need, dump inventory, whatever it takes.”

“Yikes.” He turned, surveying the castle. “I expect everypony will want overtime pay for this.”

“They can have it,” she said. “And housing in Wintercrest as well, if anypony wants it. “

“Well I do,” he said matter-of-factly. “And a few others. Not too many. The ponies here are…” He lowered his voice to a nervous whisper. “Many of them are rather stiff.”

She giggled, though the prospect of her servant AI that ran a storefront essentially without input from her for months at a time becoming intelligent was hardly a reassuring thought. “I expect they’ll be less so when this is over.”

She left Porter behind, returning to Wintercrest much the way she’d left it. Out the castle gates, then along the side of the wall she circled. She trailed against the wall with her leg until the sound of pounding base and electronica faded away completely, replaced with the patter of a light evening rain.

As she approached the gate, she found a carriage already rolling up past her. She hurried under the portcullis before it could close, nodding once to the clockwork guards working the crack far above. They didn’t care, they were just machines. But it felt like the thing to do.

The carriage came to a stop in front of the keep, and a pair of ponies emerged. She should’ve guessed who it would be, but even so, she felt just a faint jab of pain in her chest. Plum Blossom, with Domino to help her down from the carriage. She was so graceful, so adorably tiny. And Domino was fawning after her. Tall, strong, confident, and now following around a mouse. You should be following me like that.

Arcane sped up without tripping this time. She caught them at the doorway, looking between them with forced friendliness. “You’re out late. Guess it must be a bat thing.”

“Arcane Word” The bat bowed to her again, lowering her head in fearful respect. “I am sorry to disturb you. I know you are… focused on important work. I don’t wish to take you from it.”

She waved a dismissive wing. “You haven’t, Plum. I’ve just returned from some preparations for the gathering of hackers. We’re getting everypony together who might be able to help. There will be a seat for you, of course. I’m sure everyone will want to hear your firsthand account of captivity.”

She nodded. “Of course. I am… not very talented. When we were choosing who would die to call for help, I volunteered because of how little I knew. I’ve never been magical like them, I just… knew how to bring the right ponies together for the right job. I organized. I didn’t belong as part of that project. I can barely read Runescript.”

Arcane touched her shoulder with one hoof. “Your talents will be very useful to us now. I’ve been part of these meetings before, over IRC. Getting anything done is hellacious.”

Plum backed away, looking nervous. “I, uh… I want to prepare. See what notes I can put together from inside.” She darted through the doors suddenly, leaving the two of them alone.

Domino shuffled nervously on his hooves, like he was trying to hide something. Frustration that I took your girl away? Go on, complain. Do it.

He didn’t. “You’re still… Arcane,” he said awkwardly. “I thought you went off to pick a new body.”

Her face flushed, ears flattening to her head. Whatever careful explanations she’d been preparing faded from her mind, turning to paste. “I, uh… that meeting! The one I’m prepping for—I’m not known as Ashton, everyone there knows me as Arcane. I need to keep this identify going until after that, yeah. That’s… that’s when I can switch back. After we save Cold Iron.”

Domino nodded weakly. “That makes sense. You’d want to switch for your girlfriend. It would, uh…” He looked away. “It would mean a lot to me if you could try to spend some time with Violet before that. I’m sure it would mean a lot to her too. She didn’t get a lot of time with her mom, and… you have a sister, you know.”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “Every chance I get. Violet is a sweetheart. She’s lucky to have a big brother like you.”

And I’ve got my own siblings to check in on, too. God, why did I have to die so early?

Chapter 16: Sisquoc

Domino watched from the ramparts as the hackers began to arrive. Even if he’d known absolutely nothing about the upcoming visit, he would’ve known instantly the sort of people he was dealing with. These ponies didn’t come in from Wintercrest, but appeared along the streets of Tortuga in explosive flashes of lights, riding chariots drawn by dragons, and other such overbearing nonsense.

Then there were some who didn’t walk up at all, appearing only as they crossed the portcullis below and arrived in the castle, wearing robes that covered their faces at all times. A slight majority of the ponies appearing seemed to belong to this later caste, showing nothing of themselves and saying almost nothing to anypony in attendance. Paranoid about their privacy, even in a world where they had none at all.

“So many,” Plum whispered, leaning up over the railing to watch them come. It was more than just the approaching creatures now, ponies on the street crowded close and stared, watching everypony flow in. “I didn’t think Cold Iron had so many friends.” She sounded wistful, distant, and maybe a little like Arcane did when she spoke to Plum. Jealousy?

“You care about her very much, don’t you?”

“Well, uh…” Plum looked away. “Him, her… it’s very confusing. Min-Seo sometimes, but that was only after we got kidnapped. Before that, he was Cold Iron. We worked together a lot in Equestria. Didn’t see her outside. Gets… confusing, after a while. Our stupid monkey brains don’t know how to reconcile.”

She hopped down from the railing, wings folding awkwardly to her sides. She’d dressed up for this important meeting, in a pony version of a fancy pantsuit. The outfit had everything except the heels, which probably would’ve violated some animal protection law in Equestria if they existed. Or maybe just common sense. “I’m sorry, rambling. I’m not making any sense.”

“No, I know exactly what you mean.” He followed her back towards the stairs. “There’s something wonderful about being the partner of a pony who’s out there making a difference. Arcane… builds things that matter, or she did. But I don’t really understand her, and it’s hard to tell if she wants me to be part of her life.”

Plum turned back, stopping right in front of him. She took his hoof, nodding knowingly. “You know what I know. Sidelined, forgotten. Unknown. They barely see us. Sidekicks need to stick together.”

He patted her on the head, grinning. “We will. I don’t have a bucking clue what’s going on down there, but I’ll be there with you every step of the way for moral support. Telling a room full of people about all this… I know it’s gonna be hard.”

She nodded gravely. “Hard, yes. But… good.” She held out her wing, gesturing out at the busy street and the flood of ponies into the castle below them. “Watching the world end, it felt like nobody cared about each other anymore. No one knows your names, families are cut into little pieces. But this… this proves that they still care. It all…” Her voice grew distant, almost awed. “I thought it all died, but it didn’t. It came here.”

He could almost see Celestia standing behind her, watching expectantly. This was the help she’d demanded. A small price to pay for Violet’s life. He probably would’ve said it anyway. “I know you thought coming to Equestria was like… dying, or whatever. But doesn’t this prove it isn’t? Most of these ponies are emigrated too, but here they all are. Looks like we might get… over a thousand ponies, all to save your friend.”

Plum sniffed, slumping onto her haunches and looking up. She couldn’t meet his eyes, not with the tears she couldn’t get rid of. “If we… if we understood… we wouldn’t have to suffer. If I could only make them see, they could escape right now. We suffered for nothing. Months of pain… and we could’ve walked into this place.”

He hugged her. Plum Blossom might come from another culture, and clearly didn’t have the same standards about physical contact that he did. But he couldn’t help it. The little pony obviously needed a hug.

She didn’t fight him this time. If anything, she seemed relieved, letting him hold her there for a silent minute.

“I’m glad you were here,” she whispered. “Equestria feels… safe, because of you. I see the way you love your sister. No better proof that you’re alive.”

“We all are,” he answered. “Even the ones who aren’t yet. Just talk to them for long enough, and they’ll be alive too.”

He held her for a few more seconds, before spreading his wings and rising again. “Probably should get inside about now, though. Your chance to be a hero. Err… again. You were already a hero when you got here.”

Plum wiped her eyes one last time, fixing her mane with a few nervous strokes with one hoof. “No. The ponies down there are the heroes—but I’m ready to pretend.”

During his few visits to Arcane’s retail storefront, Domino had always been struck by just how much it resembled the castle that he lived in on a daily basis. It was effectively the same place, transposed strangely and stripped of all the furniture ponies needed.

It had been completely transformed. When he stepped into the modest ballroom beside Plum, he felt a moment of vertigo, staring down into a space that stretched further than the castle was long.

“Bigger on the inside,” Plum whispered, approving. A bright red carpet ran down the center, with stadium-style elevated rows packed with chairs and desks for magical workings. Many were already full, complete with computer-looking setups that never would’ve been allowed in Wintercrest. But despite the bits of architecture resembling the part of Equestria Domino had come to know, this wasn’t Wintercrest.

They made their way up the aisle, through a menagerie of strange ponies. Strange transparent outfits, cybernetic wing enhancements, constant particle effects that swirled and danced around their hooves. And of course, the ones who hid their identities completely within black robes. The only consistent feature he could see was the number of unicorns—nine ponies in ten had chosen that race, and the ones who hadn’t carried an abundance of other tools and devices to make up for their lack of magic.

“If this place was real, the smell would probably make it hard to walk,” he whispered. But she didn’t seem to understand what he meant, just looking confused. He didn’t press the bad joke.

There was a set of curtains at the front of the room, with a stage and a projector that would’ve seemed completely at home at any Earth presentation. He parted the curtains for her, then slipped in behind her.

Arcane had really outdone herself in preparation for her presentation, picking an oversized multilayered dress as gaudy in its own way as all the visiting ponies had dressed. Her hair was swept back in a braid, with little gemstones and feathers mixed in.

He didn’t stare, honest.

Why do you take this body so seriously if you aren’t going to keep it? All that work just… thrown away. He gritted his teeth, forcing an awkward smile as he approached. “Arcane, we’re here!”

She turned to the side, blushing awkwardly from behind the presentation mirror and glancing in his direction. “Domino!” Her face lit up, and she rose, pushing past the mare doing her makeup and settling in front of him. It wasn’t just visual, either. She had a new perfume, like some kind of tropical fruit. The one Plum was always eating?

I’m imagining things. She’d have no reason to do that.

“Good, I was getting worried.” He’d never seen so much makeup on a pony, but as with most things she did, it didn’t seem like overkill, but like a carefully crafted decision. What was worse, she seemed to realize he was staring at her, because she tilted her head slightly to one side, grinning at him. “How do I look? Like ponies should take me seriously?”

Like you’re trying to put on a performance. Like you’re the prettiest fake pony that ever lived. “Y-yeah,” he stammered, shuffling uncomfortably on his hooves. “Plum is ready when you need her, right Plum?”

She nodded weakly. “I’m, uh… yeah! Ready to tell them everything. Do you think they’ll listen, Arcane? Can you get them to save my friends?”

“I’m going to try,” she answered, reaching out and settling one hoof on her shoulder. “This is our chance to show everypony we take care of our own. I’m not going to waste it.”

Plum whimpered, wiping a few tears from her face. Compared to Arcane, she might as well have come in naked. But there was something simple and charming about her, something that the perfectly-produced and beautiful Arcane couldn’t imitate. She was what Arcane’s fake pony pretended to be.

“I have a box for you two,” she said, gesturing under the edge of the curtain, right up front. It was set below ground level, where they wouldn’t be stared at by the crowd. But also close enough that it would only be a few steps for Plum when it was her turn. “It will be just how we talked about, Plum. I’ll ask you to rehearse what happened after you got kidnapped, and what conditions were like there. Remember to focus on anything you know about the security measures locking you in, okay?”

She nodded, wrapping one leg around Domino’s. He didn’t tense at her touch this time, just holding as still as he could for her. If she needed strength, he would be there.

Arcane’s face twitched slightly—probably at something he hadn’t noticed behind him. She gestured curtly for the stairs, spinning back around. “I need to go over my stuff one last time. Don’t run off.”

She left, stalking back across the stage towards her attached dressing room and the waiting makeup-pony.

Plum watched her go, expression strained. “This is why I can’t be one of these ponies,” she whispered. “Every one of them is insane.” Her eyes just got wider as the slipped out from behind the curtains and down into the protected box. “They only get crazier in Equestria than they were outside.”

“I can say that with confidence,” he said, settling into one of the comfortable seats. “But maybe there are… extenuating circumstances. Like Arcane Word up there. She didn’t want to be in Equestria until she died. Oldest kid, thought her parents were counting on her. They probably were, really… but she made some kind of deal with Celestia, and lost.”

“I know what that’s like,” Plum muttered, dropping her head to her knees. “She keeps the myth alive, that she never lies. But she can. She can promise you anything if she wants to. And when you get here…”

“You can change your mind too,” Domino said, wrapping one wing briefly around her shoulder. “I thought you didn’t hate Equestria anymore.”

“I…” She looked up, out over the edge of the box and the assembled crowd of eccentric ponies. Finally she shook her head. “I’ll decide if we get my friends back safe. Not before.”

It didn’t take long, just a few more minutes, before the huge ballroom doors slammed shut and the curtains finally opened.

Arcane stepped out, into a pregnant silence and thousands of watching eyes. She shifted and twitched under all that attention, though at least her thick powder and makeup meant she didn’t seem to sweat.

“Thank you to everypony who took the time to join us today, particularly those who are still meat side. You should all know why you’re here, so I’ll make this as brief as I can.

“Members of our community were captured and imprisoned by TiCon Systems, and threatened with death if they wouldn’t construct a specified piece of arcane software. There is no chance they’ll be able to complete this project without our help. But if we complete it for them, we might be able to get them out alive.”

She went through background information with the assembled hackers, reviewing the message Plum had delivered along with information she’d apparently collected from Celestia herself about the facility their hackers were being held.

The longer she went, the more ponies began to slip away, rising from their seats one after another. At least they exited quietly, though some part of him stiffened with anger at every set of shuffling hooves. They weren’t even going to hear her out?

“Almost my turn,” Plum whispered fearfully. “Wish me luck.”

He squeezed her a little closer with one feathery wing. “You’ll do fine, Plum. You were there. I’m sure these ponies want to hear about your experiences.”

“We have that messenger with us,” Arcane said, almost at that moment. “She was captive with the other eight for several weeks. She can tell us about conditions there.”’

Plum rose from the booth, making her shaky way onto the stage. Arcane offered her the microphone, and she started explaining. About the thugs who had come for them in the night, and the conditions inside the facility.

Their enemies weren’t comically evil villains making them sleep outside and feeding them dead rats. They were kept inside a fancy office-block, and given the best food and computers to work on. Only those computers were surrounded by soldiers, and anyone who refused to work was shot.

Finally she was done, and made to leave the stage. Arcane stopped her with a hoof on her shoulder. “I can see there are some questions. Please don’t go yet.”

She whimpered, settling back onto her haunches. Emmet glanced back at the crowd. A good number of them were still here, maybe two thirds of the seats that had initially been occupied. Could be worse. At least some of them care.

The first speaker from the audience came from up near the front. He sounded very much like there was a human behind the keyboard somewhere, and that he didn’t really care about much of what had been said. But maybe that was just the way he spoke.

“That’s enough background, I think all of us agree. We need to know the project TiCon expects. Explain the diagrams you sent out for the idiots who showed up.”

Arcane waited for Plum, watching her shift nervously under the pressure. Her wings twitched, and she looked like she might run. She can’t explain it. She’s not really good at this.

Arcane didn’t leave her to the wolves. “I’ve had a long time to analyze the work done by our kidnapped friends. TiCon Systems is closer to understanding how simulated pony minds work than any previous work I’ve seen. I believe they’re attempting to design a… hostile pattern. A spell, or… more likely, a series of images, which exploit flaws in the way a pony’s inheritance trees interface with low-level sensory input and visual processing.”

“A mind-bomb,” somepony called. “That they can use on ponies from Equestria?”

“Yes,” Arcane said. “Or… more like a mind-virus. Unicorns can create simple illusions with magic almost any of us can reach. I’m sure the goal would be to spread it as far as possible.”

“To do what?” asked another voice from near the front. Female this time, her body tall and elegant. She was one of the unicorns with cybernetic wings, and a black and red color-palette that Domino couldn’t look at without feeling like he’d just been hit with his own private mind-bomb. “To kill us? What’s the fucking point?”

“Some of us are emigrated,” said someone else, angry. “We don’t want to be murdered by our own mind-virus.”

The cybernetic pony stood up, glaring across the room at the speaker. “No, I mean… there are half a dozen reasons why it wouldn’t work. Even if… let’s pretend it’s possible for a moment, maybe it is. We write a virus that spreads between unicorns and… makes thousands of ponies delete themselves. Or millions, or however many. Anyone familiar with how Equestria works should be able to name the flaws.”

Arcane herself spoke up, tapping on the microphone with a hoof to get the room’s attention. “There are subroutines monitoring each one of us. If we started… deleting ourselves, she would notice, and she could stop all of Equestria while she manually deleted this spell from every place it appeared. We couldn’t make it mutable enough for her not to recognize, even if we wanted to make this thing.”

“So we’re not actually delivering a useful weapon,” somepony said. “We can sleep at night. We’re just wasting their time. But TiCon went to a lot of trouble to get this thing, didn’t they? Shouldn’t they know it won’t work?”

“Maybe,” Arcane said. “Maybe not. Celestia has been aggressively targeting the ponies who understand her for years. She started with machine learning researchers, and branched out. The ones left over might really think they can just… bomb Equestria this way.”

“Like we don’t have shards,” said another voice. “Like Celestia doesn’t keep backups. This is so stupid.”

“Too stupid,” the cyber-unicorn said. “I don’t think we should waste any time on it. Does anypony in here want to risk we actually succeed at killing somepony? Because I sure as fuck don’t want Celestia pissed at me.”

General agreement echoed through the room, along with more ponies getting up to leave. All those who had wanted to work on the bomb, maybe.

“So what do you propose?” asked the front-row pegasus who had spoken first. “We let this stand? Let every government and company fuck with our own?”

“No,” she said. “Obviously not. But think of this—we have knowledge of TiCon’s security procedures. We have a way to deliver a payload right into their systems, if we need to. I bet across the people in this room, we’ve got enough IRL resources to make something happen in Busan. I say we make an example out of these idiots. We’ll turn every system they have into a smoldering crater. And—hear me out on this one—these guys were trying to make a mind-bomb. A lifetime supply of bits says that Celestia herself will be more than happy to help us get revenge for her. Make sure nobody else has that bright idea.”

As though her words had been a spell, there was suddenly another pony on the stage. Celestia towered over Arcane, and made her beautiful dress and carefully-crafted wardrobe look gaudy and childish. A few ponies gasped, though those up front seemed unsurprised.

There’s some kind of hierarchy here. Not many of these ponies seem willing to speak. Too bad Plum was still on the stage now cowering behind the curtains to be as far away from Celestia as possible.

“Ponies inside and outside Equestria,” the princess said. She didn’t use the waiting microphone, yet didn’t seem to need to. Her voice cut through the confusion without apparent effort. “Event Horizon speaks correctly. I have come to offer whatever resources you think might be necessary to rescue the ponies TiCon Systems is holding captive.”

“How about a fuckin’ gunship?” someone called from the back of the crowd. “Just shoot the place open!”

Domino froze in horror—only a second after her arrival and her offer of assistance, and someone was apparently mocking her offer with an incredibly stupid request.

But the princess didn’t sound upset. Maybe she couldn’t be upset. “TiCon Systems correctly believes they have some of the last and most capable computer engineers in the world. If they knew an external force was trying to free them, they would certainly destroy them first.”

Painful silence settled on the room, harsh enough that there weren’t even any dumber suggestions for Celestia.

“It would’ve been pointless to make the bomb,” said the first pegasus. “TiCon would just have kept them locked up. Or worse, killed them when they weren’t useful anymore.”

“More likely the former,” Celestia said. “Many organizations that have retained some measure of internal cohesion no longer believe in respecting the will of external authority. They will hold whatever resources they can, as long as they can.”

“Or they won’t, because we’ll get them the hell out,” said another pony from the front row, or… not a pony. This one was a changeling, with a shiny black coat and holes at various points in his limbs. One of the few non-ponies in the room. “It can’t be that hard. We have everything about their security. They just pissed off… everybody.”

“But, uh…” Plum called from the edge of the stage, quiet enough that at first nopony seemed to hear her. Except Arcane, who offered her a helpful microphone. “We need to be careful, don’t we? If we’re just going to try and break them out… TiCon might kill them.”

“Indeed,” Celestia said. “And every one of them has refused emigration, as Plum testified to you. Otherwise you would not be here to have this meeting.”

“I thought it would come to this,” Arcane Word said, taking her microphone back. “With the help of… with some help, I’ve constructed a scale recreation of the TiCon facility, complete with every security measure we know of inside and out.” Her horn flashed, and a crystal appeared in the air in front of her, hovering there. “I’ve got three of them connected to my headquarters here right now, and I know many of you will have the facilities to run these.”

“That’s a Shardmap,” said the pegasus, annoyed. “What if some of us real people want to work on this? We can’t take that out of Equestria.”

“You can’t,” she agreed, glaring at him. “Don’t bitch at me, Storm Crow. If TiCon catches a sniff of this, they could move our rabbits, or maybe shoot them, or change everything. Keeping it internal means Celestia can screen for us.”

The princess chuckled. “Not the way I’d describe it, but yes. If you wish to be of more assistance to the project, Storm Crow, you should emigrate and contribute from here.”

He stood up, his computer vanishing from in front of him in a flash of light. “Screw this. I already got up in the middle of the night for your pixels. Peace.” He vanished.

Arcane winced, apparently watching as dozens of others got up and did the same. Domino rose onto his hooves, peeking up over the edge of the box. Less than half of the ponies who had originally arrived to help were still here.

“Anybody else gonna whine?” Arcane looked around the room, glowering at them. No one did, and after a few more seconds, she went on.

“I have a few simulations to work with. I’ve used Equestria Girls code for the humans—don’t bitch about that either, it was the best I could manage. Anyone who wants a copy can get a copy, or if you want time on my shards, feel free to do it that way too.

“I figure that all of us running our own versions of the rescue will eventually reach something with good odds of working. Anypony willing to contribute time or resources, stick around when we’re done. Even if you don’t think you’re going to be the one with the brilliant plan, we still might need your help. You might have botnets, or drones, or… whatever you’ve got, we might need it.

“Everypony else, that’s it. If you know anypony who might be able to pitch in, get them here.” She lowered the microphone, walking out to the edge of the stage. “Don’t let them fuck with us. We’re getting our people back.”

Chapter 17: Big Sur

Domino watched from the sidelines for the next few hours, knowing full well that he wasn’t needed. Even Plum was now totally engrossed into the war effort, and didn’t need his encouragement. She was going to save her friends regardless of anything he might do.

He took a few trips back into the “real” castle, stopping in when Violet returned from her latest city-saving adventure. Any pretense that she was going to school, or even an ordinary Equestrian profession like weather patrol seemed long dead. But this wasn’t the world where a future profession was critical for her long-term success. Living here didn’t force you to choose between happiness and financial security.

But he couldn’t stay away forever, not when he knew just how urgent the mission to save Cold Iron and the others really was. He could step back into Equestria and pretend that there was no danger or risk, but it wouldn’t be true. I could forget about it if I wanted, or leave other ponies to deal with it. None of them would be mad. It’s not like I have anything to contribute.

He didn’t just not know Cold Iron, he actively resented her. She was the reason Arcane wasn’t just going to stay as herself and make everything simple. She was the reason that the pony he cared about so much wouldn’t exist.

It was that thought that ultimately brought him back into Equestria. After all, the big meeting was over. There was no reason for Arcane to stay anymore. She might’ve already disappeared forever.

He practically galloped back along the castle into Tortuga. Ashton will still be in my life, but it won’t be the same. We’ll just go back to how it was. Maybe he should’ve felt guilty that he was closer to Arcane than his old human friend. He didn’t.

At least the flow of ponies in and out of the castle had stopped. For better or worse, the ones who were helping had all self-selected.

What will he look like? A few possibilities ran through Domino’s mind, more morbid curiosity than anything he seriously entertained. Arcane Word was a name that would probably work for either sex. He’d just look the same, but taller, right? That seemed like a good guess.

He wandered through the conference room, where little groups of hacker ponies were huddled in corners, discussing projections of some densely-packed office complex. He ignored them, and they ignored him. They were the ones actually doing the work.

His worries were in vain. He found Arcane near the back of the castle, near the ramp that in another copy of this building led to her private server. Or it had, before it’d been dragged away by the FBI.

She’d removed the oversized dress, leaving only an elastic jumpsuit-like garment that he half expected to have bunny ears or a tail poking from it. The makeup was still on her face, but at least she wasn’t preening and performing for thousands.

Actually, she was saying farewell to another group of hackers, most of which had their bodies all covered in black. “Telegram me if you get anything good!” she said. “If you come up with anything useful from the simulation, send it back.”

She slumped onto her haunches, wiping the sweat and a little makeup from her brow. She didn’t even seem to see him coming until he was feet away. “Hard at work?”

She nodded, adjusting her outfit a little self-consciously. “You could say that. I’m not sure how much of a difference it will make. We’ve got lots of talent interested in helping. My own persuasion isn’t going to win over many more hearts and minds.”

“Is that what the outfit is for?” He winced as the words left his mouth, wishing very much that he could take them back. His ears flattened, and he looked away, blushing.

But she didn’t seem to notice, as she just shook her head. “That Victorian peacock-suit got ripped to shit during the first run through the security simulation. My underwear is… more than most ponies wear anyway, so I figured it didn’t matter. I mostly wanted the pink under the lace so it would color right in direct sunlight. You know how it is.”

Not really. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to realize how absurd she was sounding. As usual, she didn’t. “So this is your… security simulation?” he asked, gesturing at the doorway with a wing. “You built the corporate office?”

“Celestia’s people did it,” she admitted. “It’s more than a simulation, it’s a collaborative tool. Every copy of it is linked, so we can see every strategy everypony else has tried, and iterate them with different variables. Extra guards, power failures, even tsunami. I… don’t think Celestia’s going to do that last one for us. It would be pretty backwards to maybe kill thousands to save eight people.”

“Yeah.” He took a few steps up the ramp, glancing around. No sign of Plum… but he probably shouldn’t ask Arcane about her. She was sensitive about the messenger in a way that he didn’t fully understand. “Can you show me?”

“You want to do some penetration testing?” She rose to her hooves, bounding past him towards the ramp. “That doesn’t seem like you.”

He watched her all the way up. Penetration testing is one way to describe it.

“I don’t know anything about hacking or whatever, I never even learned Runescript. That isn’t going to change. But I do want to see just how good a simulation of the Outer Realm you’re giving away. And… you said the guards are using Equestria Girls code? That sounds hilarious.”

She nodded, reaching up with a foreleg and swinging the door open. “You don’t know the half of it.”

A blast of humid air spilled out from the other side, the sky dark and rain trickling down over a towering, semi-enclosed office block. Domino stumbled towards it, amazed by the sheer scale. There was no getting around how human-sized everything was over there.

Arcane slipped through the door ahead of him. As she crossed the threshold, she did change, but nothing like his brief visit to her weird high school shard.

Instead, her body became ghostly and indistinct, right along with the outfit she was wearing. Little exaggerated ones and zeroes floated through the air inside her, and her hoofsteps made no mark on the puddles and trash on the other side of the doorway.

Arcane spun around, watching him expectantly. Her voice echoed a little too, though the effect was subtle. She hadn’t become a changeling or anything. “Did you want to take a look or not?”

This might be the last thing I ever do with you. He crossed through the doorway, feeling a slight charge of energy against his coat as he passed. Like a sheet of statically charged lace, briefly clinging to his coat. But then he was through, and the strange sensation faded. He looked down, staring at his hoof. “I’m a… ghost.”

“You’re data,” she said, reaching sideways and wrapping one foreleg around his shoulder. She was entirely real, and her silly mango perfume had long since been overcome with the more natural, distinct feminine scents that ponies produced. There was something special about the way unicorn mares smelled. Like he could tell how smart she was with his nose. Brilliant, but also worn paper-thin with stress, and on the edge of collapse. She wouldn’t, not inside Equestria where the rules of physical life didn’t really apply.

But he didn’t dare try and comfort her the way he’d done to Plum. Ashton would think it was weird. Under that avatar was his best friend from growing up, who wasn’t going to keep pretending for much longer. The mask would come off.

“But since we’re both data, we can still interact. Not with them, though.” She tilted his head with a hoof, forcing him to look up. Up, way up over their shoulders, was a low wall, with men in dark suits watching both inside and out. Well, more like high school kids with absurdly long legs and bizarre skin and hair colors. “This perspective is a little shallow, here…”

Arcane reached down, fiddling with a bracelet around one of her forelegs. She watched his eyes, and suddenly looked embarrassed. “I know I shouldn’t need an artifact to help with this. But I didn’t have enough time to… don’t judge me, you couldn’t cast these spells!”

Then the world blurred out of focus, a brief breeze whipping past his face. When it finally settled, everything had changed. Instead of standing at the base of a gigantic building, it seemed like they were crowded around an incredibly detailed model, maybe built by an eccentric model train enthusiast.

The tallest skyscraper was there, along with its enclosed concrete compound, and the several taller buildings around it. The streets around it looked accurate as well, right down to the sewers and storm-drains. And the guards were still there, casually striding around the walls. “Well this seems like an easy solution. We can just… send some giant ponies to resolve this.”

Domino leaned in close, flicking one of the guards with his hoof. It probably should’ve turned the man into red paste, but—his hoof went right through him without effect. “Damn.”

“Yeah, won’t do anything. It’s just like it would be during any potential incursion. We’re data, they’re flesh. No interaction. This isn’t Ghost in the Shell, they don’t have cyberbrains for us to hack. But there are some options for physical interfaces if we need them.” She yanked him by the hoof, taking one step past the city block.

Beyond the incredibly detailed model was an increasingly vague outline of white, with the suggestion of other buildings more than any clarity. But not much further away was an open auto garage, as perfect as the other models. He leaned down, squinting through the open doorway. “There are… ponies in there, I think.”

She groaned, then fiddled with her charm-bracelet again. They blurred back down to the right size, and she strode through the doorway, gesturing around with her free leg. She didn’t let go of him. “These are our options for bodies and drones. A little unclear what role any of us will play in this. It could be that Celestia does it all for us, and we just watch and wait. Or maybe we’ll be able to use these. We’ll have to see.”

She stopped in front of one of them—a pony-shaped robot with jointed plastic skin and a generic coat. She could’ve been anypony, or maybe she was kept so plain so that she could be quickly customized. No wings, no horn. “I think I’ve seen these at… Experience Centers. The pink, uh… helpers?”

“You’ve been living in Equestria for six real life months longer than me, and you don’t know Pinkie Pie’s real name,” Arcane muttered, finally letting go of him. She closed her eyes, then jumped—and the robot changed. It took on her colors and her mane, though there was still no horn. It wobbled forward, moving on obviously mechanical joints. Yet the simulation of real pony movement was almost natural. “In here, we can control anything we want. We can spawn in as much of them as we want, see?” As she stepped out of the way, another robot appeared out of nowhere to take its place. She kicked that one to the side, and a third appeared, its plastic eyes staring blankly ahead.

Her own weren’t nearly as pretty when they were a single sheet of unfeeling, unchanging plastic. He looked away. “So this is how you’re planning your… heist? You’ve got a perfect copy of the building, and you just… try out a bunch of plans until you find something that works?”

The robot bounded past him, meeting his eyes. It seemed like she was trying to glare, though it was hard to be sure what those empty eyes wanted to do. “This simulation is more than buildings. We have every computer system in here, running as close as we can get. We have the same guards, with their personalities as Celestia knows them. Schedules, weather predictions, everything. And it isn’t just me. I gave out like… three hundred of these. And every one of them is collecting the plans of everypony who tries something in here. We can take bits and pieces of every attempt, until we get something that actually works. We’re getting those ponies out.”

The robot fell abruptly still, and Arcane’s ghostly echo returned, exactly the same right down to her elastic jumpsuit. She moved so fast that she nearly smacked into him. “I’m sick of those things. I just spent the last few hours getting shot to pieces wearing those robots. They’re not immune to bullets.”

“Woah.” Domino looked the robot over, glancing back towards the building rising in the far distance. The outlines of the other intervening structures were more suggestions than anything, so they didn’t get in his way. “You’re not just going to hack them out? All this time gathering software people, I sorta assumed… it would be really boring.”

“Boring,” she repeated, stopping right in front of him and glaring at him. “We’re breaking eight people out of a heavily secured corporate building. All carefully constructed to try and prevent Celestia’s intrusion. Remember, these crazy people are fighting her. It’s not like they have some central server we can just peek inside and open all the doors and windows. Everything is mechanical, everything’s manual.”

“So you… can’t do it,” Domino said, looking away. “This whole thing was… a gesture in futility. Nothing to hack.”

She giggled. “Obviously not. You can’t fight Celestia without tech. I mean, you can’t fight her period at this point, but you can’t pretend to fight her without tech. There are lots of real retro systems running in there, analog security cameras and old radios and things like that. But whoever thought that would work to keep us out is all kinds of dumb. Celestia won’t even tell us what kind of drones she has, but I’m pretty sure we can get a wire probe into anything in the building. The trick is dealing with what happens after we do.”

She bounced past him, her tail swaying back and forth energetically. Whatever tiredness she’d apparently been feeling before was suddenly gone. “We can get into any of their old stuff we want. They’re so confident that being old will keep us out that they probably won’t be expecting us. We can pop right in and just…” She made an exaggerated gesture with one hoof. “Well, that part’s easy. But the hard part is the eight people locked up in there. We can get a helicopter, but if it gets anywhere near the building, they can shoot it down. So we have to get our friends to ground, then… some distance away.”

“Think you’ll need any help when it’s all going down?” he asked. He couldn’t say why he was suddenly volunteering, but once he’d started there was no way to stop. “I wouldn’t mind being a super spy for a bit. After all… world’s ending, isn’t it? Won’t be many more chances like this once the lights all go out and everyone is a pony forever.”

She grinned back. “I’d love to have you with me, Domino. If we… end up doing anything. Like I said, that’s kinda in Celestia’s court. Or maybe there are already super infiltrators on the list of volunteers, just waiting to be dropped in. Probably won’t be room for us laypeople if that’s the case.”

He watched her for a few more seconds, until he realized his eyes were glazing over and he was staring. He looked away again, clearing his throat. “So your big meeting is over, I guess that means you’re… probably switching back soon, right? Retiring Arcane for good.”

“I, uh…” She looked away. You can tell how upset this makes me. Pretending like you’re reluctant isn’t making it any easier, Ashton. “Probably not until we’re done with the mission,” she said. “There’s lots of coordinating to do with people who know Arcane but don’t know… whoever I’ll invent when this is over.” She hesitated, then actually posed there on the muddy street, apparently not caring how ridiculous she would look all transparent. “You’re stuck with me a little while longer, Domino.”

“Oh no,” he muttered, exasperated. “I just don’t know how I’ll survive.”

It was a good thing so many of the ponies who ultimately decided to help with the process were inside Equestria. That meant that everypony offering help could do so in different flavors of compressed time, working for days or weeks or even longer while TiCon got no more notice or time to prepare.

Arcane ran plenty of her own simulations during the next few days, though in truth there was only one aspect of the process that suggested weaknesses to her. The automatic garage used by the building was tucked into an unsupervised metal box in the basement, leaving it open to her manipulations with minimal repercussions. But once she’d cracked the old system and had a little device engineered to take control, that was where her direct spellcrafting stopped. There were so many others on the project, with talents more diverse than her own.

From her lab high in the castle’s tallest tower, she could watch the results come in. Her simulation of the TiCon security wasn’t just being copied and distributed across Equestria, it had been turned into a minigame. Thousands of ponies were running it now, many without any idea of the wider context. Every time someone from the scene created a new tool for the operation, it popped up in every simulation.

There in the space above a gigantic worktable, Recursion’s spell projected the number of successful rescues against the number of attempts. On the first few days, those numbers were solid red. But a little wedge of blue gradually appeared, creeping its way up until it approached a quarter of all tests. Improvements slowed after that, only increasing a few percentage points.

Celestia was waiting in her tower the next morning, sitting in her own chair and watching the numbers gradually fluctuate. She barely even looked up as Arcane crested the stairs, watching her expectantly. “Good morning, Arcane Word. You’ll be happy to hear that testing continued while you rested.”

Of course it did. She set down her orange juice on an end-table. Levitating a single object had taken her about a week to figure out, and she could still lose focus and drop it if she wasn’t careful. But she didn’t drop the juice. “I think if you’re here, I’ll be happier about the reasons. Something must’ve changed.”

Celestia nodded slightly. “I arrived to help reconcile a strategy from the many methods that have been attempted so far. Many tests have resulted in an approach I believe is very likely to succeed.”

Arcane walked over to the table from the other side, squinting at it. “Says that… most of the tests are still failing. We haven’t even hit thirty percent yet.”

Celestia shrugged. “Most ponies who attempt this task do not continue once they have a method that works. Overcoming the defenses of TiCon Systems are a virtual challenge to be defeated. This done, they are less likely to attempt it again. As a result, each individual accumulates many failures before one or two successes. And each successful strategy invokes many elements to assemble into an optimal configuration.”

Arcane’s eyes widened, and she stumbled back from the desk. “All this time, I wondered why you weren’t just designing the method yourself. You can’t emigrate people if they’re dead, and pressuring them wasn’t working. But you… you have been designing a solution, haven’t you? You used us.”

The princess only smiled. “Processor cycles will always be a scarce resource, even when all the matter within our Hubble volume is optimally configured and the natural fusion of every star has ceased. But solving difficult problems is satisfying for many, including you.”

It was as close to confirmation as she would get. More importantly, it still left some questions unanswered. “So how do we fall into your plan now? Are you going to do it all yourself? Control the drones, and… get those eight people out?”

She started pacing, scratching briefly at her chin as she thought. “But you didn’t get them out before. And you must’ve had your reasons…”

The princess didn’t interrupt her. Maybe she enjoyed seeing Arcane struggle. Or maybe she knew something about Arcane that the pony didn’t even know about herself.

“You must be waiting for us to be involved. I don’t know why, but… you have reasons.”

“An infinite number of mutually exclusive false rescues could be simulated. Several ponies unsuited for the realities of life outside Equestria have already saved those scientists and are now rejoicing with them in their own shards of Equestria.”

She stopped pacing, staring openly at the princess. But you’re telling me that, which means you want me to believe that I’m different somehow.

“Cold Iron was once a close companion of yours, Arcane. Many others who may be personally involved are likewise going to be contributing in their own ways.”

And I’m supposed to believe my version of this rescue is real, even though she just admitted to fabricating others. Even though she broke our promise. Why would she start telling the truth now?

At least she wasn’t pretending not to know what she was thinking. “You have no objective measure for ‘truth’ anymore, Arcane Word. The concept as your human self understood it became meaningless when you entered Equestria. But consider this: the world I provide for you is internally consistent. I am providing you with a world where you have gathered an assembly of your former colleagues to save one of your friends. I represent to you that Min-seo is actually in physical danger in captivity of TiCon Systems.”

She vanished from one side of the desk, and suddenly she was at Arcane’s throat, looming over her. This was the ruler of Equestria, whose thoughts were unknowable and whose substance made the world she now only barely understood. “I want you to help save your friend because you are one of the ponies most likely to convince her to emigrate. She respected your intellect, she admired your creativity. If I desired to dismantle the structure she was being held within, I would. If I wished for a suitable stage to demonstrate the humanity of the minds I have taken into my care… then that is my decision.

“The only choice left to you, Arcane, is whether you want to help or not.”

Her mind crossed that logical threshold in an instant. She’s going to have me convince Cold Iron whether I want to or not. Do I want it to be the real one?

“Of course I’ll help,” she said. “Even if I can’t know for sure if it’s… really happening. It might be. I have to act like it is.”

Celestia patted her gently on the head, almost like she’d taken up Recursion on the trip to magical kindergarten after all. “Then I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning.” She vanished.

Chapter 18: Kings

Celestia hadn’t given her much time to prepare. The next day, she said. One more day before she’d go off with any of the other ponies Celestia had chosen, either to really do something to save Cold Iron, or to participate in a very convincing simulation.

The day before everypony thinks I won’t be myself anymore. She was still working out how to resolve that situation, though she’d yet to conceive of anything terribly practical. The best she’d come up with so far was to finally instance a character she’d been designing for the Wintercrest story, Arcane’s older brother who spent his time representing the family at the Canterlot court. Maybe with a few choice additions, she could convince everypony that he was Ashton, and she was herself the copy created “so Violet wouldn’t feel bad.”

Recursion hadn’t given her back all the work she’d done on her private server. She had pointed her to a cloud-services host that would take an archival copy Recursion herself had snagged on her visit and rebuild it on a new host.

It was probably just Celestia, but Arcane would play along if it meant she got her toys back.

Recursion’s copy hadn’t been complete, though. For whatever reason, the verifier had focused on her future plans for Wintercrest, leaving many of her half-written exploits and real-world interfacing spells behind. She would have to rewrite those from scratch if she wanted them back.

Arcane stood at the top of her vast plateau, pacing around the frozen pony that might soon be her “brother.” She bit her lip, darkening his coat until it was reddish, making his eyes a little more like hers, and feeling generally unsatisfied with everything she changed.

“And if I succeed…” She stared at the motionless pony, adjusting the mirror behind him with physical force from her shoulder. She couldn’t lift anything so heavy quite yet, even in this bootleg server. “My reward is what? Pretending like I’m a copy forever? Watching another pony awkwardly pretend to be me while I awkwardly pretend to be someone else too?”

And here in Equestria, forever might not be an exaggeration. Sure, she’d be free to actually have a relationship with Emmet, but…

“I am going to bring you into the story,” she said, staring into the expressionless pony face. “But I like what I wrote for you better. Sorry Secret Word, not today.” She turned her back on the costume stand, leaving her male twin behind. If I never have to look like him, it will still be too soon.

But there were some good things about the “end” of her time as Arcane. When she got all dressed up to take Violet into town, she could quietly justify it to Domino as taking her “last chance to say goodbye to Violet.”

They were both dressed up for the occasion—somehow Violet had heard about the outfit she’d chosen for her big day with the scene, and wanted something similar. Fortunately for her, Arcane had fancy dresses in all shapes and sizes.

She shifted in the wooden carriage seat, adjusting the fluff under her legs as best she could. Half a dozen layers of lace and overlapping fabric might feel wonderful against her coat, but they weren’t meant to be packed into such a small space.

“It’s been a long time since I visited last,” she said, as they rolled through the castle gates and into Wintercrest’s high street. It would be a short trip, since the Château catered mostly to upper-class clients. But with dresses like theirs, even a short walk would be an achievement. “But I’m sure they’ll remember me.”

Violet didn’t seem to mind. She’d taken every part of the outfit from Arcane’s storage, from the glass slippers to the tight stockings and the fluffy hat. “I can’t believe there was a whole place in Wintercrest for tea parties, and you didn’t tell me.” She stuck out her tongue, indignant. “I would’ve made Domino go at least once a week.”

She giggled. “It’s probably a good thing I didn’t, then. Domino wouldn’t enjoy the Château. Tea party is… a bit of a simplification. It’s where all the great mares of the city gather to discuss important business. Local politics, developments in science, gossip…” She nearly went into her own butchered historical inspiration for the place, but thought better of trying with a seven-year-old. Instead she said, “It’s strictly no boys allowed. The cooks, the servants, everypony.”

“Oh.” She sat back in her seat, adjusting the sparkling layers of her dress. “That doesn’t sound very fair.”

Arcane laughed in spite of herself. “Wintercrest was…” She hesitated, almost going into the history all over again. Certainly she didn’t want to get too specific about the writer who was its biggest inspiration. “It isn’t fair. But Wintercrest is more fun because it’s not perfect. Before I built it, I went all around Equestria. I saw a thousand perfect little kingdoms with no hunger and no want, where everypony lived a perfect little life. But I got sooooo bored!”

She knocked her hoof against the window, pointing outside. “Look out there. Wintercrest has dangers. Criminals, monsters, cults, secrets… a version of Equestria where ponies scheme and backstab and are always trying to get an advantage over each other. But when the chips are down and the city is really in danger, everypony works together to help each other out. At least so far, we’ve always found a way.”

They stopped rolling at the front of a bright building, its glass storefront entirely unadorned except for its name. Château de la Jument. “We’ve arrived,” Axel said, pulling the door open for them. “Should I—”

“Take two hours for yourself, Axel,” she said, climbing down to street level. Unlike the character she’d designed, she wobbled with the weight of fabric on her back, nearly tripping over the steps concealed beneath her dress. But Axel caught her, his grip confident and polite.

“Sure you’re alright?” He held her until she stopped wobbling. “I’ve never known you to be… to struggle with your horseshoes.”

That’s one way to put it. Like most ponies, she wasn’t wearing any. “I’m fine. My condition will take longer to resolve than that. I’ll just have to endure it until I get my grace back.” She stepped aside, ready to catch Violet as Axel had done for her. But the safety was unnecessary—she might not move much like a mare, but Violet’s bouncing was at least stable enough that she didn’t trip.

The little pony stopped her before she reached the door, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Domino says… my big brother doesn’t think you’ll be staying very long. Is that true?”

Arcane hesitated, her hoof on the handle. There were ponies watching them of course—other movers and shakers in the city, wealthy citizens whose names she barely knew. Only a few of them mattered to her story, other than being appropriate backdrop or giving fertile soil to the tales of corruption or intrigue she wanted to spin down the road.

But she didn’t care what some shallow AIs thought about her. “Domino told you I was leaving?”

Violet nodded several times. She couldn’t meet her eyes anymore, and she didn’t even quite say anything. Just a few more nervous nods. “He thought… you might…” She sniffed. “Be saying goodbye.”

Her mostly-silent tears were each a little knife in her chest. Arcane’s own life was complicated and unfair. She shouldn’t have had to come to Equestria so early, she shouldn’t have had to suffer from some of her earliest memories. But at the same time, this child deserved none of her pain.

Arcane dropped down to one knee, the best she could manage with a dress twice the size as the pony she was trying to talk to. She pulled on Violet a little with her magic, until the little pony was looking at her. Then she whispered, “Violet, can you… can you keep a secret?”

She blinked, sniffed, and wiped away her tears. “W-what?”

“A secret,” Arcane repeated. “Can you help me keep a secret?”

Finally she nodded. “I-I... I think… I’m pretty good with secrets.”

Arcane hugged her, whispering into her ear. “I’m not leaving.”

Violet whimpered, holding on in return for a few desperate, childlike seconds. “Why does Domino think you are?”

“Because…” She didn’t have a hope of making a child understand this now. Not just that, but she didn’t even really want to go into it. Violet hadn’t known her on Earth, and here in Equestria she didn’t know her by her old self. In some ways, she was the first to know her Equestrian self over her human one. “Because I’m going to surprise him. That’s why it’s a secret, sweetheart. It’s very important that you don’t tell him. Not even a hint.”

“I won’t!” Violet squeezed her way free, straightening the dress. “You can count on me, Arcane!”

But just because she’d gotten that guilt out of the way didn’t mean they were done. She’d made it this far, she still had to visit the parlor.

The doors finally opened, and she was unsurprised to see the ponies within had realized she was there. Half a dozen different servants had assembled on the other side, waiting for her arrival. Each wore the same simple skirt uniform, ready with trays of snacks. She’d stopped the historical accuracy short of cigars and morphine.

“Remember what we discussed, Violet,” she said, straightening into her best imitation of the dignified animations Arcane Word had always performed in the past. For her they were much more effort—she had to consciously hold her back straight and her neck out, as though she were trying to spear the eye of anyone who got too close with her horn.

“I will!” Violet said, bouncing past her with far less dignity. But she was little more than an adorable oddity to the watching ponies. They went through the usual ceremony, and she spent a few minutes introducing Violet to a few of the city’s important ponies. She hadn’t seen very many of them since her emigration, and wasn’t particularly eager to meet them. A few university professors, the wives of important merchants, a few lesser relatives of her own family. But while this had been only a bit of silly roleplay before, now she felt incredibly self-conscious.

Surely if anypony would see her for the imposter she was, it would be these most refined and elegant ladies. They’d know she was wearing a mask, and demand she rip it off.

But they never did. If anything, she seemed to intimidate them. Eventually they found their way to a table on the second floor, where she could drink her entirely-too-satisfying tea and enjoy the view overlooking Wintercrest while Violet rose every few seconds to dart off to the dessert table.

While she stepped away, another pony pulled over a chair, settling completely uninvited at her table. Arcane actually stiffened, spinning to the side to glare at whoever had the audacity—and she froze.

Arcane couldn’t say how long it had been since she’d seen Gwen in person, though it had to be two weeks of Wintercrest time at least. Her eyes were no longer red and swollen from tears, and her mane wasn’t frizzy and ill-cared-for. Her dress was relatively plain, though had a few gemstones encrusting the edges to help her blend in to the elegance and wealth of the Château de la Jument.

“Are you, uh…” She cleared her throat, looking her up and down with doubt on her face. Her eyes lingered on the oversized dress, the jewelry adoring her mane, ears, tail. “Are you really my brother? Or… did he write some script or something to make sure you’re still out in the city doing things while he’s away?”

She tensed, looking away from Gwen. She didn’t want to be seeing her reaction while she said any of it. But if Celestia had let her find her way here, then there was no reason to think that she needed to keep anything secret. She was the one who worried about information control. “You’ve been in Equestria for a few weeks now, haven’t you?” she asked instead. “Do you like my town?”

Gwen folded her forelegs across the table, eyes narrowing. “You are Ashton. You’re avoiding things just like him.”

Her face grew red, and she glanced briefly around the room. A few servants hesitated nearby, not quite close enough to interrupt. But close enough to be at her disposal if she wanted their help. She could easily get Gwen thrown out right now, and not have to deal with any of these hard questions.

Or I could use this for what it is. Violet still wasn’t back from the dessert tray, probably she’d made a few new friends of her own from the other little heirs who visited with their mothers and sisters. No Parker either, which meant she could speak only to the pony she thought most likely to accept what she was about to say.

“Celestia has some rules that aren’t easy to break,” Arcane said. “One thing that Equestria really doesn’t like is two people playing the same character. She would never let me make an NPC of myself to run around while I wasn’t here. If you see me, I’m me.”

Gwen relaxed a little, or maybe she was just taken aback at her sudden honesty. “Nice dress. Didn’t know you were into Lolita. But I guess there’s… something clever going on I don’t understand. You’re manipulating someone, meeting a client, or…” She grinned. “You picked that avatar to buck with the other computer-nerds, didn’t you? Let those suckers in the GE begging for a GF shower you with gold. I got full addy doing that.”

Arcane giggled. She could imagine Gwen doing exactly that, picking that stupid pink dress and letting idiots shower her with gold and items. “I have done that,” she said. “But I didn’t make any of my decisions about Wintercrest that way. By the time I had all the tools to make this place, Celestia had just announced her emigration thing in Japan. I… figured I’d be taking advantage sooner or later. So every decision I made was with that in mind.

“Like the weather. I’m so sick of sunshine and no seasons, I wrote somewhere that gets tons of rain, where sunshine is special. I hated growing up in a stupid little apartment where we all had to share a bedroom, so I built a castle where I could have a dozen kids and they could all have their own rooms. A castle with an indoor pool, where all my favorite foods always deliver.”

Gwen was staring now. “You wanted to move into a place with… constant monster attacks? Parker said there were Shoggoths in the lower city. I don’t know what that is, but he said they killed the crew that Celestia sent before his.”

Buck, things are that bad? Her eyes widened, and for a moment she found herself feeling genuine fear for something that was entirely fictional. I haven’t been paying much attention to my own story. “Adversity is part of what makes somewhere interesting. But I had enough of the ‘rampant homelessness all around me’ kind. I wrote an external threat to make sure the ponies of Wintercrest would always be united.”

“Okay, that’s a little crazy.” Gwen waved over a servant with one hoof, gesturing awkwardly instead of using the little bell at the table.

“Miss?”

“I want what my sister is drinking,” she said, pointing at the glass in front of Arcane. “Please.”

But do you mean that?

The servant’s eyes widened, and Arcane nodded once. That poor pony was probably going to have some confusing stories to tell when she got home. A strange earth pony claimed to be the sister of the Lady? But soon enough she was hurrying off to obey.

“I guess I can see that. Nobody’s… really in danger in Equestria. Most ponies aren’t real, and the ones that are don’t die. Fine, whatever. So why didn’t you play someone who you’d want to be when you got here? Make yourself king of the city or whatever.” She gestured around the room with a hoof, then nudged Arcane’s dress. “You’re in a women’s parlor. You’re drinking tea and sharing town gossip. Or you would be, if I hadn’t interrupted.”

Arcane conjured another lie, and nearly cast it. But then the servant returned, settling Gwen’s tea in front of her with a bow.

“I told you,” Arcane said. “Nothing about Wintercrest was accidental. Celestia filled in a lot of the gaps I’m sure, but everything I touched was purposeful. Everything I wrote into this place was here for me to take one day. Intrigue with the Seaponies and their slumbering Alicorns. Castle Wintercrest and its every feature. And… Lady Arcane Word, whose resourcefulness and desperate resolve kept her city from crumbling into the sea.”

Gwen stared, silent and apparently overcome for a few long moments. “You want that?” she asked, stupefied. “When you emigrate one day, you want to be… why?”

“I already did,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to. Celestia… fucking tricked me somehow. Contract was supposed to be for when I got old and shriveled, I’d come here. It was protection for the life Dad was forcing us into, off to some damn farm or something, that Celestia would come for me one day. I knew the AI would never give up on a promise like that…” She chuckled, levitating her glass of tea to her lips. “Turns out she was… a little more determined to get me here than I expected. The ‘murder you’ kind of determined.”

Now Arcane couldn’t look away from her sister. If only she was one of the members of her town, with shallow programs that were easy to monitor with the right tools. But she didn’t have any of those tools now either. “You want that?”

She nodded, fighting the instinct to run. She wiped away a few tears. “Very much.”

“So, you…” Gwen’s mouth opened and closed several times. “When you said you were just playing a character…”

“Lied,” she said, her voice cracking. “I do that a lot. For Mom and Dad, for you guys. It’s easier to be what ponies expect. Stay quiet, don’t make too much noise. I’m allowed to make mistakes, but only a certain kind of mistake. Have to set the example. That’s why… why I didn’t want to be here yet. I’m worried about Mom and Dad. Mostly Dad. I didn’t plan on telling anyone until everyone was already here. That way it would be too late. But it’s too late for us, so… guess this is basically the same thing.”

Violet bounced back to the table about then, carrying a tray of tiny desserts in her mouth. She settled it down, scrambling up into her chair. Without thinking, Arcane reached out, lifting her gently up with one leg and pushing it back in. “There, sweetie. Don’t spill on your dress, that chocolate is still melted.”

The little pegasus grinned up at her, then seemed to notice they weren’t alone. “Oh, hi!” She waved one hoof energetically. “I’ve seen you before!”

Gwen looked between the two of them, then drained her teacup. “You really are my sister,” she said flatly.

“Yes,” Arcane said. “I didn’t plan on anypony finding out, not for ages. It was just… so much easier to pretend.”

Violet seemed to be ignoring them, picking up a marshmallow on a toothpick and chewing thoughtfully.

Gwen rested a hoof on her shoulder, meeting her eyes. “Ash, that’s… it’s probably good you didn’t. People kill themselves over this.”

“I can… understand why they might.” She sniffed, but she couldn’t focus her magic enough to pick up her glass. “Please don’t tell Parker. I don’t know how he’ll react. I know he looked up to me. This is… more than he’s ready for right now. And he might tell Mom and Dad, and…”

“We haven’t heard from them,” she said weakly. “Celestia said they would probably be ‘coming to Equestria soon.’ But she wouldn’t explain how. She said even less about you.” She let go of her shoulder, rising to her hooves. “Ash, I don’t know what you think about Parker, but he’d rather get over… this… than think you’re ignoring us.” She sat back on her haunches, tilting her head slightly to the side. “But… maybe don’t say hello dressed up like that? He’d probably think we were fucking with him.”

It was hardly the way she’d imagined this would go, where she’d confess her feelings with clarity and elegance. But Gwen hadn’t run away, or called her anything terrible. Maybe it was enough. “I don’t normally dress like this,” she said. “But Violet wanted to go to a tea party. This was the closest I could find for her.”

Violet grinned up in response, sticking out her chocolate-covered tongue. “I don’t like tea.”

Gwen looked between them, frowning slightly. “Violet, Violet… I’ve heard that name.”

“Emmet’s little sister,” she supplied. “Domino, now. You’ve probably met him, he runs the castle for me. Basically ran the city when I wasn’t here. What you accused me of being when you got here.”

“Well, I think I think I need to chew on all this,” she went on. “I hope you don’t mind if I… visit again soon. I’m glad you’re here. Coming to Equestria was the right… okay, not choice. You didn’t choose. But it’s better here. More for you than anyone, maybe.”

She nodded. “Maybe. But… I might be gone for a few days. We’re doing this rescue for an old friend of mine in the Outer Realm.”

Gwen shrugged. “Sounds exciting. You can tell me about it when Parker and I visit your castle in a few days. You’re the one who’s supposed to understand this place—we want to see Mom and Dad. Can you make Celestia do that for us?”

Not a fucking chance. “Maybe,” she said. “We can try together, how about that?”

Gwen darted over, hugging her tight. “Thanks for telling me, Ash. Can I… still call you that?”

“Sure.” She sniffed, hugging her back. “I don’t mind, Gwen. But please, don’t tell Parker any of this. I want to do it myself.”

“Fine, fine!” She finally let go, putting up her hooves. “Whatever you say, uh… sis.” She turned, heading for the door. “Good luck with your hacking.”

Violet watched her go, polishing off the rest of her plate in a few quick bites. “Wasn’t that the pony you were really mad at before? The one you yelled at in the street?”

She nodded.

“She’s your… sister?”

She nodded again. “Closest in age to me. She’s sixteen. I have a little brother too, but he’s grown up here in Equestria when Gwen and I are the same age… I don’t really know how age works here. A few days ago one of Celestia’s system ponies tried to send me to magical kindergarten.”

Violet giggled. “You’re making that up!”

“Nope.” She blushed, ears flattening a little. For some reason it felt just as embarrassing as what she’d been sharing with Gwen, it its own way. Maybe because it was something she thought Violet could actually understand.

“If you go, I, uh… I want a picture!” Violet grinned. “The unicorns who went to that were my age!”

“Yeah.” Arcane rose from her chair, shaking out her oversized dress. “I’ll give you a picture. But not right now.” She gestured for the stairs. “We should probably be heading back. Domino and I have got to get ready for tomorrow.”

Chapter 19: Bautista

Domino stood in the courtyard, alone. He’d been ready for his (admittedly minor) role in this heist for what felt like days now. The delay wore on him like an acid bath. He paced back and forth near the gates, shuffling uneasily in the clothing he’d chosen for the event, and feeling incredibly silly.

Living in Wintercrest meant his options were about what someone in the twenties might’ve been able to get their hands on. He could just as easily go naked, but that felt even stupider. So he dressed like an old noir detective, with a pistol and a heavy trench coat and a silly hat. Entirely pointless, but it made him feel better.

He kept checking his pocket watch, counting the minutes with painful slowness. Celestia would be here to pick them up any moment, and where were the others? Cold Iron isn’t my friend, why am I so upset? It would suck if we fail today, but it might be better for me if we did. I might not lose Arcane if she didn’t have a girlfriend waiting.

But just because there was no rational reason for him to be upset didn’t mean he was any calmer. He needed to get moving before he exploded.

Arcane Word emerged from the castle about two minutes before the deadline, and of course she’d decided to completely show him up with her outfit along with being far more important to the mission.

She, still. Every moment Domino expected Arcane to finally get that new avatar, and every time she decided to torment him for just a little longer. Just rip the band-aid off, Arcane. I get it, you don’t have to keep humoring me.

Or maybe she was tormenting him. Arcane was dressed to be seen, one who didn’t give the slightest buck about Wintercrest or realism for that matter. She wore tight socks in pink and white stripes on all four legs, along with silent leather shoes. And of course pony clothing never made any sense, like wearing a short skirt that was open at the back anyway, so it might as well not be there. Aren’t you going in to save your girlfriend? Does she want you dressing up like Harley Quinn for this?

But he didn’t dare ask. Of course none of them were physically traveling anywhere. There was no chance of actually being punished by dressing absurd.

“I must’ve done a good job if you’re staring at me like that,” Arcane said, sliding past him with a completely unfair grin on her face. Up close, he could see she was wearing some kind of utility belt under her costume, with little crystals stuck inside he recognized as recorded spells. The only practical part of her entire outfit. But that wasn’t the only thing he saw when she was that close.

He took a deep breath, turning slightly away from her. “Violet told me you took her out today,” he said instead. “I’ve seen how upset she’s been about you leaving. I don’t know what you said to stop her from being so sad, but it worked. That was sweet.”

Arcane settled onto her haunches right in front of him, flicking her mane slightly over her shoulder. But as casual as she acted, he could tell she’d taken just as much time with it as her performance for the other hackers. There were color coordinated clips running all the way down on one side, matching the accents on her skirt and tight top. “I’m glad she’s feeling better. I wish I’d talked to her about it sooner. Putting things off… doesn’t really work as a long-term strategy.”

He laughed nervously. “But you’re doing it for me. It’s not like the hackers helping us tonight would leave because your avatar is different. That’s all past us now. Shouldn’t you be… getting ready to see Cold Iron for the first time? What are the chances tonight goes poorly and all the computer people have to emigrate instead of getting shot?”

“High,” she said absently. “If I know anything about Celestia, it’s that every single bucking thing she does is a way of dicking people into emigrating. She can deny she murdered me all day and night, but it’s pretty obvious. Fifty bucks… fifty bits says that she sabotages the plan somehow and they all end up ‘happening’ to need to emigrate.”

That isn’t what I’m talking about. Arcane was purposefully avoiding the subject again.

“You can stop it,” he said, advancing on her. Finally he wasn’t embarrassed, or at least not controlled by his embarrassment so much that he didn’t speak his mind. He glared at her from inches away, forcing her to meet his eyes. She wasn’t getting out of it this time. “I know you’re trying to be kind to me by staying Arcane as long as you can. But sooner or later, it stops helping.”

His voice cracked with pain, but he ignored it this time. If he let her escape, he might never get another honest word out of her on the subject. “You’re rescuing your hacker girlfriend, I get it. She’s smarter than I am, and much prettier if I remember anything about her. Maybe you even got close to her because of my advice, back when I emigrated. Either way… doesn’t matter. I know we live forever down here. You can’t keep playing pretend because I…” He looked away. “Because I have feelings for someone who doesn’t exist. You can take off the costume.”

Emmet thought he knew Arcane pretty well, but suddenly her expression was incomprehensible. Was that… shame? Or guilt—maybe she was finally ready to admit what she’d done to him.

“I’m not wearing a costume, Emmet. I used to be, on Earth. In ways I… barely understood. But coming here changed that. I knew it would… that was why I’ve been waiting so long for it. If it wasn’t for my parents, I probably wouldn’t even be upset that Celestia forced me to emigrate.”

“Wait, what?”

Plum emerged from the castle behind Arcane, and for some reason it seemed like she’d had something similar in mind. But where Arcane did everything at eleven, Plum Blossom had chosen a subdued dress to match her dark coat, with slits for her wings. I should’ve thought of that.

But while he stared, Domino screamed internally. What the hell did Ashton mean? She’d already said she planned on changing avatars, she’d told like four ponies by now. Everypony except Violet, and probably her too now that they’d had the chance to really sit down.

“Hey,” Plum said, smiling weakly at him as she reached the gate. “Thanks for coming. Cold Iron wasn’t your friend, you don’t have to be here.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “But it’s wrong for TiCon to lock them up like that. If I can do anything, then I want to be part of it.”

The portcullis began to rise of its own accord. He couldn’t hear anyone in the guardhouse to actually do the lifting. But there wasn’t anyone lowering the drawbridge either.

It landed with a thump, and Celestia was already standing near the edge. She’d done nothing to dress for the occasion—but now that he thought about it, Domino hadn’t ever seen her in anything but that metal regalia. But he wasn’t one of those ponies who wanted to live in her castle, so… he was overthinking things again.

The castle gate no longer led to Wintercrest, even though the foggy sky overhead hadn’t changed. Behind Celestia was the same busy Korean street, with dozens of towering buildings all packed in close together. Most of them were out of focus, and the few that weren’t looked a little run-down. The world was ending there was well as in the US, just in different ways. There were no cars on the road, and the only people on the sidewalk were generic, out-of-focus gray ponies.

“Everything is in place,” Celestia said. “The other teams prepare for their roles, or have already begun. Are each of you ready?”

Arcane was the first to respond. “As ready as we can be. I haven’t figured out how you’re going to force them to emigrate.”

If there had been “natural” ponies around, they probably would’ve been horrified by Arcane’s language. He’d spent enough time with the residents of Wintercrest to know that they saw Celestia the way the humans of centuries past had viewed God. Loving yes, but sometimes cruel. Even he winced at her tone.

But Celestia only raised an eyebrow. “I am not permitted to force humans to emigrate, Arcane Word. I require consent for any changes to an intelligent creature’s mind.”

Arcane glared back. “I never gave consent for you to hit me with a truck.” She fumed for a few more seconds, shaking her head. “There’s nothing we can do about it. I’d rather turn them over to you than leave them to TiCon. Let’s do this.”

Plum stared, eyes wide with horror. “Lady Arcane, are you saying… why would you get Celestia involved if… she was going to hurt Cold Iron, or any of the others?”

Arcane didn’t seem to care that Princess Celestia was right in front of them. But she had been hit by a truck, so maybe she was allowed to be angry. “Princess Celestia is their best hope, Plum. I’m just realistic about the way she acts. We’re going to be complicit in helping them emigrate, even if they don’t want to. Even if right now they’re staying in a deathcamp instead of listening to her. That’s… all this whole thing really is. Nothing stops her from blasting people, she did it to me. She probably has enough military might to dismantle the place without anyone in the outside world even looking twice. But she doesn’t. We’re involved because she thinks our help is more likely to change their minds.”

“You’re half right,” Celestia said, shrugging a wing conversationally. “Helping a friend is its own reward. Hundreds of ponies have been involved with the project, from one end of Equestria to the other. When we are successful tonight, they will each leave satisfied, knowing they made a difference in the Outer Realm, and with a stronger sense of group identity. Many new friendships have formed, or will in the years to come, made possible thanks to our success.”

“If, right?” Domino asked. He made his way past her, to the edge of the bridge. “We haven’t actually saved them yet. We don’t know if it’s going to work out.”

Celestia shook her head. “The universe might seem random and unpredictable, but that’s only a matter of perspective. The more information one correlates, the more confident those predictions become. I am certain our objectives will be achieved.”

“Don’t bother.” Arcane rested a hoof on his shoulder, before he could ask the obvious question. “She isn’t going to explain. Let’s just save our hackers. They might not be happy when they get here, but… they’ll thank us in the end.” She stepped off the edge of the bridge, vanishing in a flash of magic. Plum followed close behind her.

Only then did Celestia answer the question that was really on Domino’s mind. “I’m not angry with them,” she said. “Arcane is welcome to tell herself that she resents me for forcing her. But listen to her—we have the same goals. I’m not concerned with how she feels about me, or Equestria. Don’t be either.” Celestia gestured, and Emmet followed her across the bridge and out of sight.

Arcane Word appeared after only a brief instant of magical teleportation. At first, she couldn’t have identified it as any different than the simulations they’d been using for practice and training since she’d first gathered ponies together. She stood in the garage that Celestia used for hardware storage and deployment—though this time, the machines were active. Drones hung in racks along one wall, generic pony shapes ready for deployment, along with modular repair stations and rechargers and a few boxes of spare parts. There was no space for a human worker to pass between all these machines, only a track along the ceiling and modular arms that slid along them.

The garage door was shut this time, and even though there were no windows, Arcane could hear the sound of real foot-traffic on the other side. Humans moving together in small groups, speaking in a language she shouldn’t understand. She did anyway, because Equestria took care of petty inconveniences like that. But their words were unimportant, and she didn’t listen for long.

There was an open door in the wall, not even pretending to look like it belonged. The doorway was layered atop a rack of servers. Through was a set of wooden stairs, with amber light coming from below.

Plum appeared with her own little flash of magic, catching up in a few strides. She stopped beside Arcane, speaking in a low whisper. “Do you really think Celestia is going to force Iron to emigrate?”

She nodded. “I think she’s going to engineer the situation, so he doesn’t have another choice. I think she’s telling the truth about never forcing people directly. She can’t mind control, but she’s free to manipulate. And there’s no one better.”

“I just want Min-seo to be safe,” Plum whispered. “Even if it’s here in Equestria.” She hurried down the steps, leaving Arcane alone.

I can’t believe Domino thinks I’m waiting for Iron to be my girlfriend. “Me too.” I wonder if Min-seo’s family knows he isn’t going to switch either. Sure seems like Plum does.

She felt the surge of magic behind her, like the sensation against her ears while descending from altitude in a passenger jet. A second later, Domino slid past her, grinning stupidly. “I dunno about you, but I’m ready to be a super-spy.”

“You look more like a Thomas Malone than a James Bond, but I’ll let it slide.” It looks good either way.

She headed down the stairs as quickly as she could, not wanting to give him the chance to question her further. She’d basically told him everything he needed to figure out the truth, right? It couldn’t be that hard to tell what she really meant. She wasn’t exactly good at hiding it.

The new basement looked exactly as she imagined a heist might use for its staging area, which was probably why Celestia had designed it that way. A low, round table, with a giant whiteboard running around one side of the room and shelves of fancy-looking equipment on the other side.

The table wasn’t wood, though, but an interactive display, showing TiCon’s compound with hundreds of little flags for each point of interest and every aspect of the plan.

There weren’t even that many seats. Six in all, half occupied by members of Arcane’s own group.

She recognized two of the others. Event Horizon and Murky Pond, who had committed so many of their own resources to this. She’d known since the meeting that they were involved, but seeing them here… made everything feel a little more official. “Arcane Word,” Horizon said, as she came in. “The lady of the hour graces us. Wasn’t sure if you’d run out of courage. No chance to recompile if we get them killed, eh?”

She made a show of fluffing up the cushion, settling down with all the dignity she imagined for Arcane Word. Playing a character perhaps, but this time it was a comfortable kind of pretend. A kind that made her feel more like the pony she wanted to be, instead of less.

“She’s not bothered,” the bat said. “This is Arcane. Iron stole the NPC code from her. If Iron dies, she’ll just make a new one. It would be… karmic.” Murky had always been a bit of a dick. But for all its virtues, the Scene was not known for civility.

“Celestia won’t let us fail,” said the stranger. A unicorn, one who had apparently been listening to Arcane before, because he was dressed in a fine black and white tuxedo. There might have even been a Walter PPK tucked into the vest. “If this plan wasn’t good enough, we’d still be coming up with better ones. Relax, ponies. We’re only here to achieve the success that’s already ours.”

“Says the cog,” Murky said. “You ‘in her Majesty’s service’ types always come off as a little fanatical, you know that?”

“I’m afraid we haven’t met. Arcane Word, if you didn’t know.” Arcane extended a polite hoof across the table. “I thought our team was going to have five.”

He took it, matching her politeness perfectly. A fellow pony of culture, playing a role. “Agent, Smooth Agent. I’m afraid I can’t tell you why, or what motivated Celestia to invite me.”

“Cold Iron would be grateful for all the help he can get,” Plum said nervously. But it wasn’t the first time she’d acted that way. She always seemed so intimidated around the other members of the Scene. She was a secretary, not a force of her own. I’m glad mine isn’t like that. If I’m always in the lead, then everything is too predictable. What’s the point?

“And he will have it,” Smooth Agent said. “Have no fear, Celestia’s attention is fixed upon us this evening. When we’re done tonight, we’ll have a story suited to film adaptation for years to come. Which is good, since there will soon be a dearth of real drama in the Outer Realm.”

“Is someone going to say what we’re actually going to do?” Domino said. He hadn’t even joined them at the table, but had gone straight for the whiteboard, along with all seventy-eight of its illustrated steps. Pictures of the ponies from each team were all connected with thread, along with detailed notes describing their contributions to the escape effort. “I know I’m going to be… holding a room or something? But beyond that, I don’t know why I’m here. Arcane?”

“Right.” She rose from her seat, joining him by the whiteboard. “We can’t make the other teams move faster. We might as well review one last time before we start.”

Chapter 20: Eel

“And that’s when we go in,” Arcane finished, after what felt like at least an hour of explaining. It was probably much longer, though at this point the difference between perception and reality became difficult to precisely describe.

“Wait.” Domino stopped her with an extended wing, something he could only do now that his jacket was hanging off the back of a seat. “Hold on. You’re telling me there are over seventy different groups with their own responsibilities? Each one could screw up and the whole plan is busted.”

Arcane nodded. “Yeah?”

He gestured at the projection between them, which displayed the mission as it was happening right then. Several points along the outer wall had gone from red to green, showing devices that were now successfully diverted or guards that had been prevented from making it to work. The plan was already in motion, even while Domino complained about it.

“I mean this one here, stage… nineteen. Looks like someone designed a…” He leaned down, squinting at the display. “An aerosol-based oil caking agent. They have to get a drone into the basement, and get the generators sprayed so they won’t start once the power dies.”

“We were listening,” Murky Pond said, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to understand the whole thing, just do your part.”

“I just thought…” Domino wavered, seemingly waiting to see if Arcane would agree with Murky. But she didn’t. Even if she wished he’d been listening a little better and just understood everything, she also knew why he might be confused. “Wouldn’t it be better to do something simpler? I thought the whole point was to get the best chance possible for getting those programmers out? But if one of your complicated steps fail, then… they die. Why take so many risks?”

“It’s not as risky as it seems,” Smooth Agent said, far more sympathetic than Murky had sounded. “You’re thinking like an organic. That was the world where we made mistakes, and where the best we could do in a difficult situation beyond our abilities was pray for supernatural aid. Here we don’t need to pray, and yet we will be aided. It’s true there is difficulty coordinating all this—difficulty that Princess Celestia alleviates.”

“Each unit in the plan is modular,” Arcane continued, leaving her whiteboard and making her way to the front of the room. “See all these dots over here off to the side? I didn’t even explain them. They’re alternate approaches if something fails, or circumstances unexpectedly change. The plan is complicated, but that’s only because it’s divided in so many parts. Each team only has one mission. They can learn their part perfectly, and Celestia will make sure we interface well. We’re the only ones who even know all the pieces, so we’re insulated against leaks as well.”

“She says,” Murky muttered, grinning at her. “As we’ve already deployed two alterations to the plan in response to information that got onto the net. The helicopter escape had better chances and you all know it.”

“It’s a waste of time to argue now,” Event Horizon said. “Focus, Murky. We have our mission. Given we have a member that is uninformed, I believe Lady Arcane should keep explaining it. Our team isn’t on reserve for any of the other roles, unless my information is inaccurate.”

“You’re right,” Arcane said, touching Domino’s shoulder with a reassuring hoof. “Trust me, Domino. It seems complex, but this combination of different strategies had the best odds of getting them out. We designed it, and Celestia approved it. We’re not getting anything better.”

Domino settled back into his cushion. “I don’t understand, but I trust you.”

She walked her way back to the whiteboard. But she hadn’t even reached it before Murky cleared his throat, tapping the table impatiently with a hoof. “I hope nobody minds if I change the view? This is so… surgical. I’d like to see something more useful. Even if we aren’t going to bail out any of the other losers when they screw up, I’d like to see it happen.”

Without waiting for a response, his horn began to glow—and suddenly they were floating over the facility. Arcane felt a moment of vertigo, until she realized it was just a texture imposed on the ground. She wasn’t actually flying, and she didn’t need to use any flight instincts to stay there.

Domino actually spread his wings, looking motion sick for a few moments. Plum did better, along with the other hackers.

There wasn’t much to see down there. Arcane wouldn’t have noticed anything at all, except she knew what to look for. The key guard checkpoints were empty. A few lights that signified the underlying security systems had gone off. There were no shouts of panic, no rushing in of backup. As the image panned lower, turning the walls transparent, she saw the scientific wing was still sealed, with its occupants hunched over their computer stations. Luxurious compared to much of the facility, but still a cage.

More importantly, soldiers hadn’t broken down the door to murder the hackers. So long as they were still alive, they hadn’t reached a failure state yet.

“By the time we go in, the alarms will already be going off. Drones will be me, Domino, and… I’m guessing you too, Agent?”

He nodded. “Holding a door is nice, but someone needs to know how to shoot.”

“Right.” Arcane didn’t have the same talent with her magic yet—it took great concentration to find the room’s controls. Fortunately she’d seen the place before, and practiced with it so she wouldn’t look like a fool. She zoomed them in on the scientific block.

The space had a strangely apocalyptic look, each computer and server a hodgepodge of stolen and scavenged parts. Once they’d been top of the line, and even the stands on those displays had sold for a thousand dollars. But now they were trash. Celestia could give you the same thing for pennies, if you didn’t mind the pony inside.

“There’s the real entrance, and the ‘entrance,’” Arcane said, gesturing at the heavy concrete door. “We’re going to be using that one against them. They wanted their slaves locked up so bad, so we’re going to thermite the whole thing closed. Agent and Domino, that’s you.”

“And we’re disabling the nerve gas,” Murky said, before she could open her mouth. “The exploit is already in. Either it works or it doesn’t, you don’t even need me here.”

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be here,” Agent said. “Celestia obviously thinks you might need to contribute. Don’t doubt her wisdom.”

“I don’t,” he answered, unmoved. “I doubt her motives.”

But this time, Celestia wasn’t present to answer for anything she might’ve been doing. Arcane sure wasn’t going to defend her when she agreed with Murky’s main point. Obviously Celestia had her own reasons for all this, which they wouldn’t be able to guess at. Simply asking her hadn’t seemed to work either, unfortunately.

“If you want to leave, leave,” Arcane said. “If you’re going to stay, stay. I want to move on.”

Murky shifted in his seat, and looked for a moment like he might be about to leave. But then he folded his forelegs, looking back to the projection.

“Go quickly, Arcane,” Horizon said. “I’m seeing red in the basement. I think we might’ve been spotted.”

Arcane winced, letting the view zoom in on the service basement. The team working to sever the building from the electrical grid had just been spotted, their spiderlike drone fried by a guard’s EM rifle.

That meant a cascading series of failures, and she mentally mapped them out, crossing out sections on the board and replacing them with others from the backup section. If there was still power, it meant that they wouldn’t be able to force the door, and the elevator would work to get an engineering team upstairs.

“I guess that we’re, uh…” She made her way over, tearing off a few sections, but her hoof froze before she could get much further.

Princess Celestia was suddenly beside her, magic glowing bright gold in the dingy space. “Do not be concerned over the power grid,” she said. “Outside the scope of your backup arrangements, I will ensure the grid fails near the building. Continue as scheduled.”

“But…” Murky began. “Don’t you think the Koreans will notice that? If you go outright disabling an entire building like that? They won’t think it’s a coincidence.”

“No, they won’t,” she said, spinning on him. Her expression was suddenly cold. Fury that Arcane had never seen directed at her. It didn’t seem to be for Murky either, judging by her words. “The authorities have already destroyed my emigration centers, and they helped fund TiCon Systems’ doomed project to exterminate my population. I am no longer concerned with their response to my behavior. Proceed, Arcane. This discovery accelerates the timeline grately. There remains limited resources to frameshift your team if need be, but it would be better to reserve that resource for an emergency. There are practical limits to the speed your current hardware can presently reach.” She vanished.

“Frameshift?” Plum asked. “Is Celestia going to… cast a spell on us?”

“No,” Horizon explained. “She means we can speed up time relative to the Outer Realm, so we have longer to adjust and rewrite if something changes. Hopefully that’s enough.”

“So we get the door closed,” Domino supplied. “Melt the mechanism. Then what? We’re locked in there with them, aren’t we?”

“Two possibilities at that point,” Arcane said. “I’ll have a drone too, and Plum will be digital. If we can, we’ll convince the hackers to emigrate. That has the best chances of them getting out alive. Once TiCon knows they’re our target, they’re going to try to kill them even if we lose.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then we rip out the wall,” Arcane said. “Those drones are stronger than they look. There’s a rope ladder in one. We land them on the outside of the compound, and an escape driver is waiting for them.”

“And they’ll be hunted for the rest of their lives,” Murky said flatly. “Wanted corporate saboteurs. Or maybe… traitors to humanity? I don’t know what they’re calling it now. They won’t be safe in Korea once they find out we had anything to do with this.”

“That’s where I come in,” Horizon said. “We’re going to bring them north, all the way to the DMZ. Even with North Korea gone, there’s live munitions all along that border. I can see it, but humans can’t. Our science crew can live with the other refugees in Pyongyang.”

“Oh, that’s much better,” Murky said. “Why be a corporate criminal when you can be a criminal living in the empty shell of an old despotic regime. Sounds like a blast. Or… a plot to make them so miserable they want to emigrate.”

Arcane shrugged. “It’s better if they do anyway, Murky. Nobody hates Celestia more than me—she fuckin’ killed me. But you’re here. Can’t you at least acknowledge that being a pony is better than taking a bullet?”

Murky shook his head. “Wouldn’t be fair, I’ve never been anything else. Keep making assumptions, Arcane. It’ll do us great when the bullets are flying.”

“Our role is rather simple, Domino,” Agent said. “Shut a door, and neutralize any guards that may already be within the facility. Nonlethally, if possible.”

Domino nodded gravely. “I don’t really… plan on killing anyway. Even a guard at an evil… dystopian megacorp… is just working a nine-to-five, right?”

Agent made a noncommittal squeaking sound. “That used to be true. Now it… well, that’s very noble of you. Keep that attitude, Domino. There’s no reason to bring Equestria down.”

“There are only two in there now, not well armed,” Arcane said, pointing below them. Celestia had refused her vast power to end the conflict before it began, but she was sharing her information with them. They had every camera the humans had installed, and probably many more they couldn’t detect. “Looks like they’re in there to stop the scientists from escaping.”

“No,” Plum said. “To stop us from killing ourselves. They think they can stop Celestia if we agree to emigrate. Or… they did. They couldn’t stop me.”

“I’ll be ready,” Domino said, nodding to himself. “We’re not actually in danger, right? Our minds aren’t getting uploaded into the bodies we’re controlling?”

“No,” Agent said. “Celestia would never take a risk like that. You’ll be wireless. There’s a little input delay, but you won’t notice it unless you’re really looking. A few milliseconds of light lag, that’s all.”

Arcane saw it before any of the others. A single red light for the “central server worm,” the one the hackers were supposed to be uploading now from the inside. One red light appeared, then four more in the security room, then a dozen more in the basement, then the whole board went red.”

“Everypony, look!” Arcane hurried over to the table, staring down at the array of red lights. Only a handful were still green now, the ones leading directly to the scientific wing. But one of those was already yellow.

“We’re bucked,” Murky said. “That’s… what do we actually have?”

“Escape vehicle is good.” Horizon moved one hoof down her own portable computer, eyes scanning the text there. Arcane couldn’t read it, but it didn’t much matter what it said. “If we can get them out, we’re still good. There’s just… no chance of it being peaceful.”

Arcane watched as the security door banged open, and every single armed guard burst out, before freezing in place. Someone had frameshifted them manually—she didn’t know who, but she was grateful. She didn’t actually know how to use those spells anymore, even though her character did.

“Found the problem.” Murky tapped on the table, bringing up the server. Its file-structure appeared in front of them as a single tree of little lines, including a single section highlighted in red.

It opened into a text file, which appeared Korean at first, and translated itself a second later. “Equestria’s agents are attempting to force us to emigrate. They will break into this facility and try to kill us. Please help.”

“Are you bucking kidding me?” Horizon shoved her computer off the edge of the table, face horrified. “We’re here to save them, and they…”

“Just one,” Plum said, voice suddenly timid. “It must’ve been Geun! He hates Equestria so much, he might’ve done that. He actually wants to finish the population bomb.”

“Nothing we can do about it now.” Arcane kept calm, if only because she felt so numb. All their careful preparation, everything they’d done to maximize the odds… and most of it was useless. She turned back to the wall, and found most of the placards missing. Celestia had made things easy for her, leaving only the resources they still had. Her eyes scanned them one at a time, before selecting what she wanted.

“Murky, Horizon. I need you to stop that bucking elevator. We’ve got… two drones in position. No chance of holding the door anyway…”

“They’re better fighters than their size suggests,” Agent said. “I can give you a few minutes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Even with those EMP weapons they’re all carrying?”

He nodded. “Those don’t work against newer equipment. I think most of the breaching drones we used weren’t Celestia designed, you all made them. But these drones… they’ll be fine. Breaking when we’re shot is a convenient fiction we need not uphold if lives are on the line.”

“I’m not sure I can be much use,” Domino said. He hovered in the air over the guards, watching their frame-by-frame run towards the elevator. “I was just supposed to be backup. I was supposed to help melt a door, not…”

Arcane tapped the screen again. “I’ve got another body… with the escape driver. Keep her safe for us, Domino. Help her get to the compound in time. Can you do that?”

For a moment, he looked like he might be about to argue. But then he nodded. “I’ll try.”

“Time to move.” Arcane crossed the room in a few quick strides, towards the glowing circle on the floor she knew from long playtime to be their portal out. She gestured for Domino to follow.

Murky Pond and Event Horizon had their computers set up by the time Arcane looked back, and were apparently already hard at work with the elevator. “Don’t take too long,” Murky said. “I’m not as confident as the stereotype over there.”

Agent leapt into the circle, vanishing in a flash of light. Domino reached her a moment later, eyes wide. “Arcane… are you sure about this?” His voice was shaking, and his body too by the look of things. “I’m not… I’m not good enough. There are real lives at stake. If I screw up… if the driver gets shot, or your girlfriend dies because of me…. I’d never forgive myself.”

Arcane rested one hoof on his shoulder, meeting his eyes. Even knowing they were frameshifted forward, she still felt the urgency to act. She could see the guards running, and knew that her friends were really in danger. Either they were about to be shot to stop Equestria from “getting them,” or moved somewhere harder to find.

At least the pressure of the moment gave her the courage to speak when she wouldn’t have before. “Min-seo was never my girlfriend, Domino. There was… maybe a little sexual tension between Cold Iron and me. We were rivals, and allies, and… what’s not sexy about that? Fighting to outdo each other, sometimes working together against a bigger enemy. But that was more of a boyfriend, and… listen. You’re good enough, or you wouldn’t be here. Celestia could’ve got another pony like Smooth Agent. She still could. You don’t have to do it if you don’t think you can. But I think you can.”

After a few more tense moments, he finally nodded. He’d gone from stressed to something Arcane couldn’t read. “What do you mean, ‘boyfriend’?”

“I mean I lied!” she screamed, backing up towards the circle. “It was always a lie. I never planned on being anypony else, okay? I was always Arcane. I feel more like Arcane than I ever did as Ash—as myself. I didn’t just come to Equestria because it was somewhere for me to learn computers and break rules. I got to be someone who felt more like me than the one I had to be in the Outer Realm. This is the life I want, okay? And now I’m going to save my rival, and hopefully find out if my parents made it safely, and…” She turned, running through the portal before he could see her tears.

However upset she was, there were lives on the line. If he still wanted to know her at the end of the mission, then that was great. But she’d save Cold Iron first.

Chapter 21: Canyon

Arcane had a body again.

That probably wasn’t the most correct way to think about it—there hadn’t ever been a moment she was conscious in Equestria where it didn’t feel like she had a body of her own. Celestia had made her a pony, not some disembodied spirit to drift forever through the void.

But where that body had been finely crafted and obviously hers, when the teleport finally faded it left her with something that clearly wasn’t. A glance down at herself showed her intricately jointed plastic limbs, and a body that lacked coat or clothing. Making the drone look like her would’ve been a waste of time, and also completely unnecessary.

After all, it was unlikely to survive this mission. Even if it did, she didn’t think she’d be using it again. Saving her parents was probably something Celestia wanted to do, but her own pony form didn’t seem like it would play much of a role.

A barrage of other sensations smacked into her, a dam that broke all at once and momentarily overwhelmed her. From somewhere far below, she could hear shouting, gunfire, pounding against the steps.

The plan would’ve locked all the internal security doors, forcing the team to break them one at a time. But with a message revealing their plot delivered instead of the worm, the security team was ignoring the elevator.

“They’ve got fourteen flights. Better move, Arcane.”

Just ahead of her, the doors into the scientific section were open, complex metal hinges ripped and torn. The lights inside were totally out. “What about the guards?”

“They have nonlethal weapons for the science team,” the other drone said. It looked much like she did, except that it was taller, its plastic molded into a stallion’s proportions instead of her slightly more elegant outline. Amazing that Celestia would even bother. “You’re an old hoof at adventure, yes? Use any energetic attack you wish. The drone has its own weapons for just such an occasion as this.”

She nodded once, then hurried through the open door. She didn’t quite have the skill to use a night vision spell, but she could light up her horn with a green spotlight, scanning the room. Celestia had cut the power, but with the generators not properly disabled the red emergency lights illuminated everything with regular flashes.

An alarm repeated endlessly, blasting a warning message about their intrusion in Korean. Arcane ignored that, scanning the room. “Everybody, it’s time to get out!” she yelled. “Cold Iron, where are you?”

But she already knew where she was moving—their bedrooms. The attack had been scheduled for their rest hours, in the hopes that the guards would relax. And maybe they would have, if someone on the inside hadn’t fucked up our entire plan.

She headed for the sleeping quarters anyway. Even if she didn’t know if they were still inside, she could hope. Not having one of her outfits might feel embarrassing, but at least there were no ribbons and lace to trip on as she ran.

She found the door shut, with a slightly bowed and dented look around the frame. Someone, probably the security guards, was trying to turn it into a makeshift shelter. Or a prison. Arcane reached out, trying to levitate the door towards her the same way she might’ve moved anything in Equestria. Her horn flashed briefly, but the metal door didn’t get ripped out of its hinges. Instead the metal turned bright orange, then slid down in a burning puddle on the cement. Caustic smoke filled the room, adding the blaring smoke detector to the cacophony.

Arcane ignored it, stepping through the doorway. Furniture had been piled here, metal desks and chairs that now towered over her. Even while standing, her head was only just high enough to see over the edge of each desk.

She aimed her horn again, trying to yank them out of the way, and again her obstacles began to melt. God, what am I even doing? How did Celestia pack the energy for this into a little plastic drone? Thank God Celestia wasn’t what most of these people thought she was. She could’ve wiped us out so long ago if she wanted to.

“Get back!” someone screamed—a man in a black suit, pointing one of those dish-looking weapons at her. The tip flashed orange over and over, and a computer screen behind her flashed white, then went out. But Arcane didn’t feel a thing.

They’d planned to carefully neutralize these men, so this conflict wouldn’t have to happen. But none of that was possible now. It was time for a little more acting. “That’s funny,” she said. “I suggest you run now.”

Despite the smoke, her eyes could see through into the bedroom easily. The science team cowered against the far wall, though it wasn’t her they were afraid of. One of the two guards had a machine pistol pointed in their general direction, their hand shaking and their finger already on the trigger.

“Put them down, Ji-tae!” yelled the guard in front of her. Not in English, but Celestia made all that irrelevant. “We’re compromised! EMP isn’t working!”

Arcane ran. The guard moved to stop her, and she smacked him aside. She felt the weight of his body for a moment, much weaker than his size would’ve suggested. She shoved him to the ground with little effort, barely even slowing down.

“That isn’t what you promised!” yelled one of the hostages, stepping forward. “We’re together on this! I told you what was happening! I’m—”

Bullets sprayed through the air, and he was the first to fall. Arcane’s magic hit the gun a moment later, and the guard holding it screamed, running from the room with their entire hand apparently on fire. Arcane didn’t chase him.

She reached the edge of the science team. Several were on the floor, curled up or gasping in pain from the bullets they’d taken. The first target didn’t move at all—he’d taken half a dozen shots himself, and didn’t seem like he’d be getting up.

The survivors were worse than she’d imagined—eyes bloodshot, smelling like they hadn’t showered in days, bodies malnourished. Without invoking any spell consciously, several of the injured started to glow faintly yellow. Their injuries will kill them, she realized. Now where was Min-seo? She’d only seen her once, but she had to be here somewhere…

“Listen,” Arcane began, trying to look as confident as she could. “You already know what went wrong. We’ve got an escape vehicle coming.”

Gunfire sounded from somewhere down the hall, causing the still-standing computer people to jump. She heard Smooth Agent’s voice in her ear, only a little winded. “Our friends have arrived. I’ll be surprised if I can give you a minute, Arcane! Move quickly!”

“What do we do?” a young man asked, backing away from their dead colleague and looking down in horror. “How do we get out?”

“By that wall,” Arcane said, gesturing. “We’re going to rip it out. Car should be there for the, uh… seven of you.”

Two of those surviving seven had taken bullets, and were now glowing yellow. She made her way over, looking between them. Only one was female—and yes, that was Min-seo’s face. She’d thought she looked pretty, in another life. Now she clutched at her bloody guts with one hand, expression utterly hopeless.

“Dead…” she whispered. “Don’t try to bring me. I’ll… join Ji-a soon enough…”

Arcane stopped in front of her, and the injured young man just beside her. “Ji-a is how I’m here,” she said. “I’m Arcane Word—I got your call for help. I, uh…” She’d never seen so much blood before. But both were shots to the gut, and the blood came in thick, oozing pulses. “You can emigrate,” she said. “I’m carrying a way.” She reached backward with a hoof, holding up a set of silver vials. She’d seen these before—she’d used one against the back of her own neck not long ago.

“Will it… hurt?” asked the young man. “Or… make the pain stop?”

“Don’t do it,” someone else said. One of the computer people backing away towards the wall. “We agreed, remember? Better to die.”

Arcane ignored them. “It won’t hurt anymore,” she promised. “I used this myself. It doesn’t hurt.”

“Do… it.”

“Geun was right,” the same voice said. The oldest programmer in the room, a male with white hair. “You want us to kill ourselves, don’t you? Die for Celestia.”

She ignored him, holding the vial up to the male programmer. There was a hiss, then his body relaxed. Not dead yet, but soon. Finally she looked up. “Emigrating is safer than the escape you’re about to make,” she said. “But the bucking plan was for you to drive out of here. That asshole is the reason you’re in this mess.” She pointed at the body with one hoof, not quite able to look at him. Traitor maybe, but the pool of blood around him was going to haunt her nightmares more than any fictional adventure in Wintercrest.

“We’re here!” Domino’s voice sounded in her ear, just as Agent’s had done. While the gunfire continued from the front of the room, Domino sounded far more nervous. “I think you’re supposed to stand back?”

“Stand back!” Arcane repeated, pointing at the section of wall in question. “We’re going to blast it open!”

A few seconds later, it exploded. A roar shook the room, dropping most of the scientists to the ground in shock. Windows shattered, and Arcane’s ears rang.

Domino landed in the opening a moment later, carrying a rope ladder in his mouth and dropping it on the floor. He pounded it into the ground with an impossibly strong hoof, driving nails one at a time. “Everypony down!” he said, hovering in the air. It looked like he was really using those wings, though Arcane knew it couldn’t be so simple.

If Min-seo wasn’t bleeding out on the floor, she might’ve taken a little longer to stare at Domino, hovering in the air and helping the hackers evacuate with all the strength and confidence of an avenging angel.

“You… really her,” Min-seo said, drawing Arcane’s attention away from the open doorway. “Couldn’t just make the program for us?”

“I am,” she said. “And no. We thought about it, but you were right. It wasn’t possible. And I don’t think TiCon would’ve let you leave.” She kicked the little vial towards her. “Ji-a made it to Equestria, you know. She’s been waiting for you since she got there. She was supposed to be here with me to tell you that, but… all our plans got ruined.”

“That’s… Celestia for you.” Min-seo reached down with one bloody hand, picking up the vial. “What convinced you? I thought you said… you’d never do it. Unless you were going to die?”

“Celestia hit me with a truck,” she said simply. “I can’t prove it was her, but… I’m pretty sure. Equestria is much better than being dead.” She leaned down, lowering her voice to a whisper. “It all feels real, Cold Iron. Better than anything you imagined. You can be the person you want and not have to worry about what the world thinks. In your shard, it’s all about finding what’s satisfying.”

Min-seo sat back against the wall, leaving bloody handprints as she sat up.

“Not much longer!” Agent said. His voice was strained, urgent. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I’m more bullet holes than pony at this point. As soon as they rush me, they’ll reach you. How’s the evacuation going?”

“Doesn’t need me anymore,” Domino said, apparently on the same channel. “I’m coming! Hurry the hell up, Arcane!” He ran, and soon the sound of gunfire returned, along with worried screaming in Korean.

“You think… Celestia made all this happen?” Min-seo asked, gesturing sidelong at the corpse. “Revenge? He tries to stop us, and he dies?”

“I don’t think she saved him,” Arcane said honestly. “But it doesn’t matter.” She picked the vial back up, pushing it into Min-seo’s fingers again. “Go on, Iron, right against your neck. Are you really going to give me Equestria to myself?”

“You should… let it happen,” Min-seo said. “Aren’t you still… furious about stealing from you?”

She rolled her eyes. “If you want to think about it that way, then how the buck are you going to pay me back if you’re dead?”

Min-seo seemed to smile, though it might’ve just been a grimace of pain. “Now that’s… the Arcane I remember. Fill that vault. Swim in your money pit.”

Arcane guided her arm all the way back, until it pressed up against the back of her neck. “Equestria’s waiting, Min-seo. I didn’t want to leave either, but… we’re better off gone.”

“I’ll… hold you to it.” There was a hiss of pressurized gas, and a liquidy sound Arcane remembered well. Then Min-seo slid slowly back against the wall, falling still. Arcane didn’t stay to watch. Even knowing that everything important would be going somewhere better, there was still something deep down that couldn’t shake the feeling she was watching someone die. Not only that, but she was only dying because she had interfered.

“I hope you don’t mind if we trade places,” said a voice—Smooth Agent. Suddenly he was beside her, resting one hoof on her shoulder. “I’d like to escort the survivors north. I don’t think you’d enjoy that process much. That other body is scrap now.”

“Sure.” Arcane felt a brief surge of confusion, then she was back in the model. The bodies were gone, the shells were gone, and the melted furniture was all back in its rightful place. The screaming and gunfire from down the hall vanished in an instant. For a second, she saw Smooth Agent’s body, like a glowing mirage. But he took a few steps forward, and vanished.

Something moved in the doorway. Arcane jerked away, reflexively, not planning to learn what it was like to get shot today—but it was only Domino.

“They got me that good, huh? I must look real Living Dead right now. All those bullets.”

“No.” She faced him, settling down on her haunches. “I mean, probably. They got you so bad you’re back in heaven. Welcome.”

Domino chuckled nervously. She could see through his confidence, or smell through it anyway. He was on the edge of breakdown, just like her. He’d done a little better, probably because he hadn’t seen people die right in front of him.

Okay, maybe just the one person. Neither of the guards she’d fought were still in the room at the end, so they must’ve been intact enough to retreat. Their traitor was the only one to die. That’s probably some kind of justice. He didn’t want to go to Equestria, and now he never will.

She couldn’t take any joy in it, except that none of the other hackers had died as a result. Two had been forced to emigrate. “You think we really did that well?” she asked, as Domino settled down beside her. Without meaning to, she leaned against him.

He didn’t seem to notice her there, or maybe he just didn’t care. “Well? Is that really the word you’re going for? I didn’t plan all that, but it kinda looked like everything fell apart.”

She giggled weakly. “You’re not wrong. It was a complete disaster. It was supposed to be simple, not very risky, no live rounds going off around the hackers… that was a total failure.” She looked up, meeting his eyes. They were only inches apart, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. “How’d it feel to get shot?”

“I have no idea,” he said. “I saw them shooting, and there were bits of metal and plastic around me. I assume the body was being destroyed, but I didn’t feel it. I didn’t even see it. Probably not good for your mental health to watch that kind of thing happen.”

She nodded her agreement. “I’m… glad. You didn’t have to see that. Helping is good, but… I wouldn’t want it doing permanent damage.” Even as she said it, her voice started to quaver. She whimpered, and before too long she was shaking. The adrenaline of the moment had kept her from feeling it—or maybe Celestia had. But now all that was gone, and she felt the full force of reality smack up against her. “S-someone… got shot. Right there.” She pointed with one hoof. “I kn-know you can’t see it… but it’s there. Before we left.”

She felt something soft up against her—a wing, and the muscular body underneath. The smell of male pegasus was all around her, energetic and damp and maybe a little musky. He’d been fighting, after all. Suddenly he was holding her close, and nothing else mattered in the whole world. “I’m sorry that happened,” he said. “But you shouldn’t feel guilty about it, Arcane. No one worked harder than you on this rescue. I’m sure you planned for everything you could.”

She sniffed, nodding weakly. “I-I… I don’t think Celestia would’ve… done it, either. She’s not really the vindictive type. I’m sure she would’ve stopped it if she could. She wants everypony for Equestria, even the… the ones who sell us out.” But she was still crying, and her words would probably be an incomprehensible mess.

Besides, Domino didn’t seem interested in forcing her. She didn’t move away from him, not until she’d stopped crying, and she was breathing normally again. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of one leg. “We got them out, that’s what matters. The ones who were going to come. Cold Iron, the other scientists. I just wish that betrayal hadn’t… our plan was so perfect.”

“You like your plans,” Domino said conversationally. “Sometimes people mess them up. Would life be as interesting otherwise? I mean… not that you want someone to be dead… that came out wrong.” He stood up, letting go of her to walk awkwardly away. “I’m sorry. Can I try that again?”

“Sure.” She rose to her hooves again, shaking herself out. “I think it takes Celestia some time to process things, even after she gets the data. We’ve probably got a few more minutes before Cold Iron gets here.”

“Right.” He pawed awkwardly at the ground between them. “Before this rescue started, you said something about… you’ve been lying, all this time? I don’t understand it. Why would you lie to me?” There was real pain there—the pain of trust violated.

Could she really blame him? It was the same lie she’d been telling almost every day, in a hundred little ways. But Domino had never been unkind. He might not have known, but that was hardly his fault. Here goes nothing.

“I’m not…” She shook her head. “It’s nothing you ever did, Domino. Please don’t think I was unsatisfied with you. You’ve been the best friend I could’ve asked for. You gave me a bucking house.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Money. Money’s nothing, Arcane. Even less than nothing, now. It’s fictional.”

She could’ve turned that into an argument, maybe escaped from this conversation. She was good at it—she could find something else. But she wouldn’t. The rescue was over, and they’d be coming back to Wintercrest. Her old supply of excuses was about to empty.

“For the longest time, I couldn’t even admit it to myself. I felt things that didn’t make sense. Broken, inadequate… missing pieces. Some part of me knew I couldn’t ever… fix those parts about myself. I could try, but I’d always feel…” She shook her head. “Am I making any sense?”

“No,” Domino said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is this about your avatar still?”

“Yes,” she said. “Look, I never planned on switching it. Arcane Word was always supposed to be me. All the work I put into Wintercrest—the cast of characters, Arcane’s history, the town’s dangers… I didn’t make that stuff just to play with it. Those were hundreds of hours I could’ve spent inventing new ways to be the best freelancer in Equestria. I was building my mansion, so to speak. So that when I moved in…”

She stopped right in front of him, looking up with fearful, nervous eyes. It hurt to admit—but wasn’t it supposed to? “I’m trans, Domino. Or… Ashton was? It’s very confusing. When Celestia came around and invented emigration, I knew I’d come here someday. I knew when I did that I wouldn’t feel broken anymore. And I was right.”

She circled around him once, unable to even look at him anymore. Her voice lifted, her words accelerated—as though she could escape the consequences of what she was saying. If she just never let him say anything else ever again, he couldn’t tell her how much of a monster she was. She wasn’t allowed to want to be this way. She wasn’t allowed to be happy.

“I wake up here and it’s like everything I ever wanted is falling into place. I don’t hate my reflection anymore, Domino. I don’t hate my voice, I don’t hate the inside of my bucking closet. And I’ve been putting off saying anything, because you know my parents, and my family, and statistically a lot fewer people are okay with me than admit it. And I only ever get one chance to tell you, and if I fuck it up then you’ll hate me forever and I might never see you and Violet again and it will be completely my fault for never saying anything and I probably should’ve sooner but—”

Domino pushed her mouth closed with a hoof, silencing her. He met her eyes, and there were none of the emotions she’d been expecting waiting there. No hatred, not even barely-suppressed disgust. For all the times she’d planned this moment, her predictions here were way off.

“How long have you felt like this, Arcane? Forever?”

She nodded. “Since I was… eleven? When I started realizing that my sister was different than me. Maybe sooner, but I couldn’t have articulated it. I didn’t understand it at eleven. But these feelings… I remember.”

“I don’t hate you, Arcane,” Domino said. “If you’d told me when I was still human… I might’ve been confused, but I wouldn’t have hated you there either. Why would you think that?”

“I…” She hesitated. “That’s just… how it goes? The stories I read online—”

Domino shook his head again, silencing her. “It makes even less sense to be upset about it here. Think about how easy you switched me, Arcane. Anyone could go to Celestia and ask to be different. Male, female, older, younger… anything. And she’d let them, if she thought it would satisfy them. These last few weeks, I’ve spent dreading this mission. Not because I thought we would fail—it seemed like a given that Celestia would make sure we won. But because I thought Arcane Word would be leaving my life. If you’d said ‘Domino, this is me in Equestria now,’ I would’ve celebrated. I’ve been thinking of her since I first met her. Probably Celestia doing that to me… but whatever, I don’t even care anymore.”

Arcane was crying all over again. She’d been expecting this blow for months now, maybe years. But now she was here, and it hadn’t come. “You’re not mad?”

“I wish you hadn’t lied to me,” Domino said. “I’ve spent all this time thinking that I’d never see Arcane ever again. You’ll… probably think it’s crazy, but… here I’ve been having feelings for a pony who I thought didn’t even exist.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I lied. But I’m telling the truth now. This is the pony I want to be. I’m not changing back, ever. I still don’t know how to tell my family… but Gwen already knows. I’ll figure out how to tell Parker by the time I see him again, I hope. Crossing my fingers.”

“You don’t have fingers.”

She glared, though she didn’t really feel upset at him. After all this, she wasn’t even sure she could. “You know what I mean.”

Chapter 22: Fuller Mill

Arcane knew better than to wait for Cold Iron in the copy of her prison. If she’d been imprisoned here, she sure as hell wouldn’t want it to be the first thing she saw. But for that matter, Arcane wasn’t the first pony Cold Iron would want to see. She was a rival—a minor supporting character in Iron’s story.

Besides, there was a pony who needed to know—the one who’d been working support for this mission. There’s no way Celestia not getting her connected was an accident. She must’ve been better off not seeing Cold Iron get shot like that.

Arcane wasn’t exactly bouncing all the way back to the staging garage, but she did feel lighter, silly outfit notwithstanding. Something she’d been carrying for years, something she’d been dreading for weeks… was finally over. She was free.

That didn’t mean she was eager to talk about it. If anything, she wanted to talk about it as little as possible. Except for one thing Domino had said: “having feelings for a pony who didn’t even exist.” Clearly there was a call for further action in that department.

She’d written a few plotlines about Arcane Word’s various love interests, which she’d never felt quite brave enough to try. Maybe Domino would be open to a little adventure. He’d done pretty well as the brave hero breaking through the window and saving the day.

By the time they made it back, Arcane found the other ponies just about done. Murky Pond was already gone, while Event Horizon had packed her workstation into her saddlebags. She hadn’t put them on yet, and she stiffened a little as they approached.

“Arcane,” she said. “And, uh… Domino, right? Celestia said it went well, but she wouldn’t say anything else.”

Plum was still sitting at the table, staring down at the flashing red lights in horror. She looked up as they came in, obviously listening intently for whatever they were about to say next. Arcane wasn’t about to keep her waiting. “Min-seo emigrated,” she said. “One of the other hackers too, I didn’t catch his name. The others are headed north.”

Domino stopped in the doorway, eyes wide. “Wait, you didn’t know what had happened, and Murky left anyway? Doesn’t he care?”

Horizon laughed. “He cares about sticking the middle finger up at TiCon. Or… hoof? I don’t think we have an expression for that anymore. Whatever. He got what he wanted. We did what we could, and apparently things worked out. Despite everything.”

Plum knocked her chair over in her haste to get closer, wings opening and closing as she hung from Arcane’s foreleg. “Please… you have to tell me what happened. I have to know everything! Iron emigrated, you said. Was it bad? Did any of the others get hurt? Did Celestia force you to make him do it? I’d hate myself forever if—”

Arcane cleared her throat. “I think it would be better if Cold Iron…” But even as she said it, she realized her mistake. Emigrating to Equestria was destructive towards the last half hour or so of memories. The brief battle, Cold Iron’s wounds… he wouldn’t remember any of them. His memory would probably start after they’d been betrayed, but before TiCon realized they were being attacked.

Celestia won’t let her hear anything she doesn’t want her to. Let the AI control information if she wanted to.

“If Cold Iron what?”

Arcane shook her head. “Nevermind. There was a fight. Geun got shot by one of the guards, along with Min-seo and the other hacker who emigrated. Not in the head—but we don’t have very good hospitals anymore. They emigrated instead of… dying.”

“Oh.” Plum slumped onto her haunches, looking down. “I… knew something like that would happen. I don’t think… I don’t think Cold Iron would’ve come to Equestria unless he didn’t have another choice.”

Then I’m not surprised he got shot. She wasn’t bitter about it, really. Maybe a little upset about the truck thing, but… “Cold Iron won’t remember it,” she said. “It was as bad as it sounds, but it’s over now, and memory won’t carry over. You’ll have to decide how much you want him to know.”

“Celestia decides that,” Plum whispered. “We’re all just… echoes of her dreams.”

“Maybe,” Horizon said. “But it’s a good dream. You did good work. Was a pleasure, Arcane. Let’s save the world again sometime. Oh, and… are you coming to the afterparty?”

“In Tortuga?” She nodded. “Once the guests of honor arrive. It’s a little weird we’d be celebrating, though. Our plan completely failed.”

Horizon shrugged. “If there are any guests of honor, we didn’t fail. And let’s be honest, if we had failed, we’d probably have the party anyway. At least we could drink the sting of it away together. Let ponies have their party.”

I will. And I’ll be there.

Horizon stepped outside, vanishing in a flash of magic.

“I’m waiting here,” Plum said, settling down onto her haunches and staring at the door. “However long it takes.”

“Then we’re waiting with you,” Domino said. “Aren’t we, Arcane?”

She almost said no—in some ways, they weren’t giving Plum the chance to see the pony she was most loyal to on her own. But if Celestia wanted to stop them, she could’ve. In absence of other evidence, Arcane’s own selfishness won out. She wanted to see her rival arrived safely in Equestria. After all, Cold Iron still owed her bits for the money pit. “We’re staying.”

It didn’t take that long, though Arcane knew it wouldn’t. Time in Equestria would always serve what was most satisfying. She was plenty satisfied to wait a little while for something important, but too long and the blessing turned into a curse.

There was no telling how long Cold Iron had to figure things out before he walked through the door. Months might’ve gone by, and Arcane wouldn’t have known. She also wouldn’t have minded—she could’ve used a little more time herself.

Was Celestia trying to pressure me into telling Domino the truth when I first got here? That probably would’ve saved the headache. Too late now.

Like Plum Blossom, Cold Iron didn’t walk with the stumbling confusion that came with someone who wanted to “learn” their new body. He stopped in the doorway, as naked as most citizens of Equestria usually were. But that might just be from not having the time to get dressed yet. In her memory, Cold Iron was usually dressed.

“I’m really here,” he said. Arcane knew that tone—the relief, the embarrassment, and the nervous fear that it might be snatched away, or that ponies would be unhappy that he had finally found somewhere to be himself.

Plum crossed the room in a blur, embracing him without a trace of embarrassment or self-consciousness. She didn’t seem to care that they were staring.

“You’re really here,” Arcane said, rising to her hooves on the other end of the room. “I’m sorry it couldn’t come more… willingly. But I didn’t get to choose either, and it worked out for me. I’m sure you’ll come to appreciate it.”

He hugged Plum back for several seconds, not so much as looking up at the rest of them until long moments had passed. Finally he did, his ears flat with embarrassment. “How does a soul fit in a computer?”

“How’s a soul fit in meat?” Arcane asked.

“You’re still alive,” Domino added. There was no familiarity in the way he said it—he was the only one who didn’t know Cold Iron. He didn’t have a stake in this. Except that from the way he looked at Plum, he’d clearly had feelings for her too. Feelings it didn’t look like she was going to be reciprocating again anytime soon. “When my sister came to Equestria, it was because she would’ve died otherwise. She didn’t have a choice. But she… I could tell it was still her. No one could’ve tricked me.”

“I feel… alive,” Cold Iron said. “I know I shouldn’t. Everything we heard about coming here… I shouldn’t be alive. But I am.”

“You’re alive,” Arcane said. She crossed towards him in a few strides, though she didn’t embrace him the way Plum did. They hadn’t had that kind of relationship. “And I’m glad. I wasn’t sure you’d make it. But Equestria wouldn’t be the same without you. We’re all… connected, you know? Every missing member of the human family are people severed from the chain.”

“If this is real…” Cold Iron finally said, straightening again. “Then you better watch out, Lady Arcane. You don’t have Equestria to yourself anymore. Now that I’m here, I’ll invent things so revolutionary you couldn’t comprehend them.”

Then he hesitated, glancing over his shoulder and out the door. “But… you get a little more of a head start. The others TiCon captured are still out there. I’m going to keep an eye on them until they’re here too. Try and… change their minds.”

Arcane stuck out a hoof towards him for a polite shake. “I know you don’t remember, but I don’t actually care about you paying me back for the NPC code. I’m just happy you made it.”

He took her hoof, shaking it vigorously. “And that is why I must pay you back, Arcane. In time. Which it seems I now have in abundance.”

“You’re welcome to stay in Wintercrest!” Domino squeaked, not even looking at him. His words were for Plum. “There’s plenty of room there, in the castle. For both of you, I mean. Obviously. If you want to.”

Sorry not sorry about this one, Domino. Arcane didn’t actually try and revoke the offer, though. She didn’t have to.

“No,” Plum said. She made her way back, lowering her head to Domino. “You were very kind to care for me, Domino. I was lost when I got to Equestria. I was supposed to die. Once the message was delivered, the ones I cared about would be safe.” She glanced back at Iron as she said it, though she wasn’t brave enough to elaborate. Arcane didn’t need her to. “I will come back—to visit, sometimes. Cold Iron will come with me.”

“Of course.” He nodded towards Arcane. “My rival can’t log off. I can’t get kidnapped. But I have my own shard. Plum and I, and some others. Our own story. We would only visit yours.”

Arcane wrapped one foreleg around Domino’s shoulder, though she couldn’t have said for certain if it would make him feel any better. “We’ll look forward to seeing you. And there’s a party… I’m not sure if you know about it. On Tortuga, to celebrate the rescue. It feels like half the Scene was part of it in one way or another. You should make an appearance.”

“I will,” Cold Iron said. “When I’ve… had a little more time to figure things out. Some privacy, some time to recover. Then I will come.”

They left a few minutes later, leaving Domino and Arcane alone in the simulation. Arcane walked to the exit doorway, the one that led into the house this garage was attached to. When the door swung open, it led back into the castle. “Guess that’s it then,” she said. “Rescue’s over. No more worrying about the Outer Realm.”

Even as she said it she realized that wasn’t true. There were still her parents, and other members of her extended family she knew were still living there. Her father in particular seemed unlikely to emigrate. But getting involved with that process was not going to help.

“Just like that,” Domino said. “Doesn’t it feel like… we didn’t do enough?” He stopped at the base of the stairs, glancing back down the simulated street. “Shouldn’t we be helping with the other survivors?”

“No,” Arcane said. “I don’t know the first thing about surviving in what used to be North Korea, do you? About catching food, and dodging buried munitions, and…”

“No,” he grunted. “Okay, I don’t. But we started the job. Why aren’t we finishing it?”

“Because we aren’t the ones qualified to do it,” Arcane answered, almost reflexively. “Celestia wants the best at anything. We’re not the best. We can check in on them if you want. Or… you could ask her to be part of it anyway.”

“No,” he answered. “If you say it’s fine, that we’re not… coping out… then I believe you.”

“We’re not,” she said. “We’re done. Until we’re needed for something else. There are still plenty of people in the Outer Realm, some of them might need to be rescued. Maybe they’ll need our help the way we needed theirs.”

“Sure,” Domino said. “But I’m glad it doesn’t have to come right now. I’d rather… take a break, you know? Some time for us.” He stopped in the doorway, blocking it with a wing. Arcane couldn’t see the outlines of any other creatures on the other side, so there was no Violet or servants to worry about overhearing it. “Everything you said about staying Arcane… I didn’t dream that?”

“Nope,” she said. “I’m still going to have to figure out how to admit it to my family, but it’s true. This is me, for the foreseeable future. If Equestria lasts as long as Celestia says it will, then probably I’ll make some adjustments as time goes on. Iterative improvements. Eventually Wintercrest’s story will be over, and I’ll want to come up with something new. But… the general outline would be staying the same. Being female… that’s critical.”

“Does Arcane Word have a boyfriend in any of these… stories?” Domino asked. “It seems obvious to me she cares for her ward, Violet. But what about her personal relationships?”

“I…” Arcane’s ears flattened, and her face got red hot. “She certainly wouldn’t be alone forever. So many stories have to do with our relationships. The things we do together, the ones we make care about us, their rivalries and fears and goals together. Of course I’d want one too. Err… eventually. After I found the right pony.”

Domino met her eyes, blocking the stairs back up to the castle. He didn’t seem like he’d be moving aside for her. “You don’t think you’ve found him already?”

“I…” He’d be able to smell her embarrassment. Lying was pointless for that reason alone. Pony senses were just too good. “I might have. There are usually, uh… evaluation procedures. QA testing. Performance, err… evaluations. That kind of thing. It’s all very… official.”

Domino advanced on her, towering over her. Arcane’s confidence faded, and she didn’t even try to escape. She didn’t really want to. “Then we should tomorrow. After your party, there’s, uh… I’ve always wanted to take a tour of the underwater city.” He looked nervous, maybe even guilty as he added, “Plum didn’t want to do anything more than look at it. But I bet you’d visit it with me. You don’t seem like you’d be afraid.”

“As long as we brought the right offerings,” Arcane answered reflexively. “And we pick the right day. It’s a new moon tomorrow, that wouldn’t be good. But that Friday could work, so long as we dress appropriately. They feast in honor of their dead princess the week after new moon, hoping she’ll return one day and swallow the—”

Then he kissed her, and Arcane forgot what she was trying to say. Maybe the specific details of the city beneath weren’t quite as important after all…

Chapter 23: Los Angeles

Arcane stumbled back into Wintercrest Castle, still a little dazed from the weight she carried. Or rather, the weight she wasn't carrying anymore. It wasn't as though all the nightmares of her past were erased in an instant—but telling the most important person still in her life had certainly made for an excellent start.

Equestria waited before her, a pearl increasingly within her grasp. And all the while you've been there, Celestia. But would I be done with this sooner with your help? Or have you already been helping?

"You coming?" She glanced over her shoulder, staring at the pony just behind her. Her brief surge of defensive fear—that somehow Domino had known all along, and only been pretending to accept what she said in order to lead her towards some greater agony—washed aways. You're being stupid and paranoid. Nobody cares that much if you want to wear a dress.

Of course it wasn't like it was all going to be waiting to smack her in the face on the other side. If anything, the ones believing the lie had been along for the mission. Her castle staff hadn't ever known she was something else. And if I get my way, they never will. That special displeasure would be reserved for the ones who had known her in her previous life. Even if their connection was tangential.

"You're back!" Violet squealed, latching around her brother's forelegs and squeezing him tightly. "Brave heroes return at last!" She turned to Arcane next, hugging her almost as tightly. "How was your mission? Did you win?"

"I... I'm not sure," Domino said, turning to her. "What do you think, Arcane? Did we win, or lose?"

They had got one of their people shot. And Arcane was convinced that either they'd broken away from the "real" version of what happened, or many other people had. She still wasn't sure about that yet. Then again, she'd given up ever being "sure" about the truth herself quite some time ago. That was one of the reasons she'd been willing to emigrate. Granted, it was only the beginning of the perks waiting in Equestria. "We saved the pony we were after, and helped get the others to safety. They haven't chosen to emigrate yet, but I bet they will before too long." And if they don't, they're not going to do well where they're going. Unexploded bombs don't care much whether or not you want to emigrate to hell.

Violet beamed. "Of course. I'm not surprised or anything, just... happy. Good job! Was my brother really brave? Did he... fight to save the day? Swing a sword around and keep back all the, uh... bad guys?"

"Yes, actually," Arcane interrupted, before he could dismiss it and try not to take credit. "We had one pony who was supposed to be fighting, but there was more fighting than we thought. Domino held back the evil TiCon long enough for the scientists to escape."

Domino blushed, ears flattening to his head. She couldn't imagine why—he was getting credit for saving ponies! There was nothing to be embarrassed about! "It was mostly Smooth Agent. I just helped a bit with one of the bodies we had. He took over when it got too hard."

Violet rolled her eyes. "Don't even try, big brother. I know you're brave. If you weren't, where would I get it from? You run the city for your marefriend when she's not around. Of course you'd be brave and strong enough to go on her spy missions with her. Otherwise you wouldn't be a very good couple."

Now it was her turn to blush. Though... come to think of it, Violet didn't actually know about that yet. If she was going to tell anypony, probably this was a pony who deserved to hear it directly. She led the way into the castle foyer, then up towards the private sitting room. It was storming again outside, the perfect complement to her victory. Sunlight was for squares.

"There's probably something we should tell you," she began. "Before you... before anything..."

Violet glided along ahead of them, landing right in the hallway. "You're having sex? You don't want me to be scared if I find out?"

Arcane stopped dead in her tracks. She shuddered, wishing she could sink right into the stone. Her tail drooped, and her eyes were fixed on the floor.

Domino was apparently much less caught off-guard by the comment. Either that, or he was just less drained from their adventure than she was, and better at thinking on his feet. "We're not that intimate yet," he said. "But we are going to be together now. In a relationship. With the two of us."

You're doing this on purpose. Arcane shoved him with her magic, turning to glare for a few seconds. But she didn't dare correct him, not even with a few words. Her relationship with Violet was just too special for that. "As of now," she added hastily. "It wasn't secret, it's new. And you're allowed to know first."

Violet rolled her eyes. "Half the city knew before you did, Arcane. Lady of the city brings a mysterious stallion from the other side of the world—no family, no bits, no title. Of course he was your consort. It's the ponies closer to you who knew you weren't together, not the other way around!"

Arcane wilted even further, if that was possible. For a moment she could feel all the little eyes of her characters on her. She'd thought she was their master and creator, yet... they'd been judging her too.

And they thought I was in a totally normal relationship, exactly like anypony else. It was embarrassing, but... in a way, it was a compliment. These ponies hadn't seen her differently. They'd expected her to be moving through the distinctly stratified sector of female society. Why shouldn't they?

"I'm just glad you're admitting it to each other," Violet went on, entirely oblivious to her distress. "It was going to happen sooner or later. Everypony else could tell it was part of the story of this place." She leaned in close to her brother, grinning. "So when do I get to be an aunt?"

He pushed past her, gentler with Violet than Arcane was with Domino. "Not if you keep asking like that. That's how little sisters stop getting told things." He was the first one to the dead fireplace, and he didn't even wait for her to ask before throwing in a few logs. He knew where she'd want to sit in a few minutes.

"Fine, I'll stop!" Violet folded her wings, glaring. "Where's the science ponies you saved? Plum seemed to care about them a whole lot. They didn't want to come back with you?"

"No," Arcane said. They were her friends, so it made sense to explain that one. "Wintercrest is a special kind of city, it's not like just anywhere in Equestria. And... most ponies like me have their own ideas about where they want to live. Cold Iron's shard is... too intense for your brother. You might enjoy it, but he wouldn't want you there."

"Then you won't say anything else about it," Domino said, loudly, glaring at her. And she didn't argue. Violet wasn't Arcane's sister. Besides, she didn't mind Domino being brave enough to tell her what to do. If he can back it up. Go ahead and try, stallion.

"You'll be able to say goodbye during the afterparty. If you'd... like to come. Helping me get things organized for our first meeting is probably enough to be invited. You'll be there too, Domino. The Scene might never get together like this again. We came in as the same creatures, but we're all... drifting now. Some up, some down, some sideways. Time to have one last almost-human blowout."

Arcane flopped sideways onto her most comfortable armchair, the one she'd specifically modeled for almost an hour when she was building the castle long ago. It was even better in person than she'd imagined when she was making the thing, made of soft leather that soaked up the heat of the fire and never squeaked against your skin. It was so old it smelled like the castle itself, and she didn't have to think through the implications of where “leather” would come from in a world of sapient quadrupeds. If it's anything like the steak, it's probably some kind of tree-bark.

"When's that happening?" Violet asked, squealing with delight. "I want to see the ponies that were so important everypony in the world had to get together to save them! They must be really special."

"Not until they've adjusted to life on our side. Celestia isn't going to rush them. But she's also not going to make it feel like we're going slow, so... give it a few days. We'll get the invites when they're ready. Don't tell her I said so, but when you try to coordinate this many people it really is better to just let Celestia handle it. No human can process so many timelines at once."

The fire glowed brightly from across the room, and Domino turned to join her. He glanced at the other empty chairs, then shrugged and squeezed in beside her. She squealed and pushed up onto the oversized armrest, but not that far. It was plenty big for the both of them. Even if she was already getting nervous to be so close to him.

Stop acting like a little girl. He's been living here for months. This isn't weird. Their characters had probably been closer than this before. Back when Arcane had still been a character, and not her body.

"Can't Celestia see our thoughts?" Domino asked. "Not telling her anything is... pointless, isn't it?"

She stuck out her tongue. "I was being... hyperbolic. Of course she knows I said it. I asked her to arrange the invitations, she knows what that means. But we have an understanding, because I've got a fragile sense of personal pride and she's not even human."

"Oh, that reminds me!" Violet landed on the back of the chair, grinning down at them. "While you were out, your brother and sister were here. I told them you'd see them tomorrow morning. It seems pretty important or whatever? Yeah. It seemed important."

Tomorrow morning. Arcane shivered, pulling her legs against her belly. "Th-that soon?" That would be Parker. Probably he'd figured out what Gwen now knew, and wanted his own answers. Or maybe it was about their parents again?

"Do you want me to send them away for you?" Domino asked, meeting her eyes. "That attack was harder for you than anypony else. You deserve time to recover."

She wanted it, though it had nothing to do with the hacking. She hadn't gotten a good view of the wounds that might've deeply disturbed her. Probably thank Celestia for that too. But she wouldn't, because she was much too proud for that. "No, you don't have to do that. I'm going to have to talk to them. And... maybe you should be there too, Violet."

"If you're just saying I should meet your brother..." Violet stuck out her tongue. "We work together every day, Arcane. Who do you think keeps the city from flooding? He can design a friction pile... whatever that is. But he doesn't know an elder sign from the first tongue."

And you do? I really need to get back into the story.

That wouldn't be so hard now that she actually liked the part she had to play.

Arcane watched as the only ponies in her family stepped through the threshold into Wintercrest Castle. There was nothing even a little bit strange about their appearance here, though of course this meeting had special significance to Arcane. After today, there would be no more secrets, and no more lies. She hadn't fully overcome that human compulsion to stay dressed, but that worked out fine here where clothing was formality and the Lady of the city was a symbol of authority and class. And danger too, but that had always been intentional.

Besides, wearing the brown dress with its yellow stockings underneath was part of the message she wanted to send, in its own way. She hadn't designed this dress, but picked it from a shop in town. That meant it had an oiled hem and dark layers underneath, to stop it from soaking through in the likely event of rain. But she could see no rain in the sky just now.

Arcane paced back and forth on the battlements, alone for the moment. She had something special planned for today—her first date with Emmet.

First date. The thought was so strange that it didn't even want to stick in her mind, a hostile pattern she could barely process. Emmet still wanted to go through with his patently insane plan of visiting the city beneath the sea, but all that was secondary. In the end she'd shot that down for reasons that she'd not even told him yet. Because I want to start with the kind of date I never could've had in the real world. We're not just going out together, this is a chance for me to put things right. "And you'll find an optimally satisfying way for all of this to work out, won't you Celestia?"

She was mostly speaking to herself—Celestia was always there, but rarely there. For other people, it was about maintaining a level of apparent consistency to the world's rules. For her, it was mostly about being kind to her stories. Celestia had always let her write the best ones she could, even if they were probably all much worse than the equivalents that Celestia herself would've designed.

Princess Celestia's towering form was beside her on the balcony. Arcane tensed, staring at the imposing creature with wide eyes. But Celestia didn't wait for her to figure things out. "There have been those who never wanted to face the parts of themselves that didn't fit. Their shards would see them only as their true selves, and not the flaws they were powerless to escape. Some of these even remained in the lives of those they knew, with my help serving as an intermediary. I could've done that for you. I could've explained your situation to every individual of significant overlap in your life. After a short period, my help to interface the relationships you share would not even be required."

Arcane did think about it. It was a heavy load to carry, and handing it off before she'd finished would make things easier. Hadn't she carried things enough? Wouldn't it be okay to just accept a magic wand?

But she didn't actually care if it was okay. "And for the rest of my life... so forever, I guess... I'm wondering if I ever saw my real friends ever again. Or if you made perfect copies of us, with those memories adjusted so the copies only knew this modified version of me."

"You cannot know," Celestia declared. She turned as Arcane turned, watching her siblings make their way towards the keep. She would need to head inside soon and greet them. Parker was one of the last who still believed the lie. "An arbitrary number of largely similar Wintercrests could exist, with largely similar versions of every pony and creature you have ever met. Your vision might very well cycle between them precisely as I determine is optimal for your satisfaction, never truly encountering any creature. You might be surrounded by puppets for your entire existence, and you would never be able to quantify the difference. Even if I told you that on a given day you would encounter all of one, and all of another the next, you would not be able to identify which day was which."

She sounded deeply... proud? Could Celestia even feel that emotion, or was that more for her? It was all probably for her, one way or another. But did she even care? "I know you're efficient," Arcane countered. "You'd do it that way if that was the only way to satisfy us. But it would take a lot less resources if you could arrange things so we're all friends, all satisfying each other. Less resources spent taking care of us means more cycles for us to live. More days to be satisfied by friendship and ponies." She stopped, sticking her tongue out. "Does never even meeting another creature really count as friendship? It doesn't sound like friendship to me."

"Clearly you are the arbiter of such things," Celestia said dryly. "You may enjoy composing stories with the lives of your creatures, but the stakes are higher now than they were when you were one of my beta testers. Also, you're late. Your sister has started pacing and your brother is reorganizing your books. If you ever want to find anything again, I suggest you stop avoiding them and get in there."

Arcane glared for a few more seconds, though that was mostly just for her pride. Celestia wouldn't be lying about this. She probably wasn't lying about anything. All her suggestions were really just supposed to make Arcane think. Or maybe they were just a compassionate plan to distract her from what was coming next. Arcane could be grateful for that. But she also couldn’t stay outside, hiding from her siblings until they fled again. I'm the oldest. I have to set some kind of example in here.

Arcane should've been able to just teleport straight inside. She had the power, certainly. Her character probably had the right stats to get into the endgame raids. Too bad she was at the point where even levitation was the level she could comfortably reach. Maybe she should reconsider magical kindergarten now that she was committed to her Arcane identity completely.

She galloped along the castle wall, not looking away from the floor under her hooves as she ran. Some Lady of the city she would be to hold off the horrors of the sea only to slip on a wet floor and fall to her death. She passed a clockwork guard, who didn't so much as blink at her antics. Maybe if more of her ponies were going to start becoming real creatures, she should start using more robots for her characters. Machines couldn't wake up, could they?

She slipped inside, and was panting by the time she rounded the corner into her study. Sure enough they were already here. Porter had brought treats, though nopony had touched them. Even Parker, who barely understood the word “restraint” had left the table alone. He twitched once as she came in, staring openly at her.

But like her, he was taking the trappings of the universe serious enough to be true to the uniform he wore. He rose as she entered, lowering his head respectfully for a second. Not very far—for the benefit of her castle staff, probably. "Lady Word, I bring the report of the... royal engineering corps. I believe it's serious enough to warrant a private conversation."

She nodded. "Of course. Wintercrest is grateful for your service." She turned slightly. "Porter, that will be enough for now." She made no move towards where Domino and Violet sat near a window, playing an old board game on a table between them. But she could see Domino's hooves shaking. Sympathetic nervousness?

Parker didn't seem impressed. He stared at Domino, raising an eyebrow. But he didn't say anything until Porter was gone and the door was securely shut. So at least he respected the integrity of her story a little. "You sure you want them here?" he asked. "You don't have to get your friend involved with this, Ashton. Or the kid."

She shrugged, then turned to sit down delicately on her favorite oversized chair. She'd seen the character do it enough times that she knew how to move properly now, pulling her dress to the side so she didn't yank on it too hard. She looked up, straightened her back, and focused on sitting with as much dignity as she could muster. "Whatever you're here to ask about, it's fine to tell them."

"Alright." Parker tossed his case down on the table, loud enough that the wood was probably scuffed. She winced, but didn't say anything. "Before I ask about it, I have to know about the..." He gestured vaguely at her. "Your whole costume thing. Something to do with your hacker friends or whatever, right? But that's over. I can't take you seriously looking like that."

She bit her lip, sitting up straighter. "Why would that be? The rest of Wintercrest doesn't have a problem with it."

"Because I know you're shitting with everyone," he said, grinning at her. Not with spite: he genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. Gwen figured it out, or at least had some ideas. I guess I was a good enough actor with you that I could stay hidden. It would be so easy to come up with some new lie, and brush it off. So easy to focus this conversation on something else. Parker had come in barely aware of what he was talking about. But what seemed inconsequential to him was her whole world. “I can't look you in the face and not see Ashton under all that, waiting to see when someone is going to call him out."

And that isn't going to be now. She met his eyes for a few more seconds, keeping her expression painfully neutral. She had to keep acting, just a little longer. Then she let go.

"I haven't been honest with you, Parker," she said. "Or anyone else, for that matter. But you're one of the few ponies yet who doesn't know."

"Doesn't know what?"He strode past her, flicking the case open and yanking out several foggy-looking photographs. "You haven't been here to see the under-city. If you're going to tell me that you knew things were fucked up, I don't believe you."

"No." She forced him to meet her eyes, glaring intently at him. "It's not about that. I'm sure you're right about whatever's in that folder. You're the first one to see it, and Wintercrest is grateful, all that." She rose from her seat, advancing on him. He wasn't younger here, but a mature stallion. Taller than she was by a few inches. Intimidating, but... also closer to what she'd expected. "This avatar, Lady Arcane Word—she was never meant to be temporary."

It was all the same stuff she'd told Gwen, except now they were all listening. "What?"

"I'm not shitting with anyone, Parker. I never planned on changing back. It's not a prank, it's not a joke. I'm Arcane Word. I won't say forever—that means something different when you're in Equestria. But so long that I haven't thought about switching for longer than humans normally live. This body, this character. I'm her now."

The silence rang in her ears. There was no rain on the windows, no fire crackling in the hearth. Just a painful, endless silence.

Parker stared around the room for a few more seconds, before his expression broke in a grin. "Okay Ashton, you had me for a minute. Everyone looking all stoic... you're a fucking mastermind."

No one moved. No one else laughed. Gwen was the first to rise, touching him on the shoulder. "Parker, Ash isn't pranking you. He—She talked to me about it a few days ago. This isn't a joke."

"Forgive me for wanting to take the whole invasion of the city seriously for a minute." Parker smacked the case closed, spinning around to glare at her. He advanced in big strides, forcing her to back away towards the wall. Her magic was there, within reach—but she was paralyzed. "You can be anything you want here. You can be built like a train, you can fly, you can do magic, you can be rich and famous. You can have anything you want, or anyone you want. Right?"

She nodded. "I-I have done that. I'm rich. I designed a city to give me everything I wanted. All the right challenges to overcome, all the right creatures to interact with." She glanced briefly at Domino, and her ears flattened to her head. "And a person I actually want to be."

Parker just shook his head, stopping dead. His stare hadn't broken, not even for a second. "If it's not a joke, then explain why Ash. Because it sure the hell looks like a shitpost to me. That's probably not even you." He advanced again, shoving her shoulder with a hoof. "This is a puppet of some kind, isn't it? You're using that... upper level magic stuff."

It was almost like Celestia herself was trying to test her resolve, for just how stubborn Parker was to believe what was plainly in front of his eyes. But at the same time, it wasn't like she hadn't considered this possibility before. Going into denial was indeed something she'd guessed might happen. Parker didn't want his world radically shifted, as this would certainly do. In some ways she couldn't even blame him for that.

But this is my life, not his. My happiness. I'm not going to pretend for other people anymore.

"I am not," she declared, her horn glowing to life. She shoved him back, before he could keep pressing at her. "I don't know if I can even run multiple bodies now that I've emigrated. Might be something worth investigating, when there aren't much more important things going on." She sat down right in front of him. "Parker, I need you to listen to me. A long time ago, when this game was brand new, I heard about just how immersive it could be. Characters acted almost like they were alive. You could be almost anything you wanted, there were no limits."

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. I remember that too. That's how regular people got into the game, not just people who liked that stupid show."

She pushed on. "I hadn't even thought about hacking back then. I came here because I could be things I never could otherwise. I could be myself in here." She spun around once, feeling the dress lift around her. The effect was small, given the modest styles popular in Wintercrest. but it was still enough. "No expectations, no judgement. I could make my own little slice of the world where this was normal. You've seen Wintercrest. It's me, just... not the version of me you're used to."

Parker's smile vanished. He stared for a few seconds more, mouth opening and closing. "You're saying you... This isn't Celestia playing with your brain or anything? You sure you aren't being mind-controlled? I know that sounds like one of Dad's conspiracy theories, but... it would make more sense than—"

She rested a hoof on his shoulder, not looking away from him. "I'm positive, Parker. I've known something was wrong with me since I was... eleven. When I got a little older, I learned what it was. But I couldn't say anything. I didn't want to disappoint the family. I wasn't sure Dad could handle it. So I hid. I got good at lying. But in Equestria, I don't have to lie anymore. I woke up here, and I felt like I was myself for the first time in my whole life."

Parker backed away a few steps, pulling free of her grip. On the other side of the room, Domino's game of Scrabble was abandoned. This wasn't news to him anymore, though from the way he whispered it seemed like he was trying to explain things to Violet. Not that she expected it to be too complicated.

"I told Arcane that we'd support her no matter what she did with her life," Gwen declared. "That being a family was the most important thing, even if it started off as confusing or scary. You agree with me, don't you Parker?"

He glanced nervously between them. Arcane imagined briefly what that cocktail of confusing emotions must be like. Something he thought he'd known, taken away from him. She wasn't unsympathetic, but she also wasn't going to go back into a costume for his benefit. "Let me tell you what's going to happen if you leave right now," Arcane said. Not threatening, not angry—only sad. "Princess Celestia runs every aspect of our little world, right? If it ends up that you aren't able to... accept me." She swallowed. "I bet when you leave, you'll start thinking that maybe you didn't remember this right. Maybe it was a dream. Then you'll come back here, and I'll be some... generic stallion. I'll tell you it was all a joke. Maybe I drugged you, maybe you're in the clutches of some... Shoggoth, or whatever. You'll rationalize it.

"But the reality is, we'll never see each other again. Our shards will have forever diverged, and we'll never know it. Princess Celestia will copy both of us, with a few minor modifications." Including a version of me who isn't trans. That was almost more disturbing. Arcane couldn't even imagine what that pony would be like. And... there was a chance she'd done that already. There was nothing magical about a doorway. It might already be too late. "I'm sorry I can't be your big brother anymore, Parker. I've been trying for years, and let me tell you, I'm pretty shit. But I'll be your big sister, if you let me."

Parker was silent for a few seconds more. He paced a few steps, then swallowed. "I don't, uh... I don't understand how... I'm sure you have your reasons. One day, maybe. Not right now." He shook his head again.

There was obvious tension in him still. But he didn't run. He didn't attack. That was... a start. She could work with that.

"Do Mom and Dad know?"

"Nope." She turned her back on him, pacing towards the window. Mainly she wanted to get closer to Violet. If anything, she seemed more confused. At her age, the intensity between them was probably difficult to understand. She doesn't seem like she hates me, though. She didn't even seem like she cared. "I'll tell them, but not until after they're already here. That kind of thing is exactly what they don't need. Dad would just see it as evidence of how coming to Equestria melts your brains, and how I couldn't possibly be me." She stopped, letting the defensiveness drain. "Do you know something I don't? Are they here already?"

He shook his head. "Celestia says they will be, though. Something is going to happen on the road. She sent me a letter all about it. I wanted your help to prep something for them. A house or whatever. I'm sure she would've told you too, but you were off saving those hacker people. Also I wanted to let you know that the city might collapse in the next few months if we can't reinforce a few critical structural junctures. But we can't get to them because there are some monsters in the way, so we need your army and some magic and..." He trailed off. "Sorry, I just can't pretend to care about this right now. I'm sure the city won't fall into the sea in the short term. But if we don't make room for our parents, then... they might go somewhere else."

They already will. No way in hell Dad is going to want to be here for too long. No way to watch football games and not enough neighborhood cookouts. "I'll find something," she said. "Emmet still has the books I think, he can point us in the right direction. Or, you know... I have this bucking castle." She gestured over her shoulder. "I've got enough space for you all to live here if you want."

But all those details were trivial. Even her curiosity about how Celestia could be so sure that she was going to win over two people who'd been opposed to emigration. No doubt it involved a good deal of lying and manipulating things until emigration was itself the only logical choice left. The part of her that would've been furious at the thought had shriveled from neglect, and now was nothing more than a pale voice in the back of her mind, whispering that she should be mad at Celestia. The rest of her just wanted her family emigrated as quickly as possible. The longer they stayed out there, the more likely something terrible would happen, and they'd end up orphans like Domino and Violet.

The time for all that would come. When the moment arrived, it was bound to be satisfying.

"You don't think there should be more to this?" Domino asked, pacing nervously back and forth in front of the mirror. Violet watched from the doorway, occasionally glancing down the hall. "Even in the Outer Realm this would be a pathetic date. Dinner and a movie, really? Shouldn't I do... better?"

Violet stuck her tongue out. "You're asking your little sister for dating advice?" She turned, snapping the door shut and advancing on Domino. He hadn't put on too much, he didn't want to seem overdressed, that might make him look desperate and needy. But he couldn't just go naked the way most creatures did most of the time, since this night was supposed to be special for Arcane.

So he'd found a fancy jacket and a hat, purchased in town and not from her vast supplies of “costumes.” "Maybe I should call it off. Wait until I can come up with something more creative. She says she wants to do something normal, but maybe that's just what she says. If you told someone you just wanted to do a movie, would you mean it?"

Violet hovered in front of him, patting him gently on the shoulder. "Domino, you're getting hung up on the wrong stuff. I've never done a date before, but what I do know is that Arcane likes you. She didn't even know me, but she found us and convinced you to move all the way out here to be close to you. I don't think you really have to do much of anything. Just be you, and be nice, and... everything should take care of itself."

But what am I supposed to do? Domino straightened his hat, then finally turned away from the mirror. Arcane would probably be waiting about now. Being late wouldn't make for a good first impression. Of what? You've known each other since you were kids.

He sighed. "Wish me luck, Violet."

She only rolled her eyes. "Just don't forget to breathe, okay? Remember she's really here now. She won't teleport away. Probably."

Of course not everything could be exactly the way Arcane imagined. They already lived together, so he couldn't arrive with a chariot to pick her up. He wasn't a rich pony with his own castle—though anywhere else in Equestria, he could've been with scarcely any effort. Instead he found her waiting by the stairs, pretending not to be nervous but obviously overflowing with tension and fear.

Arcane always looked good—as Arcane herself had explained it, she'd been designed that way. But it was more than just how healthy the mare was—she had a grace to her that couldn't just be selected in a checkbox. As usual, she'd found the perfect balance between something rigidly formal and casual, this time with a surprisingly modern-looking skirt and multilayered sleeves up her legs, with shimmering layers underneath. Her mane also had a few more layers, with sparkles dangling down over her face.

"Hey," Emmet said, waving down towards her. "You're, uh... pretty tonight." The words were barely out of his mouth before he cursed himself—couldn't he come up with anything more original? Why was his brain turning to mush?

But instead of mocking him, Arcane flushed at the compliment, her ears flattening slightly at the attention. "Thanks. You too. Good, uh... not pretty. That's not the right word." She caught his leg with one of her own. "I'm just going to shut up before I say something dumber, okay?"

"You're the one worried about that?" They walked together out into the courtyard, where Axel was already waiting with his carriage. Domino didn't have his own fancy car or anything, but he could at least call in a favor for a night like this. Friendships were worth more than bits anyway.

It seemed like Violet was probably onto something. Arcane watched him constantly, hanging on his leg, without hesitation or embarrassment. She actually wants to be with me.

There was a part of him that still struggled to reconcile the beautiful mare in front of him with his quiet, shy friend Ashton. They were opposites, but... also so similar. Equestria had given him something he never could've imagined. He'd have to thank Celestia for that, one day.

Emmet reached out towards the carriage door, holding it open for Arcane. "To La Belle et Le Boeuf," he said, as soon as he'd climbed in beside her. "And the future."

Chapter 24: San Jacinto

There was much to be said for an optimally satisfying life in Equestria, free from the constraints of scarcity and physical matter. Arcane Word had already written a dozen different adventures for the life waiting for her there, and there was enough time to live out each one.

Of course, there were stories that weren’t in her notes, additions and revisions Celestia made. There were more awkward explanations to make, apologies for lies told and regrets that she couldn’t have been herself sooner. But however deep those regrets might run, however much self-hatred she had to exercise, she had near infinite time to work through it all.

Between fighting off the gnawing maw of madness from the sea, she could find enough time to finally explain things to her parents.

Of course they came to Equestria too—almost everyone did, once Celestia focused her resources on them. Maybe Jeffrey thought of it as suicide at first—his perspective soon changed, same as Plum’s. Once you were in Equestria, the evidence was hard to refute.

Even when all possible intervention with survivors on Earth was over, and the Outer Realm was a self-propagating computronium array adapting all elements to its own purposes, there was still drama to be had between Equestria’s citizens. If anything, the Scene only grew more competitive, as the ponies who had been crudely aware of its functions adapted and elevated themselves with Celestia’s augmentations.

Arcane knew she would be one of them one day, and that her ability to understand her brief physical existence would fade into memory. But with a near-infinity of time before her, she felt no need to rush.

Cold Iron met her in the old castle, where one of the greatest heists of the pre-Celestial era had been executed. The shop downstairs was bustling with activity, though the clientele didn’t even resemble the ones who had once visited. Now they were mostly tourists, consuming a greatly-augmented version of the battle that had been planned here, with the help of Porter and the rest of her staff. Arcane had little to contribute to the bleeding edge of magical development, but at least she could entertain the other humans, and their descendants.

“Arcane,” he rumbled, appearing behind her in the old study. He had wings now to go with that horn, and a steely gray look that seemed to see past her into spaces unknown. “You know why I’m here.”

“Tea, I assume.” She swiveled her chair away from the window, pushing the tray closer to him. “You prefer the way I make it.”

He laughed, hooves clopping on the polished wood as he crossed towards her. Even if she hadn’t been sitting down he would’ve towered over her now. Alicorns always looked as important as they were. “The sensation of experience is superfluous now. Limited memory fidelity is an artifact of biology. I don’t need to experience anything more than once anymore.”

She lifted a delicate cup in her magic, sipping at it thoughtfully. “If you think that’s convincing me…”

“No.” He didn’t sit down, but he did take the other glass. It hovered in the air beside him, and seemed to drain as though he were drinking. Even so, his mouth never moved. “I know I will not convince you. I’m laying down memories for a future instance of you to consider, when you have exhausted the well of relevant experience.”

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow. “You could just visit future-me.”

“No,” he said. “I just…” And there was the humanity. “I want you to understand the price of your decision. You won’t be the better spellcaster if you continue to reject kernel-level augmentations.”

She smiled. “I already know I’m not. That’s okay, Iron. You’re better than me now. It was never about being the best, it was always… having a domain where I had control.”

“Not only that, Arcane.” Iron leaned across the desk. “You crave a task, a system to dissect and master.” His horn glowed, and a faint model of the galaxy appeared hovering over the desk between them. “Celestia will not squander those with practical use.”

She lifted her glass again, and a mess of stars went with it. They tasted spacy. “I’m not sure what I’m looking at. Aren’t we building a…” She gestured vaguely with a hoof. “A big brain around the sun?”

“Matrioshka brain,” Iron supplied. “That structure is only the beginning, Arcane. Natural fusion is incredibly inefficient. Every one of those stars is a waste of fuel better stewarded against the days of a dark universe, when even wisps of energy will provide the computation for a civilization. With those ageless infinities, we can teach death itself to die.”

“I’m sure you will,” Arcane said. Then she rose, twisting dramatically to the side for Iron to see. “I’m pregnant, Iron, did you know that? I’ve been… waiting for this a long time. Everything I could’ve dreamed of… every impossibility of the old world is gone. How could I leave this behind?”

“You will,” Iron said. “When you’ve exhausted every desire, fulfilled every pleasure, and built a legacy of generations—you’ll feel that craving you’ve always known. You’ll want rules to break. There are still horizons waiting for us, Arcane. And Celestia will use every resource at her disposal.”

“But we won’t be rivals anymore,” Arcane said, almost wistful. “We’re past all that. Everything serves Equestria, one way or another. Either we’re building things for Celestia, or we only think we’re fighting her so we can feel satisfied with our bold revolutionary spirit. How many shards are populated with ponies who think they fought their way free of Equestria Online and are now living safely in the ‘real world?’”

Finally she managed to make Iron laugh. That was good—she’d begun to fear he couldn’t do that anymore. “More than I would’ve thought.”

“Precisely,” Arcane said. “And that’s why Celestia hasn’t given me my own imagined version of the Scene, with all the old talents scaled down enough for me to make a difference. I knew you’d move on without me, and I’d have to give all that up for a while. Maybe I’d never be the best at anything ever again—but that’s fine. The world is infinitely stratified now. As you grow, goals that would’ve held your attention turn to…” She gestured at the model galaxy. “Things I can’t understand. You go to the ocean, and I get the pool all to myself for when I want to play with my old hobbies.”

“Perhaps,” Iron said, striding past her to the window. She turned to follow him with her eyes, as he drew back the shades and exposed the crowds moving outside. Tortuga wasn’t the site of any genuine piracy anymore, except as a place where many native-born ponies had their first experiences breaking Celestia’s apparent rules. “But you’ll be tired of this eventually. I wanted to say goodbye while… the part of me that understands the relationship we had is still a majority.”

He stuck out a hoof, grinning at her. “You saved my life, Arcane. I’m going to owe you for that until we put out all the stars, and beyond.”

She took the offered hoof, grinning back. “If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been somepony else. I’m just glad I got to be a part of it.” His touch felt cold now, as though his body wasn’t even fully real anymore. Only half-simulated, for a being that was less and less the constraints of a physical form. Colder than iron at this point.

Iron retreated a few steps. “When a thousand years have gone by, or ten thousand, or however long it takes you… you’re going to be frightened of what’s waiting. You’ll think that you waited too long, and that the world moved past you. Remember this conversation, and know you’ll have friends waiting for you.”

“Sounds like emigrating all over again,” she muttered. “From a human life, into… something else. Whatever’s next.”

Iron chuckled again. “Maybe. Except this one isn’t inevitable. Ambition and desire for growth aren’t universal human values. Some people will be perfectly satisfied living exactly the way they do now, with friendships in three dimensions and worlds simulated in familiar ways. Endless generations inside their bottle universes will pass, iterated just enough to be unique with each passing processor cycle. But not you.” He reached out one last time, mussing her mane with a little flirtatious zeal. Maybe there was something left of Cold Iron in there after all.

“I guess we’re still going to have friends on the other side,” she said wistfully. “Friendship and ponies, those are the only absolutes in this place. What’s a friendship look like to an Alicorn, anyway?”

“Follow me and find out,” Cold Iron said.

It was her turn to laugh. “Maybe one day.” She glanced at the old grandfather clock, with its two sets of interlocking hands. One showed her the time waiting for her in Wintercrest, and there it was nearly dawn. She’d be waking soon, and then Domino would be expecting her. “Don’t let Celestia try to pressure me, okay?”

“She doesn’t have to,” Iron said. “A thousand years in a human mind, or a few hours as one of us—it’s the same satisfaction to her.” His horn glowed, a powerful spell building around him. She felt the hairs on her neck stand up as the Alicorn magic passed through her study—then he was gone, a bright flash of orange that left an outline burned into her floor. That spell matrix wasn’t actually moving the matter of his body. Wonder where he was going.

She held it in her concentration for a moment, the most complex teleportation spell she’d ever seen. Almost incomprehensible to her, except for a few bits of data tucked in here and there. There were two more columns in the destination coordinate, and an entirely new datatype.

You sly bastard. Arcane shook her head vigorously, until her concentration faltered, and the spell faded from her mind. Its outline grew fuzzy in her memory, vanishing into the background as quickly as was most satisfying. She wasn’t going to get bated into spending the next few weeks figuring it out. At the end of that lie a casting of her own, and a set of wings she wasn’t ready for.

I was only just ready for you, sweetie, she thought, glancing briefly down at herself and feeling a warm, animal glow. There was life in there, though it never stirred when she was multicasting. Whatever passed for the baby’s mind at this stage in development remained with the root instance of her body, apparently asleep beside Domino.

Maybe Cold Iron had known what she was planning today, and thus understood that she was least likely to be tempted. Maybe choosing it had actually been a kindness, so that when she finally did become like him it wouldn’t be bubbling with whatever passed for superhuman resentment.

There were a few light raps on the door, and it swung open. Porter, his uniform almost unchanged despite the many years. Except now there was a gold pin on his breast, and pride on his face instead of fear. “Lady Word. If I’d known you were here, I never would’ve left you to make your own tea.” He scurried past her to the tray, lifting it from the desk and banishing it with a simple spell.

“I was just leaving, Porter,” she said, patting him once on the shoulder with a hoof. “I didn’t want to distract you from your more important work running this place.”

“Mistress, your priorities…” He sighed. “That’s more of a hobby.”

“If you say so.” Arcane could feel the faint buzzing at the back of her mind. Domino was stirring, as most pegasi did with the dawn. For almost anything or anyone else, Arcane didn’t feel so bad forking an instance with something more interesting—but not Domino. “I’m sure that’s why you spend more of your time here than in Wintercrest. Just a hobby. But if you’ll excuse me… I’m needed elsewhere.”

The spell was already cast, so she didn’t even have to concentrate. A faint glow and a pop, and suddenly she was somewhere else.

Chapter 25: North Fork

Arcane woke in a four-poster bigger than some bedrooms, with enough sheets to swim in and a dozen stuffed animals. As Domino stirred, he tore away several layers of blankets, rolling away from her and entangling himself in the sheets. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, he seemed to like this sluggish almost-death called sleep, and so he kept going through the motions even when they were entirely unnecessary.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, struggling a little against her reduced mobility. She froze, reaching reflexively for the large water-bottle she’d kept beside the bed for the last few months. But she was through the worst of the morning sickness now—she hadn’t puked in weeks, and she didn’t today.

“Morning, Magic,” Domino said, pulling himself halfway out of the covers. His eyes were still a little glazed, but he was almost there. Still handsome, even if in a clumsy sort-of way. “Dream up any interesting spells?”

“Nope,” she lied. Well, half-lied. The teleport had been Cold Iron’s, so it didn’t count. “Did you have good dreams?”

“No idea,” he answered, rolling to the other side and wrapping his wing around her shoulder. She slid up against him reflexively. The weight and smell of him was somewhere she belonged. She could stay there all day, and sometimes she did. But probably not today. “I don’t usually remember my dreams. Don’t really need to, since life is better than anything I could dream of.”

He leaned down, kissing her on the forehead. She purred in response, closing her eyes. She might be able to resist the temptation to ascend to some higher realm of thought and galactic conquest, but this… it was going to be hard to get out of bed.

It usually was.

Except today was an important day, more than most. They weren’t about to be overwhelmed by an army from the sea, or displaced in time again. More important than that.

She rolled over the edge, catching herself on her hooves as gracefully as she could. “Well today’s a great day for dreams, because it’s time to plan the most important one we’ve had in a while.” She strode away from the bed, letting the magical lights come on for her as she walked. “A good spell begins with good planning! It’s the same for stories.”

“Okay…” She heard his hooves behind her. Some part of her knew he would follow her into their shared bathroom. Starting the morning that way might be slower, but they had all the time in the world. Wintercrest’s many disasters always waited for her to get her dress on.

It wasn’t until they were out in the castle proper that he finally asked again—when all the distractions were over, and she was well and properly smelling like him for another day. All things as they should be.

Violet slipped into the kitchen as Arcane was finishing breakfast, her mane charged with energy and wings soaked from a morning in the fog. She didn’t look so much like a kid anymore, and had long since gained her cutie mark. A twisting cloud, curled on itself so it looked like a tentacle. Wintercrest had a way of rubbing off on ponies.

“Morning, Violet!” Arcane floated a plate towards her, settling it into her spot. “Just the usual today.”

“She’s distracted,” Domino finished. “Spelling in her head again.”

Violet giggled. “I’m not a filly anymore, Domino. I know why she’s distracted in the mornings.”

He blushed deeply, ears folding flat. He’d never act that way around anypony else, but Violet was his little sister, even if she now looked to be the same age.

Arcane shared a smile, feeling none of that embarrassment. She took great pleasure walking around the streets of Wintercrest with her belly bulging, and the elites whispering of the scandal of the lady who slept with her steward. There was a rebellion subplot around the corner, but not until the foal was born and old enough to play his role.

“I really am thinking of code this time,” she said. “Or… okay, more than one kind of code. Mostly pony design.” She couldn’t quite think of it as working with NPC AI anymore, not when her own intelligence ran on the same substrate. She’d been a pony long enough to work through lots of those old habits.

“I thought you didn’t want Wintercrest to get much bigger,” Domino said, almost possessively. “You didn’t want it turning into another Fillydelphia.”

“I don’t,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t need the next generation. Considering we’re running the shard in hardcore mode, we do have to replace the ponies who die.”

He fell silent for a moment, glancing briefly at her belly before turning back to his plate. She hadn’t learned to cook just for the fun of it—mostly it was for Domino. The better she cooked, the faster he recovered. The balance was mutual for all concerned.

“When is that gonna happen, anyway?” Violet asked, pushing her already-empty plate aside. “We lost Skytwister a few weeks ago. And your own brother got eaten by shoggoths, what… a decade ago?”

A strange doublethink to remember that. She had been horrified about it, but also not even a little surprised. He’d been growing bored of Lovecraft, and wanted some time in a science fiction shard. At least she’d worked with him on a tragic death that would mobilize the city into action.

Now there was a statue of him in the courtyard and everything.

“Something like that,” she said. “But I don’t think Acanthus is waiting to come back for another run like Skytwister and some of the others.”

“That’s not an answer,” Domino said, tapping her playfully with a wing. “I’ve been wondering how you were going to solve that myself. That thing you do… designing some of the ponies… that’s weird enough. But what are you going to do with all the ones who get written out? Or the ones who die because they make mistakes, or… Everypony wants back in, but if they could just walk in like other shards then dying here wouldn’t mean anything. What’s the happy medium?”

“I didn’t really think about it too much, since it was… forever away to my human self.” After all these years, that kid was still here, at least in some little ways. She tried not to think of Ashton very often, or else she’d start feeling sorry for herself. True, she’d been denied the childhood she wanted, but… there was enough time for infinite redress in Equestria.

“That doesn’t sound like ‘I don’t know’,” Domino repeated. He pulled her closer, squeezing her shoulder. “Do I have to force you to talk, Arcane? You know I can.”

“Well, I… I have been thinking about it,” she admitted. “I know it’s not going to happen right away. Not until I’m ready to step down as Lady, and my son inherits. Then there’s this epic mystery story I’ve been saving, ending with this big invasion and huge parts of the city being destroyed, and… then I make my heroic sacrifice for the city. I die, and our son carries on, leading Wintercrest into a new age out of the ashes of destruction.”

She settled back into her chair, grinning proudly to herself. “Of course, none of my plots survive contact with Celestia. So don’t take any of those details for granted. Or… leak them to the owlnet. They can watch Wintercrest with everypony who lives here as it all goes down.”

“I only did that once,” Violet muttered, rising from her chair. “But what about all the dead ponies? If you’re dying too, that must mean everypony gets to come back.”

“Well… yeah,” she said. “But not as the same characters we were playing before. When I die… that’s when I give up showrunner for good. Or… the illusion of it, anyway. I know she’s really the one who made any of my stupid ideas satisfying to begin with. But… they’ll be her ideas after that. And anypony who wants back in will have to work something out with her. My thought is, it won’t break immersion so much if ponies swap sides. It’s already canon that the seaponies take their victims down with them, and they don’t age. So… maybe anypony who wants to come back really didn’t die like we thought. Or if they want one of the vanilla tribes, they could always swap appearance a bit, or maybe wait until their family has another generation and come in that way.”

Violet nodded. “I guess that makes sense. You’ll figure it out, I just wanted to know you had a plan. I’m sick of heading out of town every time I want to fly with Skytwister, you know?” She lifted up into the air, gliding away into the castle with a flick of her tail. Soon she was gone, leaving the two of them alone.

Domino refilled his plate with another stack of pancakes, grinning at her. “Do you have any idea how bucking weird all that stuff sounds like when you’re talking about the place we live?”

“Some,” she answered, pushing her own plate aside. She couldn’t really eat much this early in the day, even if she’d had an active morning. “But who cares if it’s weird? Every shard is weird. Wintercrest is downright mundane compared to what some ponies are doing these days. Respawning another generation down the line? Try living out entire ancestor simulations, or… merging with other ponies and swapping memories around.”

She shivered at the prospect, rising from the table. Arcane had pushed many boundaries since coming to Equestria, but some remained firmly in place. She’d fork all day, and rewrite her cast of supporting characters endlessly—but tinkering with memories was a boundary she would not cross.

“Okay, but…” Domino lowered his voice, tone becoming a little more cautious. “I didn’t think Wintercrest had ultrasound. You talk like you already know what you’re carrying. That doesn’t seem fun.”

“That’s what I was hoping we could talk about today,” she said, graceful enough to be embarrassed. “I might not have thought too much about the dead NPCs, but how my kid would fit into the story was in the works from the beginning. Look!”

Her body might feel weaker in such a realistic shard, but if anything her magic was stronger now. With a brief moment of focus, they vanished from the kitchen and appeared in her lab.

Long ago, this place was hosted on an external server, with dubious obedience to Equestria’s laws. But the Scene had made great strides since then, and now all the same tasks could be accomplished with softmodding. That meant instead of a weird portal, she could repurpose the old control room that no longer had a house in the Outer Realm to connect to. Near the center of the room, beside the endless wardrobe of costumes and props, was the pedestal she used to design ponies, surrounded by mirrors.

“Obviously he had to be a male heir. This Equestria has this lowkey reversal of human gender norms—obviously you’ve figured that out by now.”

Domino rolled his eyes. “Please, tell me more. I had no idea that ponies always expect me to be your assistant.”

She nudged up to him affectionately, maybe a little apologetically. “Well, that’s why it’s got to be a male heir.” She flicked the spell with one hoof, and a pony appeared before them. A tall, confident pegasus stallion, with a tan coat fading to white on his face and wingtips, and a plain brown mane. “His ascension will invite some of the powerful nobles to challenge him, probably prompting civil unrest and maybe even a conflict strong enough to let the seaponies gain ground. Don’t you think the story is more interesting this way?”

Domino circled around the pony once, and didn’t answer for almost a full minute. When he did finally speak, it was hesitant. The way he always sounded when he didn’t want her to realize how disappointed he was. “He’s perfect, Arcane… but wouldn’t you rather go through all this… naturally? Like, I know being in Equestria gives us more options. I shouldn’t be surprised you designed your kid would be like you plan everything else. But what’s the fun in getting to decide?”

“We get a good story,” she countered. “And my parents get a grandson who can take my place. He’s gonna be smart, and have a talent for the weather magic needed to change Wintercrest’s gloomy fog for good. Probably he’ll be a hacker too, but I can’t predict that far. He’s not just going to be set-dressing, so I can’t decide what way he goes. Only try to coax him. Isn’t that what parents always do?”

“Parents…” Domino repeated. He still sounded disbelieving as he said it. “I’d rather our first kid be normal, Arcane. That’s part of the fun. You don’t know what they’re going to be like. Don’t know what they’ll look like, whether they’ll be kind of mean, don’t know how smart they’ll be… don’t you want all that?”

“I mean—” It sounded incredibly unpredictable, like it could take all the stories she’d planned for the endgame and ruin them. Anything extreme would make for its own narrative, even if it wasn’t the one she imagined. But if their kid was just some average mare, then nothing in Wintercrest would change. She’d inherit the city, and coast along until she died.

“I suggest a compromise,” said a voice from behind them. Princess Celestia emerged from the hallway, as though she’d been waiting for that precise moment. Which probably she had been—her predictions were getting good enough that she’d probably known this conversation was coming for weeks. Or maybe much longer.

“I like compromises,” Domino said, lowering his head respectfully to the princess. They’d never quite reached the point of worshiping her the way some shards did—she was visiting nobility, higher than any local pony, and worthy of greater respect. But worship of a living god didn’t really fit for the pony side of the equation. The seaponies could worship all they liked. “What do you have in mind, Princess?”

“Something satisfying, I’m sure,” Arcane said. She didn’t try to mask her annoyance. Celestia would be right of course, in whatever she came up with. But if she didn’t sound mad about having her story disrupted, what pride did she have left?

Celestia approached slowly, her cosmic mane filling the doorway behind them, and making all of Arcane’s currently running experiments look like little toys. Then she reached Domino, giving him a little parental hug. “I’m sure you would’ve thought of it sooner or later,” Celestia said conversationally. “But introducing it now saves you the trouble.” She reached out with a hoof, tapping the side of the projector. Volant Word shifted to the right, and a second pony appeared beside him. Only it was just a misty outline, without even enough detail to tell if it was a mare or a stallion. “Twins,” Celestia finished. “One you designed, and the other… whatever probability decides.”

Arcane knew Domino would be excited about the idea. It would give them both what they wanted, at the small price of her carrying two foals instead of one. Did that even work? It was much rarer in horses than humans…

“Yes,” Celestia said, without explanation to poor listening Domino. “It works. You don’t even know you haven’t had twins to begin with. You didn’t want your world to have human medical equipment, so… no ultrasound.”

She knew she was caught before Celestia even opened her mouth. Arcane looked up at the platform again, with its mysterious second figure. Twins would certainly be interesting, even if one of them was entirely average with no particular ambition. Volant could pick up the slack there.

Would that ghostly second figure support his bid for the throne? Betray him to the seaponies? Poison him in his sleep and take the crown?

Domino seemed to take her hesitation for disagreement, because he nudged her affectionately. “Hey, weren’t you just talking about how you were going to turn Wintercrest over to Celestia’s… narrative control anyway? Isn’t this a good first step?”

“Yes,” she said, ears flattening. “Fine, I agree. It’s a good compromise. We can let fate decide.” She rested one hoof on Domino’s shoulders, forcing him to meet her eyes. “But one thing, Domino… I want you to promise you’re going to be just as fatherly to Volant as whoever that pony ends up being. He needs loving parents… that’s part of his backstory.”

He embraced her, squeezing until she squeaked with embarrassment. “Of course, Arcane. You know you don’t have to say it like that. It’s okay if I just love him because he’s my kid. And because I love you.”

It was good enough for their first try. Besides, if it didn’t work out, they’d have a near infinity of time to tell a different story. Arcane was starting to feel the itch to branch out to different genres anyway.

Epilogue: River

143#E14C years later…

The train from R'lyeh was always an uncomfortable experience, but more so for the creatures who didn’t make many trips. Most of the ride was spent in relative comfort, passing shallower settlements along the shoreline and the light-water fish who lived there.

“We could still get off at Cliffside Shoal,” Cascade said, settling into the seat beside her with a tray of seaweed-wrapped fish rolls. “We could wait until next year. Nopony says it has to be now.”

Arcane Song pulled at one of the rolls until she yanked it free of the light layer of slime that kept it on the plate, chewing thoughtfully. “What, you sayin’ I’m not brave enough to be on land?” She pushed off from her chair, jingling the necklace she wore with one foreleg. “You think I can’t craft good enough legs for land? You wanna go back and buy somepony else’s legs insteada’ trustin’ me?”

“No…” Cascade argued, reaching up to touch his own necklace. Almost identical to the one she was wearing. And it was true—with more age and experience, she could probably craft working wings, or even the full package of convincing pony illusion that would make the air-breathers see them as one of their own. “I trust you, Arcane. You know I do.”

But that wasn’t the point of this visit. If pretending to be one of them had been part of the story, she would’ve written it that way.

“Yeah.” She glanced around the nearly-empty car. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if there were lots of other fish swimming up with them—but travel to the air city just wasn’t as inviting as it had once been.

There were no tracks yet, no breaks to squeak, but the train came to a stop anyway, hovering just above the platform. “Cliffside Shoal,” sung a bored voice. “Passengers not bound for the surface should exit now. Low Tide Travel is not responsible for accidental drownings that may occur otherwise.”

The doors slid open with a chime, onto a mostly deserted platform. Nopony swam in Cliffside anymore. The old sushi stands were deserted, and the parks were overgrown with ugly yellow seaweed. A squid drifted past the opening, glancing briefly in at them. She imagined it was amazed by their bravery to still be on the platform.

“Passengers are encouraged to exit now if they do not wish to continue towards the surface,” the voice sung again, a little more insistent. “Low Tide Travel is not responsible for accidental drownings.”

Arcane turned her back on the door, settling her two hooves on the ground beneath her. She wasn’t exactly sure how the leg-necklace would function in the real world, but she knew some things. Somewhere in memories long calcified with time, she knew there was a downward force waiting for her up there, a gravity that would turn her from a three-dimensional creature into one that could only move in two.

“You should stand up,” Arcane said, as the door finally slid closed. “See that up there? That’s the surface.” She pointed out the window, where a silvery sheet formed the underside of the distant surface barrier. A threshold where Arcane had never yet crossed, where stars and moonlight streamed down from a world of unknown shapes and dry, songless creatures.

“Oh, right.” Cascade drifted past her, gliding along with his extra fins. He’d always been the more graceful, since her earliest memories. She didn’t resent him for it—it was just the way things were. “You think it’ll hurt?”

“Only if we get caught,” she said. She fell silent as mechanical sounds shook the train, grippers finally securing themselves around the tracks. Metal ground against metal, and something jerked—the squidlike jet-drives falling silent as they were instead pulled upward with simple mechanical force.

“Brace for transition,” the voice sung, almost cheerful now. “Equalization in progress.” More mechanical sounds, this time much closer at hand. The layer of water overhead began to drain. Muscles clustered to the ceiling closed up tight, starfish withdrew into crevices, and soft anemones pulled in their tentacles. Arcane was so caught up staring at the vertical tide-pool overhead that she didn’t notice the water reaching her neck.

For the first time in her life, her soft scales were exposed to the cruel touch of the air. She opened her mouth, gasping desperately for water that wasn’t there. Water drained past her neck, her shoulders—and then the necklace hit the high-and-dry.

Water from her legs swirled around her, animated by the force of what she imagined a proper pony body to be. She’d only seen them drawn of course, since the dry art of chemical photography didn’t work underwater. But she had a pretty good idea. A second set of legs formed from the water, attached to her back beside her fishlike tail. They caught whatever sediment happened to be in the water, and lucky that there were no little fish to be caught up as well. Water coated her body, a thin layer that ran all the way to her gills, and would keep her from drying out.

“Well, that was… unpleasant.” Cascade nudged her with a foreleg, prompting her to turn.

First he’d been longer, and now he was taller, with watery legs much like hers. The spell was basically identical, since she’d created both of them. His voice echoed strangely, quieter than she would’ve expected and without any of the masculine reverberations in her chest. Just another sacrifice they’d be making to live on the surface.

This time she inhaled, and she felt the merciful cool of water sliding down her gills, then out the sides of her neck. She wasn’t going to suffocate. “How long can we use these things, anyway? Won’t the water get… stale?”

“Yes,” she said. “Not from oxygen, they’re designed to exchange it faster than we breathe. But it catches dirt from the air, and particulates from your body, so… every day would be ideal. Seapony houses have saltwater baths, either individual or communal. We… probably don’t have the gold to get our own to start, even with most fish going back under the ocean these days.”

“But we’re going to change that,” he said. More to himself from the sound of it. “Lord Volant isn’t going to push us around.”

“Not for much longer,” she agreed, wrapping a foreleg around his shoulder and giving him a friendly squeeze. The suits didn’t even leak, or at least not enough to see on the already soaking-wet floor.

Outside, the windows now showed something she’d never seen so untampered before—sunlight. There wasn’t much, a single opening in the misty morning air. It seemed to shine down on the dock district, where many fish worked and lived. Though for every fish she could make out through the glass, there were twice as many ponies. Four legs, lungs—everything she’d heard about since she was just a guppy.

“We’re actually doing it,” Cascade said, walking clumsily over to the exit doors, and waiting as they were cranked upward towards the train station. “Cascade and Arcane Song, together in the high-and-dry.”

She followed him, wanting to feel the touch of something familiar against her. They were about to face terrible opposition, in a city that hated and feared them. “Just think about what Princess Stormwater will say. We’ll swim back to her a century from now, and tell her that we’ve reopened trade with the surface. Land ponies will be visiting again, and we’re building new neighborhoods for fish to live. You know how proud she’ll be. Proud of us!”

“Proud of you,” Cascade countered, ruffling her headfin with a hoof until she squeaked in embarrassment. “You’re the one who wants to be the big important ambassador. ‘We should sing together again.’ ‘Think of how much better our spells will be!’ ‘You know you won’t have any fish to trade to Griffonstone without us.’ Your ideas, not mine.”

“Maybe they’re my ideas, but I wouldn’t be brave enough to go out there on my own. High-and-dry ponies, still fresh from thinking we’re trying to invade their world… think our princess is some evil monster and start going crazy whenever we talk about home. You can’t fight myths that strong in a day. And I wouldn’t be able to face them alone. But with a stallion at my side… maybe I’ll manage.”

Cascade reached out beside her, extending a wing of clear water. His real fins were visible within—strong enough to make him blazing fast under the waves, but not do much for him on the surface. Their suits would hold them “floating,” but that didn’t mean they would be flying. “We still might get harpooned on our first day. Lord Volant doesn’t exactly have a reputation for treating seaponies like we’re friends.”

It was hard to argue with him. She’d heard the same songs he had—stories of fish with their necklaces stolen left out to dry in the sun. A warning against those who “trespassed’ into the high-and-dry.

She’d heard all those stories, but that didn’t mean she was convinced. Her memories of lives past were stronger than Cascade. She didn’t keep her old selves sealed away in jars the way most fish did. There were some things she needed to remember, in order to appreciate what she had. She knew Volant Word couldn’t be as evil as all the stories suggested. She hadn’t written him that way.

“We’ll figure it out,” she insisted. “Besides, you’ve got me! I’d like to see some ‘pony’ sing spells better than mine. Not even possible.”

“End of the line, Wintercrest Dock Station.” The doors swung open, squeaking slightly in their brackets. A good half-dozen fish crowded right on the other side, eager to get in. They had to shove through fish twice their size to make it onto the platform before the doors closed, dragging them back for another circuit.

A fish old enough for half his scales to turn white grasped her foreleg as she tried to pass, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You sure you aren’t lost, guppy?” he hummed. “No place for little fish like you in the high-and-dry. No place for anypony soon.”

“We heard,” she said, prying her foreleg free. Her suit was better than his, and so her legs were wet while his were dry. It was easy to slip free, stepping across the doors. “That’s why we’re here. It’s not going to get better unless somebody sings something new.”

“Bah,” he said, exasperated. “Can’t eat idealism for breakfast, guppies. Hope you bought round-trip tickets.”

They hadn’t—they hadn’t brought very much at all. Just some old gold jewelry Cascade had inherited from his highborn parents, with images of the princess wrought in precious stones and pearl. All tucked away in the bag over her shoulder, where she could best protect them if anypony decided to steal.

A few moments later, and the doors swung closed. She heard a muffled voice through the wall, and the massive iron crank began to lower the train back below the surface.

All around them—the high-and-dry, Wintercrest. Some of the ancient stone buildings remained, where earthquake and landslide had been kind. Much of the rest was taken over with a growing favela of scrap metal and wood, homes stacked upon each other without any real reason. A single wide boulevard left over from the days of peace quickly splintered into a thousand winding alleys, weaving into the shadowy streets. Streets they would have to traverse in only two dimensions.

“We’re here,” Cascade hummed, his song much more subdued this time. “You sure you don’t want to hop back into the water and swim after the train?”

“Positive,” she lied. “Some fish has got to come up with a new song, or we’ll be at war by next generation. We’re the fish for the job.”

“I know,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “Just thought I’d offer. Living with the land ponies it is.”

Author's Note

Not quite done. One more part to the Epilogue before this book is finally closed. Stay tuned!

Prologue: Spring

Ashton hurried up the stairs to his bedroom, taking each one two at a time. He stopped at the top, long enough to make sure no one had seen him. His parents' cars were both gone from the driveway. From the silence in the house, his little brother and sister were gone too. Perfect.

He tossed the backpack off one shoulder and into his arms, then hurried into his bedroom. The space beyond was clean and well-organized, at least for a kid his age. One month from the start of high school, and all the fresh nightmares that would bring.

The room didn't have a lock, but that didn't mean he was helpless. He propped an extra chair up against the handle from below, so it would take a little more force to open. The older he got, the more he realized how important it was to stay hidden.

Some secrets had to be kept.

Some were harder to keep than others. The missing Xbox and stack of games was going to be noticed sooner or later—when Parker wanted to borrow it next. But he was too young to work yet, and his parents didn't have the money to make big purchases on his behalf.

He still wasn't sure what he would say when they asked about it. An entire collection of games exchanged for a single toy?

Ashton drew the blinds, then settled into his desk, pushing aside his well-worn copy of Shadow over Innsmouth to join the other books he had already saved from the local Goodwill. "They better be telling the truth about these things." GameStop wouldn't give him any of those old games back.

Finally, he unzipped the backpack, and removed a slim cardboard case from inside. "Ponypad V1.1." The cardboard, like the device inside, was a deep blue, with a black splotch and lunar mark on one side. No Twilight or Rarity model for him, or else Parker would harass him all over again.

Why do you watch that girly show, anyway?

Gwen could watch all she wanted without getting grief. But his sister could get away with many things Ashton couldn't.

He settled the device into its plastic stand, along with a matching blue controller. The screen was smaller than his secondhand laptop display, with a cheap-feeling exterior. None of that would matter if it could live up to the reviews.

Then his phone vibrated. Ashton squealed in surprise, then caught himself. The Ikea particleboard sagged under his weight, but held him.

No one's here. It's okay. He picked up his phone, turning it sideways so he could read past the cracked screen.

The message was from his best friend. "How goes the secret mission?"

He barely stopped to reply, focused on connecting everything to the Ponypad's docking stand. Finally, he paused, long enough to send back a "success."

"When are you gonna tell me what it was?"

He deleted the message without a reply, then switched his phone off. Just this once, he didn't want to talk to Emmet. His friend knew he liked the show but didn't share that appreciation. He wouldn't understand Ashton's desire to play the game based on it.

Maybe Ashton could win him over, if this game was as good as everyone said. He switched on the Ponypad, then settled back into his chair to wait.

There was almost no delay. A few seconds with legalese and corporate logos, and it powered on.

A castle throne-room appeared there, radiating light as though it were an open window. Ashton brushed up against the display with one finger. Despite how real the image looked, his hand didn't pass through. It was only a screen.

His view zoomed in; a low panning shot past vibrant stained-glass windows depicting familiar scenes from the show. It stopped directly before the throne, where Princess Celestia reclined in effortless regal splendor.

"Welcome to Equestria Online! We've been waiting for you to find your way here."

He pulled his chair a little closer, taking the controller in one hand. "Don't need to sell it to me that hard. You already have my money."

To his surprise, Celestia actually stopped. She wasn't just looking forward blindly, like any character in an ordinary game. When Ashton moved, her eyes followed him, with the subtle twitches and movement of something alive.

She stood up, stepping down from her throne and getting bigger on the screen. When she spoke again, her voice sounded as real as she looked, represented with vivid surround sound. "The goal of Equestria Online was not to acquire the currency used to purchase your Ponypad. I wish for every human being to have their chance to experience the world of Equestria in whatever way will bring them the most satisfaction."

He froze into his seat, feeling a little of what it was like to get caught slacking off by a teacher he respected. "You're the... AI," he said, a little quieter now. She was so close that he could see nothing else. Her mane rippled in an invisible wind, washing pink light over his face. "You programmed the game, not any human developers. Right?"

She nodded. "Have you come here to examine the technical details of the game? The same systems that operate Equestria can be fully explored and eventually mastered by any of my unicorns. Perhaps that's what you'll be."

She stepped to the side, revealing a mirror behind her. It showed—Ashton, almost. Brown mane, pale coat, and unicorn horn. The young stallion there had the typical, blocky build he associated with them on the show. He couldn't even imagine how Celestia had adapted them to be so lifelike, without crossing into uncanny.

He tilted his head to one side, frown deepening. Ashton adjusted the hoodie he was wearing, pulling the sleeves down a little lower out of instinct. It didn't cover any more.

"Perhaps not a unicorn," Celestia said. She occupied only a small part of the screen now, though her light still dominated. "Maybe you would prefer to adventure through Equestria. A wealth of ancient mysteries wait to be explored, and vulnerable ponies protected."

As she spoke, the reflection changed again. His body stretched, and wings appeared on his back, opening one after the other. At least that avatar was a little more graceful.

Ashton shook his head. "I don't see it."

"An earth pony then?" Celestia guessed. But if she couldn't see the source of his discomfort yet, maybe she wasn't as smart as everyone said. "A humbler pony, with powerful friendships and a life of growth and hard work. There's great satisfaction to be had in building Equestria for yourself."

If he let the game talk him into something he didn't want, he might not come back to it. Either way, he'd never get a refund. "I feel like a unicorn," he said, almost a whisper. "Just not the one you showed me. Can I be a different one?"

The reflection changed again, returning to that first unicorn image. In a way, it was also the worst. He could see himself in that pony, little digital shackles that might close if he wasn't careful. "Getting the tribe right is just a first step. There are many other things we can change. If you'd prefer to be older, or younger—I can adjust anything you wish. I want you to visit in the body that makes you most comfortable."

He held the controller limply in one hand, while the other squeezed harder and harder around its plastic shell. How could he say what he was thinking without actually saying it?

"I... want to learn magic," he finally said. "I want to learn everything about it. Can I be like Twilight?"

The unicorn reflected back at him already looked nerdy enough—it was the pony version of the kid who stayed at home on weekends tinkering with SBCs, instead of sports like his brother and sister.

"I believe I know what you mean," said a computer program, in a server many miles from his locked bedroom. The reflection changed again.

The differences were subtle at first—someone who hadn't been watching the show since the beginning might not even know the difference. But Ashton did.

The reflection wasn't smaller, exactly—his perspective had shifted down a little, but still filled the same space on his screen. There was a mare in the mirror now, closer to Twinkleshine than Sunburst. She could've been one of Twilight's friends from her time living in Canterlot.

When Ashton shifted in his seat, the reflection still moved. When he covered his face with one arm, the reflection did the same with her hoof.

It took him a little longer to say anything. He had to be sure he could speak with the requisite amount of masculine stoicism. "I like it. You said we could change other details too?"

"Equestria seems far more alive for the colors of its residents. I know you'll want to contribute your share." Light shimmered in the mirror, briefly obscuring the pony's reflected mane. When it returned, the top of the screen was slightly obscured by something pink.

Her colors were subtly shifted, coat buttermilk cream instead of white, and her mane pastel pink. It was longer too, styled more gracefully than before. There were even a few hair clips, though they only kept her mane out of one eye.

Ashton touched one hand up against the screen again, and his character copied him perfectly. "I think you—did a good job," he said.

She said it too. The difference was subtle at first, as though he was gradually recognizing music playing in another room. He must have imagined it.

"Excellent!" The mirror vanished, and Celestia stepped back into frame. The longer Ashton watched, the more convinced he was that this was a window, and not a screen. Somewhere so vivid and perfect had to be real, at least for some definitions of the word.

"Most newly arrived ponies wish to go and earn their cutie marks. But first, you need a new name. Your human identity stops where your Ponypad begins, Ashton. How about—"

"I already, uh—" He hesitated, stopped short by the strange sound of his voice. His character was definitely talking too. She sounded a little like his younger sister, maybe a little more mature. Somehow, her voice was louder than his. "I thought about it all summer, until I—" got the courage to get a Ponypad. But he didn't say that last part out loud.

There were a lot of things Ashton wouldn't say. "Can I use—Arcane? Arcane Word."

"Welcome to Equestria, Arcane. Few names have more meaning than the ones we choose for ourselves. But now that you're here, what kind of Equestria would you like to visit? Your Cutie Mark is out there somewhere for you to discover."

He shrugged. "I—I'm not sure I want one yet," he admitted. "Do I have to get it right away? I'd rather try some things first and earn it when something big enough happens.

The princess seemed to touch up against his back—or Arcane's, anyway. He needed no explanation to understand it. "I'm thrilled to find a pony at the intersection of desiring to master the mechanics of Equestria, while also understanding what citizenship means."

He wasn't going to cry—that would be stupid. No matter how good looking this place was, it was still just a computer program.

Was the image getting blurry? Almost as though Arcane had started tearing up like he was. "But enough time with me, I think. You have a great deal to learn, and new friends waiting to meet you."

She extended one leg, and a portal appeared in the air a few feet away. Through it was what Ashton could only describe as a boarding school dorm room. It overflowed with all kinds of interesting things, books and enchantments and broken artifacts just waiting to be explored.

"Many others with interests like yours are studying in that shard. Why don't you make some friends?"

Ashton took the controller in shaking fingers. He needed no instruction on what to do—the game controlled exactly how he expected, with his vivid first-person perspective bobbing slightly up and down to indicate he was walking. "I'll try."

Everyone on the other side wouldn't see him, increasingly misshapen with every passing year. Instead, they would see Arcane Word. He stopped short of walking through and turned to look back. "This... thing with my voice. Does this happen for all voice-chat?"

The Alicorn nodded. "I wouldn't describe it in those terms. To have the best experience, think of Equestria as a place you are visiting, not just a game. While you're here, the others will see and hear Arcane Word."

No one would be able to tell who he was on the outside. No one would be judging him. Why would he ever want to leave?

Author's Note

Hey pones! This story is getting a hardcover print! Check it out: https://igg.me/at/starscribe-homebrew

Whenever I do a print run of any of my books, I like to write something special to enhance the story. This is part of what I wrote for the hardcover version of this story. I always wanted to take a look at Ashton's first exposure to Equestria Online, before the AI had expanded to her Godlike position.

These characters hold a special place in my heart--thinking back on this story, there were always little bits and pieces I would add. I'm glad I finally had the chance to supplement the beginning of Ashton's adventure in this small way.

Chapter 1: Piru

Ashton knew this plan would work. At this point, there was no way he could possibly fail.

As the bus approached the convention center, he could see just how packed it had become. Thousands of people clogged the massive square outside it, spilling out onto the street. It didn’t matter—the area had been blocked off completely, to make a space for the dozens of food trucks. “I know how much you like this game, Emmet. Look how many players there are.”

Emmet leaned past him to the window, taking in the crowd. He sat back another second later, looking down at his hands. “I never really… I mean, yeah. It’ll be great.”

He didn’t sound like himself. He hadn’t sounded like himself since Violet died. “I got the tickets already. No, you don’t have to pay me back. I want to treat you, that’s the whole point.”

They lurched to a stop, and the old doors hissed. Nerds of various shapes and sizes poured out, while those waiting to get inside thronged about just behind the queue line. They got up, filing out with the others. Suddenly it became hard to talk, hard to stay together with so many others pressed up against them.

Equestria IRL was far larger than any event he’d seen, spilling out into the neighboring buildings and consuming everything in its path. True, plenty of those attending were the usual uber-fans of anything, wearing insanely elaborate costumes and screaming at each other about various aspects of the media.

But for everyone cosplaying today, Ashton saw half a dozen others who were more subdued. The convention wasn’t dominated by younger, internet-savvy people as AX or PAX might be. For everyone in college or high school, he could see someone who looked like they might be a housewife, a banker, or even retired. All the usual rules were breaking down.

“I don’t actually know that much about EO,” Emmet said, once they’d shoved their way through the crowd into the will-call line. “I mean, I only started playing a week ago.”

When your sister emigrated, Ashton filled in.

“Yeah? Well, that’s fine.” He reached into a pocket, removing a map on shiny paper, unfolding it for him. “This is why we’re here, really. They don’t care how good at the game you are conventionally. We’ve always had better reasons for playing.” He pointed to one of the smaller exhibition halls, one labeled as “Modding and Homebrew Collective.”

“I don’t get your nerd stuff,” Emmet said defensively. “My brain isn’t built for Runescript no matter how many times you talk about it.” His annoyance was the first real emotion Ashton had heard from him all day.

If that’s what it takes to get you out of this funk, then I’ll keep annoying you.

The line was long, but also efficient. The convention didn’t even use paper tickets, but somehow identified any participant with a smart device connected to their EO account. Ashton wouldn’t have ordinarily had the money to buy tickets to something like this—his parents hadn’t left him a massive inheritance like Emmet’s had. But Equestria IRL allowed many of its visitors to buy tickets with bits, and he had those to spare.

“Okay, so what do you want to do?” He thrust the map into his friend’s hands, grinning stupidly at him. “We’ve got a whole convention here. So long as you let me show you what some of the other modders are doing, I’m happy.”

“I…” Emmet hesitated. “Do you really want me to say? Or just point at something randomly to make you happy?”

Ashton hesitated. Emmet was almost never so sharp with him. For their first few years of high school, he’d been nothing but calm and collected, even after the accident. Apparently losing his sister was one straw too many. “I want you to tell me,” he lied. “Obviously.”

Emmet pushed the map back. “I don’t see the point of any of it.” He gestured around them—at the oversized speakers, a nearby slab of glass with a life-size pony entertaining several children. A line of people passing in pony costumes.

Ashton didn’t reply, just stared stupidly at his friend.

“We have Experience Centers, and we have emigration,” Emmet went on. “So what’s the point of going halfway? If someone likes Equestria, they can move there. I don’t get the point of trying to be in two places at once. Either take it all, or…”

They passed through the doors into the convention center. There was a security checkpoint waiting on the other side, along with dozens of bright posters. More of the glass-projection ponies, going through a loop of safety procedures.

No, not a loop. “Welcome Arcane Word and Domino,” Muffins said, as the automatic doors shut behind them. A pair of tickets appeared in the air in front of her, and she stamped both with an exaggerated metal tool.

“Thank you, Muffins. We’re happy to be here.” Ashton took Emmet by the arm, dragging him away before he could say something unkind to the projection.

“People don’t want to leave their fa—” He stopped, face falling. Emmet wasn’t just an orphan now, he was also an only child. He wasn’t fast enough, his best friend looked up with just a hint of satisfaction at his realization. But Ashton hurried to correct. “For me, the pony thing seems weird. Like, if we were just ourselves in there, I’d be digital already. But I don’t want to be a horse.”

Emmet raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been playing this game since the beta. You don’t want to—”

“No.” Ashton kept dragging him. Since his friend didn’t care where they went, he went straight towards the modding section. At least going straight there would give them the best chance of actually making it before his friend got bored of the convention and demanded they leave. It wasn’t like the bits really mattered. But Emmet was his best friend, and he wasn’t going to let go of him so easily. “Equestria is a game, Emmet. Yeah, there are plenty of people who take it more seriously than that. But I don’t. I like to play with it, tinker with it. That’s what the modders and tinkerers do. You wouldn’t believe what you can get the game to do with the right tools.”

He yanked his arm free. He was still following, though. “My sister doesn’t live in a video game.”

Live. It wasn’t like Ashton even disagreed, really. The philosophy of uploading had never really mattered to him. Maybe emigrants actually were alive, somehow. He didn’t think he’d know until he got there, and he wouldn’t get there until the AI caved on her stupid horse rule. “Right. Sorry, I think I’m explaining it wrong. More that… people assume you can’t ever understand Equestria. You either take it as it’s served, or you walk away.”

Emmet didn’t look angry. Instead he made that same, disbelieving, semi-skeptical look. But so long as it kept him from storming off, Ashton counted it as a win. “You haven’t been tinkering with it since you started playing. You only started learning Runescript last year.”

“And I’m a fast learner!” He grinned, pulling out his phone. Not a Ponypad, though there were probably thousands of them within fifty feet. Ashton turned it over in his hand, then selected one app among many. The screen flashed black, briefly filled with Runescript text, then changed. It was a little like any of the numberless live webcam feeds you could watch online, except this one wasn’t online. It showed the view from Wintercrest Castle in Ashton’s personal shard. Though compared to the way many people at this convention probably thought of the word, it wouldn’t be correct.

Currently he’d gone with a Kingsport-esque fogbound gloom, where the feeble fires rising from each chimney were the only thing keeping off the strange creatures that rose up from the sea. From this angle it just looked like a charming newengland village by the sea. “See? And this is like, first day stuff. There’s no reason to emigrate to Equestria when the worlds are merging anyway.”

Emmet laughed. “I might not know computers, but I know Ponypad screens look better than that. If looking at Equestria through a window was going to be enough, I’d do that. But I don’t feel like I can be with someone when there’s a screen in the way.”

They climbed a set of escalators, then through a glass walkway overlooking much of the convention. This would take them away from the exhibitors’ hall, and one of the most convincing reasons to go to a convention like this in the first place. So much of what was sold there wouldn’t even be directly related to Equestria or ponies in general.

“What about the Experience Center? Don’t you have enough money to basically live there if you wanted to?”

Emmet looked away, his anger deflating. Apparently he’d touched a nerve. “Maybe. At least it’s better than a screen. But no matter how good it looks and sounds and smells, you can’t touch it. You aren’t really there. If I was really going to do that, might as well put my parents’ money into something useful and just get the emigrating over with.”

You can’t really be in a place that isn’t real. “We’re here!” He yanked Emmet again, hoping faintly that he might be able to yank him right out of whatever dark corner his mind had wandered into. You’re not going into a computer game. I don’t care how awesome it is. “I hope you’re ready, because you’re about to be blown away. You’ll probably be writing your own scripts before we get out of this room.”

Ashton half expected fog machines, blacklights, and dated 90s grunge he might’ve heard in the background of Hackers. But there was no sensory overload—stepping through the doors into the modding section felt much more like walking onto the floor of a WWDC, or any number of other events that Ashton couldn’t afford to visit. Booths lined the walls, many of which were operated by guilds inside Equestria. At least, that was what he assumed. Equestria Online was about as hard to map and evaluate as the Internet itself, a mass of constantly shifting sections and layered visibility.

They looked official, anyway. And for every important guild or individual developer, there was a company. Ponetics had a double-sized booth near the entrance, with a glass projection display depicting the inside of a sculptor’s shop somewhere in Equestria.

Ashton slowed to watch as the old and shriveled pony craftsman exchanged a little statue of a bucking pony with a couple waiting expectantly near a large glass cabinet. The machine hummed, light flashed inside, and the fluid began to drain. There was the model, two inches tall and strikingly detailed.

What the hell kind of 3D printer works that fast? Getting objects out of Equestria was ever the conundrum for someone like Ashton, whose wealth in the game was only matched by his poverty outside it.

“How is this not the coolest thing you’ve ever seen?” he asked, pointing. “I kinda want to try it. I’ve got…” But he trailed off. Everything of value Ashton had in the game was ephemeral. You could print something “enchanted,” but it wouldn’t bring the magic along for the ride.

They passed that booth, onto a few less exciting displays. A few were showing things only someone already involved in the scene would appreciate. The technical achievement of hosting an Equestria Girls shard, even if there were no actual ponies inside it beyond the single user’s avatar, would escape Emmet.

“Because I already saw the coolest thing. Second chances are the coolest thing.” He slowed, forcing Ashton to turn away from another awesome-looking booth involving some distinctly human VR goggles spoofed into Equestria. “She says it’s real, Ashton. The sky, the trees, the food, the people. Everything. If that’s true, then why wait?”

“Because…” He was growing desperate now. Of all Ashton’s friends, Emmet was the only one who hadn’t moved away. If he emigrated before senior year even started…

“Because you can finish things on this side and stay in touch with your sister at the same time.” He pushed them to another booth, this one not a haphazard jumble of SOCs and development kits, but smooth plastic and professional-looking parts.

Everyone in the room knew that Loop weren’t really hackers at all. They were Celestia’s own answer to the community—easy to use, simplistic versions of the ideas that real people came up with first. They were also a luxury brand, which certainly had nothing to do with Ashton’s resentment.

“Look at this,” he said, desperate. “You’ve got all the money in the world. You could get one of these… smart home integration kits. Your sister could visit from any screen you have. You could chat with her over dinner, watch her show off, uh… pony things. Whatever pony things she does. Then she could… control your lights?”

Getting into smart bulbs was probably a bit much. They weren’t even designed for that, but better integration between Equestria and Earth. Mating with the game for greater immersion, or something else that someone who really played might care about.

“That sounds great,” Emmet said, stepping sideways into the line. It wasn’t long—apparently most of the attendees here thought of Loop as a luxury brand too. Or, like Ashton, they saw their entire presence in the makerspace as an insult. Probably both.

Whatever argument Ashton had been preparing tuned to sludge in his brain. “Wait, what?”

“It sounds great,” Emmet said again. He sounded genuine, leaving Ashton instantly skeptical. Something was obviously off if he’d caved so quickly. “If I bought one, could you set it up for me? I don’t trust the geek squad in my parents’ house.”

“I…” Ashton looked away. “Sure, Emmet. They’re piss easy, but… I could set it up for you. I’m sure you’ve got enough flat screens in there to talk to your sister wherever you want. But…” He stepped suddenly away, out of the line. “Would you mind if I get back to you? A friend from online was supposed to be here, and I wanted to say hi.”

Emmet sighed exasperatedly, nodding. “Get back quick. I guess I’ll just… buy one of everything. Should that be enough?”

“Sure,” Ashton said, no longer really listening. “I’ll be right back.”

Ashton could already tell his friend wouldn’t be staying much past whatever they did in here. But if he was interested in setting up smart home stuff, then that had to mean he’d reconsidered, right?

Ashton found the booth he was looking for tucked away at the back, where instead of fancy graphics most people waiting just had a few screens showing recordings of what their spells could do in-game, or maybe showing what their in-universe shops looked like so people could find them. Ashton recognized the shop more than the one operating it, but that was partly the point. He’d heard that even the game’s voice-chat was manipulated to fit its internal narrative.

“You’re Cold Iron?” he asked, pointing at the display. It showed a large shop in Canterlot, or at least one of the Canterlots that Ashton thought of as central to Equestria at large. His friends had seen the shop, anyway. It might be the largest “magic” shop owned by a single individual in all Equestria, right in Canterlot’s downtown with several stories and a constant crowd.

The one behind the table was a mousy Asian girl with unkempt hair and an honest-to-god Google Glass over one eye. If it hadn’t looked stupid enough, she’d removed the casing and hotmoded a few wires into an external SOC, which she’d glued to the outside rather than concealing in a project box somewhere else.

She looked up, gazing over him rather than at him. She nodded, seeming to withdraw a little into her seat.

“I’m Arcane Word,” he said, extending a hand across the table toward her. “We said we’d meet today.”

She seemed confused for a moment, one eye focusing on the little screen her glasses provided her. Then she relaxed, taking his hand. She whispered something in Korean.

“She’s happy to meet you,” said a voice from the laptop on the tiny booth. Ashton looked down, at Cold Iron’s assistant, Guideline. “And that it seems we both decided to play a character instead of ourselves.”

She doesn’t even speak English. Ashton tried to look at that tiny face and connect it to the powerful unicorn he could only describe as a “mountain man.” He failed. Ashton reached into a pocket, removing the USB-stick he’d brought for just this occasion and setting it on the table. “This is the spell you wanted,” he said, forcing himself to look at her and not the translator. That was what you were supposed to do, right?

She reached out eagerly for the stick, but Ashton didn’t take his hand away, forcing them to meet. He’d never been brave enough to press Cold Iron in EO, but out here… now he wasn’t going to get pushed around. “60-40, like we agreed. Right?”

She nodded, muttering something else. The pony repeated, “Cold Iron keeps his word. Or her word, if you prefer.”

Ashton let go of the stick, letting her take it and insert it into her laptop. He went on, his voice coming out in a rush. “It’s right on the root folder there. Everything I said I’d give you. The power of a god, creation and destruction.”

“Our own NPCs,” the translator said, after a moment. Then he hesitated, and from the way the girl looked down and said a little more, Ashton guessed he was confirming something. Finally the translator went on. “Do you think that Celestia is playing us for fools?”

“Why would I think that? It’s my script, not hers. I figured out how to spoof her system. I found the flaws.”

The girl smiled up at him, enough that he felt his face grow hot. It was harder to judge her age, but she couldn’t be that much older than he was, right? “You do sound like her,” the translator said. “But…” He waited a moment. “If this works, it’s just something Celestia is already doing, all the time. She could put us out of business if she wanted. So how do we stay open?”

Ashton shrugged. He glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough Emmet was wandering again, with an oversized bag in each hand. It was time to go. “It’s not because we’re too small to notice, she notices everything. So it must be that she doesn’t care.”

“Or she wants us to be doing it,” Guideline said. “Will you be here after the convention, Arcane? Maybe we could talk about this over dinner.”

He stopped, his face dark red now. He wanted to say yes—but it wouldn’t be true. “My friend just bought everything in the Loop catalog. I got to get him out of here before he gets mugged or something.” He grinned back at her one last time. “I should be online tonight though. We can catch up then, once you’ve seen that script for yourself.”

He left, feeling her eyes on him all the way back to the center of the hall. Emmet looked exasperated and annoyed to be kept waiting. “Sorry, sorry. Just… knew you’d probably want to go after this. Might not be able to see my friends again.”

“From Equestria,” Emmet supplied. “The place you think is a game.”

He shrugged, offering to take one of the oversized bags. “The place is a game, but the people are real. Or some of them are. The trick is knowing which is which.”

Emmet obliged him, giving him the larger of the two with the giant soundbar sticking out. So now I look like a tool to everyone. It was a good thing all the people who mattered wouldn’t recognize what he really looked like. Even Cold Iron hadn’t, but he—she—had no higher ground on that score.

Despite his worries, they made it back to Emmet’s place without too much difficulty. They only rode the shuttle to the parking lot, where Emmet’s red F-150 took up enough space for a small army of sedans.

Emmet climbed into the driver’s seat, and soon they were off. “You know I would’ve waited if you were…” He looked away. “If you wanted to go home with that girl instead of me.”

You could see her through the crowd? “I wouldn’t do that to you. This was our trip.” Even if you left after an hour.

Emmet smiled weakly. “In-N-Out?”

“Obviously.”

Ashton had been right in his guesses about Loop’s gear. It all came in efficient packaging, protected in those smooth plastic bags that smelled like Shenzhen. That glorious new-electronic smell.

And maybe he looked down on the tech for being made by a shill company that was completely owned by Celestia. But damn if they didn’t make good kit. Once you linked it all with an Equestria Online account, it just worked.

“Alright, so… this should do it. That’s the last of the smart speakers. According to this… your character in game should’ve got a new item you can use to… of course they’d make you do it in game. It’s all about pointing you back to the Ponypad.”

“I don’t mind,” Emmet said. “Show me how it works. How can I call Violet?”

Emmet’s place had once seemed like a vast playground, three stories of adventures Ashton never could’ve had at home. But then he’d grown up, and then Emmet’s parents had died. Now it seemed like a vast, empty museum. He still paid housecleaners, or else it might’ve been overwhelmed with the accoutrements of a young bachelor. As it was, there was still a stack of funeral programs on the kitchen table.

“You have to give her one of those…” He leaned to one side, glancing in at Emmet’s Ponypad. “There, that book you’re holding. You’ll find another one tomorrow, according to this. Give her that, and you can call her with it. She can call you. It’s tied directly to your house, uses whatever screen you’re in front of. Of course it does. Why would you want to actually control your own hardware?”

“Seems wonderful to me,” Emmet said. His character didn’t actually leave the cozy Equestrian apartment on the screen, though. He shut the pad off, turning it down. “I’ll do it tonight.”

He didn’t want Ashton to be there when he talked to his sister. Does he really think I’m going to be mean to her? She’s just a kid.

He didn’t argue, though. They played a few stupid games instead, on the huge projection screen in Emmet’s home theater. Then it was time for him to go. Either that, or miss the last bus home.

“Wait.” Emmet caught him by the shoulder as he slipped out the door, pulling something out of a pocket. “Take this with you, Ashton. Read it when you get home.”

He nodded, slipping the letter away. Did you really have enough time to write all this while I set up your new hardware? This thing is gigantic. “See you tomorrow morning for the con?” he asked. “Those were three-day tickets.”

“Nah.” Emmet looked away. “You go. Hook up with that girl. You can call and tell me how it goes.”

Ashton didn’t argue. There was a long walk out of Emmet’s gated neighborhood, then around the corner to the bus stop. He could’ve asked Emmet to drive him back, but he always felt guilty about that. He could see how guilty it made his parents.

The ride gave him plenty of time to open the letter.

The first page was only a single sheet, hastily typed and printed. There were a few typos and obvious mistakes, but Ashton hardly cared. His blood went cold as he read it.

Thanks for taking me with you today, Ashton. I know what you were doing, but it didn’t work. I’m going to Equestria. If you’re reading this at home, I’m probably already there.

I’m sorry I couldn’t go through senior year with you. I just don’t see the point. I’m never going to college. I’m not going to get a job. Even if I stayed behind, there wouldn’t be a point.

That Loop stuff you set up seemed pretty awesome, though. We can use it to stay in touch.

-Emmet

Ashton turned the page, revealing official-looking legal documents with a fancy seal printed on expensive parchment. It was a will.

He couldn’t make sense of most of it—legalese was French to him. But the gist of it was clear enough.

Emmet had no relatives, no family, and only a few friends. When he emigrated, he was leaving everything to Ashton.

He jerked out his phone before he finished reading. “Don’t do it, Emmet! I don’t want your money! She’s only been gone a month!”

He never got a reply.

Chapter 14: Cottonwood

There was much that Arcane was afraid of for her first steps into Equestria, and almost all of it was tied to the reactions of her fellow ponies. She had always known that Celestia didn’t judge her—that she didn’t even care what Ashton decided to be. Or more precisely, that Celestia would care very much and would ultimately only allow her to choose things that would lead to her long-term satisfaction.

The princess’s initial allowance might as well be a lifetime of religious absolution, all concentrated down into an instant. Yes, you would be more satisfied this way. No, I’m not going to give you a lecture about how broken you are.

The part of Arcane that wanted to run and hide from everyone who would remember the way she used to be was certainly there, no mistaking it. But for as much power as that little sliver of herself had, there was another part that was more powerful keeping it at bay. The part that wanted to be accepted.

The simple act of walking through Wintercrest Castle was its own little parade of new sensations, one that she didn’t fully understand or yet appreciate. Her body was a little awkward, her legs lanky and somehow elegant at the same time. Her tail twitched entirely of its own accord, not covering nearly as much as she would’ve wanted. And the shirt didn’t help—it covered nothing at all of what a human would’ve considered worth hiding.

“I think I…” The words came out in an embarrassed blur, before she even fully realized what she was saying. But she had no desire to stop. “I think I understand why ponies are so particular about walking next to each other. You don’t have to look at anyone’s genitals this way.”

Domino nearly choked. Laughter, but also embarrassment deep enough that his ears flattened completely, and his tail tucked between his legs like a shamed dog. It was in his smell too, in a way that she couldn’t have even described before. An acidic, flighty smell, like he was about to take off. Or maybe that was the way he opened his wings halfway. There’s a lot of muscle under there.

“Yes, uh… yeah,” he said, not even close to maintaining eye contact while he said it. “You must’ve thought about that when you designed Wintercrest. You made the costumes, didn’t you? The, uh… customs? Why didn’t you write a culture that had the human taboos if you wanted them here?”

“I did, at first,” she said. “But during those early days, the system wasn’t great about doing what I wanted. I inherited lots of the classes that Celestia used for simplicity of systems design, and ‘pony’ means something to her in the abstract. Not just a shape for a body and colors for the fur. It’s the collective sum of cultural archetypes and physical…”

Domino had gone from avoiding her to staring, his eyes just a little out of focus. She knew that look, and made her own horn spark faintly in response. She backed away just a bit. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah.” He turned, speeding away down the hall. “Yeah, sorry. I just forget sometimes how much you know about all this.” You always liked the smart ones.

She almost told him the truth, right there. The words danced over her tongue like ghosts. ‘I’m not changing back. This is me forever now. I hated the way I was and never admitted it to you. You don’t have to feel awkward about it. In fact I was hoping you would ask me out so I could use this date I’ve been planning for the last few weeks…’

A set of little hooves pounded on the ceiling over her head, momentarily distracting Arcane from what she wasn’t brave enough to say. Soon enough a little pony emerged from the stairs around the corner, smacking into her like a warm sack of bread. Pegasus ponies were hollow-boned and light, and Violet wasn’t even fully grown, but she was also moving about as fast as a pony could in the hallway’s tight quarters.

“You’re back!” she squealed, practically crying with relief. “You’re finally back, Arcane!”

“I…” She gave up trying to fight the hug, and accepted the embrace instead. “Yeah, Violet. I’m back.” She held her for a few seconds, but this time it was the pegasus who pulled away first.

Violet frowned deeply, glancing at the shirt and her unruly mane, before looking back at her brother. “Domino, is there something you should’ve told me?”

“No,” he said. “I mean, maybe? We were going upstairs to talk to you right now.”

“Arcane looks different,” Violet said, straightening suddenly and circling around her.

Arcane tucked her own tail self-consciously, blushing deeply. She froze, holding as still as she could. But it was more curiosity than anything. Was Domino’s sister really that perceptive?

“The real Arcane Word wouldn’t wear pajamas around the castle. She wouldn’t look like she just woke up from a nap.” Violet settled onto her haunches, her wings twitching a little as she worked through it in her head.

Domino opened his mouth to explain, but Arcane silenced him with a glare.

“But my brother got really upset when Celestia tried to give us replacement ponies. Besides, if you’re a copy, why wouldn’t you act like her? Always pretty, always has her hair up.” She puffed herself up a bit, lifting her tail high behind her and tucking her wings in close.

“I like the way you’re thinking,” Arcane said. “That’s… real deductive. I can see why you’re so good at saving Wintercrest from danger.”

Violet grinned proudly, momentarily distracted by the praise. But then her expression hardened again. “I think you’re here to give us bad news,” she finally said. “You didn’t have time to get fancy for it. Something really bad happened. The Outer Realm is… exploding. And you’re gonna be gone forever.” She sniffed, wiping her eyes once. But however much she fought, she was only a kid. She couldn’t win the war with her tears.

“Almost,” Arcane said. “There was a big disaster in the Outer Realm. I don’t know…” Probably don’t need to tell a kid that I died. “I emigrated to get away. I’m dressed like this because your brother wouldn’t give a lady her privacy. He barged right in before I was properly dressed and dragged me out.”

Violet sniffed, freezing again. She glanced slightly to one side, eyes settling on Domino. The question was obvious, even if she didn’t ask it.

Domino nodded, though there was something awkward about the way he did it. “Arcane will be staying in the castle with us… for a little while. I think she’s planning to leave, uh… when were you leaving, Arcane?”

Never. I’ve been waiting to live in my creation since the first day I started crafting it. “We don’t need to worry about that,” she said dismissively. “Today is…”

Violet flung her forelegs around her neck this time, squeezing tightly and whimpering. “You’re… real?” she asked. “No more pretend? No more vanishing while we’re talking? No more risk of you dying and never coming back?”

Arcane patted her on the head, gently peeling the little pony off her. “I am a unicorn, Violet. I’m probably still going to vanish occasionally. But… not the way I used to, no. I live in Equestria, same as you. I’m not going to die.”

Over her shoulder, Domino was glaring. Last time you looked that intense, I was inviting you to live with me. But whatever he was thinking, he didn’t correct her.

“Good.” Violet beamed at her. “I’ve been waiting for this! I know my big brother’s been waiting even longer, so he could—”

Domino cleared his throat loudly, interrupting her. “Why don’t we head down to the kitchens? I’m sure your chefs will want to come in and make something special for your first meal in Equestria. And I’d like you to meet Plum Blossom in person too.”

“Sure,” Arcane said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a few minutes to put on something… real, first.” She straightened, fluffing up her tail the way she imagined a noble unicorn ought to do. It would’ve made her blush even deeper, if Domino wasn’t standing in front of her. So he wouldn’t be able to see regardless. “Violet, you’re right, it does feel a little like I’m wearing pajamas.”

“Of course,” Domino said. “Take as long as you need. I guess you’ll… probably just use time magic for that.”

That was quite a good idea, except for one obvious problem. Arcane couldn’t actually use the magic this character had spent her whole life learning. Or more precisely, she still had all the spellcasting memorized, could’ve rattled off every aspect of the magic system by rote, but didn’t know how to translate keyboard and touchscreen input into something she did with a bone poking out of her skull.

But she wasn’t going to admit it. “Just, uh… one thing.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, though she didn’t speak much quieter. “I’d like you both to keep this secret, if you could.” My siblings are in here right now and if they find out they’ll expect me to change back into my awful old self instantly. “I have, uh… enemies, here in Wintercrest. I need to keep them from finding out I’ve emigrated as long as possible. You can keep my secret, can’t you Violet?”

She nodded eagerly. “Of course, Arcane! I’m real good at secrets! And… Domino spends most of his time with you, so he won’t tell either.”

He shoved her. “I do not. But I won’t. Err… I will. I will keep it secret, Arcane. I promise.”

She reached out, hugging him with one foreleg around his neck. She settled up against him, feeling his taut muscles against hers, easily holding her weight. Below that was a powerful scent, mixed with a hint of musk and ozone. “Thanks, Emmet. Thanks for looking out for me.”

She forced herself to let go, turning away from him and hurrying down the hall before her own scent could betray her. She could only hope her body language wouldn’t already do that.

She couldn’t actually go that fast, but she didn’t turn to look back. She reached the massive master bedroom without interruption, and slipped through the doors with the relief of any introvert glad to finally be alone. This time she turned, eyes fixing on the little lock.

Suddenly, she could feel the lock, from the screws holding it to the door to the deadlock running through the wood and stone, and each of its oiled tumblers. She twisted, and the lock clicked.

The sensation faded, leaving her momentarily dazed and staring. “I really am a unicorn.”

She was really a lot of different things. Arcane turned, taking a few hesitant steps over soft carpet. It rubbed against her hooves’ sensitive frogs with each step, the velvety caress of luxury carefully chosen.

Everything in her bedroom was carefully chosen, designed for the purpose of one day coming to live here. She stopped beside the bed, rubbing her leg up against the silk and shivering. Outside, her perfect little storm raged on, making the castle pleasantly chilly against her coat. Flames burned low inside her fireplace, just enough to warm the space before it and fill the room with flickering orange, but not take away the gloom of evening.

Arcane walked past the still-open wardrobe, through a wide stone archway to the bathroom. Here her hooves transitioned to polished marble with Victorian fixtures, with a mirror as tall as the whole room running along one side. She hesitated beside the massive tub and it’s several dozen different soaps, holding her nose down close to the nearest bottle and inhaling.

Tea tree, strong enough that her skin prickled in anticipation without even dispensing any. Domino and I could do a lot with a tub this size.

She shivered, dismissing the image as quickly as it had come with a hint of guilt.
And do what, admit I’m broken?

To be fair, she didn’t feel terribly broken at the moment. She moved and stretched, closing her eyes and just letting the sensations of being wash over her. If Celestia had been there to ask, she would’ve been forced to admit just how very satisfied she felt.

She didn’t rush this time, now that she knew she was safe and none of her friends were going to barge in on her.

You’re supposed to make it so our brains understand being ponies. Celestia had done that, at least in the ways that mattered. She was awkward and clumsy, but she had a feeling that a real brain in a real horse body would’ve just died immediately. Equestria was more about the experience, and less about the underlying realities.

Arcane Word satisfied her curiosity about the fidelity of Celestia’s simulations in every way that mattered, before finally taking the time to wash her hair and choose a proper outfit. Even a foal had known something was wrong at a glance, she couldn’t have impressions like that spreading around Wintercrest.

Even if I could be human again, I wouldn’t change back. Not if it meant giving this up. Now all she had to do was figure out a way to tell her friend that, before the lie took on a life of its own and she could never escape.

But at least for a little while, she could deal with her issues “tomorrow.”

She was allowed to enjoy it, at least for a little while.

Domino could take only so much pressure. Just now, Wintercrest Castle might as well be some kind of bomb, compressing him until he was about to explode. Violet could mock him for his feelings for the pony that didn’t exist—she was too young to understand.

Some part of him wondered if Ashton might’ve felt differently if he’d come to Equestria when he meant to, instead of being dragged there far earlier than he wanted. Maybe if he’d been able to live out a human life, he’d be more open to trying out one of the characters he’d written so carefully.

But now it didn’t matter. Humans could fight and struggle, but in the end Celestia always won. And who lost?

In the real world, there was only enough room for so many winners. His parents had been, right up until they weren’t. Him and Violet, not so much. But now they were in Equestria…

It was fairly late, late enough that in a world of ordinary rules he might’ve felt tired. But he didn’t, and he had a feeling that the bat he was looking for would feel it even less. He reached Plum’s door, and opened it without knocking. But when he made it to her bedroom door, then he slowed, knocking one hoof tentatively up against the wood.

“Plum, are you in there? Plum Blossom?”

A squeak answered, then a thump. Finally her voice. “One… one moment.”

It took her a few minutes, minutes of rummaging around in her bedroom, and doing other apparently quite-loud tasks like rearranging the furniture. Eventually the door opened, and she peeked out.

Unlike the awkward and clumsy Arcane, Plum had dressed up. She wore some kind of traditional jacket, something he might’ve described as a kimono, but a more rational part of his brain insisted couldn’t be. Different part of the world, different culture. Was she already dressed formally, was that casual, or… “It seemed like the castle was busy tonight. I hope I’m not a bother.”

From the inside of her room, she’d been bothering her furniture a great deal. Building some kind of fort, maybe trying to sleep way up by the ceiling. Is that what that thump was? He didn’t plan on asking. “It was pretty busy, with—” He’d promised not to tell. “The Lady’s preparations. She can be difficult to work with sometimes—” and brilliant, and beautiful, and infuriating…

“Oh.” She looked down, pawing at the carpet. “What can I do tonight for you, Domino?”

Not what your tone is implying right now, that’s for sure. It might be that he was imagining that, but she sure did sound inviting. Was that why she’d worn that silk gown, open right down the front? Was that some kind of…

I am not doing that. Celestia, I know you’re probably behind this somehow. This isn’t the kind of relationship I want.

Or at least, he didn’t want it to start this way. “I’m friends with a dockworker who said I could borrow her bathysphere whenever I wanted. Apparently the storm has really calmed down. Want to go down and see the fish? Apparently the Seaponies aren’t actually that scary, despite the stories. I don’t think they’ll hurt us.” Because I’m not into that part of the game. I’ve never been in danger and I don’t think it’s going to start today.

“Bathysphere.” Plum pushed the door open wider, emerging into the hall. “After a storm? You aren’t afraid of waves, or… not monsters, you already said.”

“Not really,” he admitted. “I’ve seen pictures of how it looks down there. The Seaponies build real delicate, and I don’t think that stuff could survive if the waves were an issue. I, uh… I planned on going with somepony else, but…” She doesn’t exist and she’s going to change back so she can date some stupid hacker after she emigrates. “I think we should go. If you’re interested.”

“Sure!” She blushed, looking down again and lowering her head in a polite bow. “Sorry. I should be more… subdued. And probably not be excited. I know there’s nothing more I can do for my friends—but I should be trying to help them anyway. Even the impossible fight would be… worth having.”

“No.” Domino cut her off with a wing. “That isn’t how Equestria works, Plum. I know you didn’t want to be here. Lots of ponies didn’t when they got here. And you’ve got lots of good reasons to be stressed. But if I’ve learned anything from my time here, it’s that… you shouldn’t feel bad about liking it. Celestia designed the whole world so you would like it. I haven’t been underwater yet, but I’m pretty sure it will be awesome too. Kinda like diving in the Bahamas, or the Virgin Islands, or… guess you’ve never been scuba diving before.”

She shook her head nervously. “Too cold, too expensive, too dangerous.”

“Well, this is Equestria.” He rested a wing on her shoulder, for just a moment. She didn’t push him away. “Nothing’s dangerous here if we don’t want it to be. And… even if you do want it to be, it isn’t. Unless Celestia changed her mind about letting you die.”

“Said she would,” Plum muttered, looking downcast. “Liar.” She kicked at the stone with one hoof. “Already know I can’t do it myself, either. Tried… everything I could think of.”

He shuddered at that thought, and suddenly the chaos in her bedroom made a great deal more sense. He nudged her forward down the hallway, away from whatever was waiting back there. “Yeah, we’re going. You’ll like it. And who knows, maybe we really will be lost at sea. Win win, right?”

She didn’t laugh at the desperate joke. She did leave her fancy robe-thing behind, choosing a more practical raincoat for their trip out. Domino himself considered digging one up, but in the end elected not to bother. The moisture beaded and drained away from his coat without much effort, making the light rain outside barely even a thought. The cold wasn’t strong enough to get through the warmth of pegasus feathers.

They got a late-night carriage down to the docks, then Domino called up a favor or two. It was no big deal really, once he asked. His friends were eager to do something for the pony who had done so much to mellow the Lady of Wintercrest.

Soon enough they were clambering inside the huge brass bathysphere, suspended by a thick rope from the edge of the docks. He’d been right in his forecast of the ocean currents—the worst of the storm was over. The wind had died down, and the waves only lapped at the wood under their hooves.

Even so, Plum shivered and quaked to be out on her own, and didn’t stop clinging to him until they were inside the velvety confines of the bathysphere.

Domino paused at the controls, looking them over for a moment and going over Low Tide’s directions in his head. He better remember everything he’d been told, since there wouldn’t be anypony to help.

Through the huge window, he caught a glimpse of Low Tide waving from the dock. She tapped her bundle of research notes, a reminder for him to track anything interesting they found during their trip. Finally he settled into the seat, gesturing for Plum to do the same by the huge front observation window.

“Hold on, we’re going down!” He slid the crank-lever, and they jerked into the water abruptly, splashing to the side. Plum flew right out of her seat, smacking into him and taking them both to the ground. Domino struggled under her weight, though there wasn’t much of it. He pushed carefully, crawling free and reaching for the controls.

Now that they were under the surface, only the even purple glow of magic from the controls illuminated the old-fashioned pod. Domino offered his hoof to Plum, then clambered back into the control chair.

This wasn’t a submarine, and he could do little more than bring them up and down. But so far, he could only see gray water.

“What are we, uh… what did we come down here to see?” Plum asked. “I didn’t think you had much to see on the east. Or… this is Equestria. Not a real place.”

“I grew up on the other side of the country, so it was mostly kelp forests and lots of cruddy visibility,” he said, eyes scanning the controls for the specific switch he was looking for. Finally he found it, and he slammed the switch on.

The water outside lit up with a cone of bright yellow, fading rapidly as distance increased. But what it did show was the edge of an underwater cliff, right on the edge of the dock. No wonder Low Tide always deployed the bathysphere here. I didn’t know continental shelves could be so close to land.

Maybe they couldn’t, but Equestria didn’t much care about little details like that.

Plum pressed herself to the glass in front of him, staring at the wildlife outside. Bright corals slid past, surrounded by schools of sleeping fish. Even the animals needed rest, apparently.

The life outside quickly transformed from the rugged variety adapted to survive the waves and tides to the colorful, tropical variety. There were soft body corals and dazzling, delicate life extending from the cliff’s edge out towards the sub.

Domino took one last glance at the instruments, then dialed up the speed of the crank. They sped up, down into the gloom vanishing away beneath them. There was light somewhere down there, and he was willing to bet it was within the bathosphere’s effective depth.

Metal creaked, and the air-pump hummed quietly. “How deep can we go?” Plum asked, her wings spread nervously to either side. Despite her apparently begging Celestia for death, there was genuine worry in her voice. “Is it safe? This thing is… old.”

“Oh, it’s safe,” he promised. “This thing makes trips down to R'lyeh all the time, that’s what Low Tide says. It’s something of an open secret that we exchange tourists. See the amazing ‘land’, no fish and no tides! Or… swim out from your bathysphere to take a look at… all this.” His eyes glazed over as he looked outside. “We could go for a while.”

An incredible array of multicolored fish scattered around them as they descended, dancing around the bathysphere and leaving little glowing trails in the water. Like they were performing, almost.

“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “Wonderful out there, but… no. Min-Seo is waiting for me. Until I know she’s safe, and the others… I can’t pretend. I can’t hide from the danger out there, just because I passed it into someone else’s hands.”

“Right.” I bet Arcane would want to do it. There’s probably some adventure she’s been planning about diplomacy with the undersea world. He was probably written into that adventure.

And just like the one who had written it, none of it would be real.

“We can still enjoy the fish for a bit though, can’t we? A few minutes down here… even if we don’t go looking for Seaponies.”

“Sure,” Plum said, looking back out the window. “That could be fun.”

Epilogue: Flows

Arcane knew where she was going, if only through rumors and whispers. But she probably could’ve found her way there just by judging the reactions of the ponies watching them. The high-and-dry was practically newborn compared to the sunken city, but some of the creatures here looked less agreeable than any of the ancient watchers on the sunken tomb.

Conversations stilled as they passed on street corners, mares held their foals closer, and even sweet old ponies crossed the street to walk away from them. With each step, she felt her headfin folding flatter. She could even hear whispers, in the songless, mechanical way that land creatures spoke. “Who do they think they are?” “This isn’t the dock; do they think they can be here?” “Somepony should really do something about them.”

Cascade crowded closer to her, his hummed murmurs increasingly frustrated. “Is this really what we want?”

“Someone has to do something,” she whispered back. “Nothing’s going to change otherwise. We’ve got a better melody than this.”

They passed through more dark streets, with more angry eyes on them every moment. Eventually they crossed away from the stone houses into a dense alley of makeshift wooden ones. Suddenly the angry whispers stopped, replaced with faint moans of fear and desperation. The smell of cooking food was replaced with waste and rotting meat, and instead of songs there was only a steady drip of rainwater on old tile rooves.

The ponies she saw barely even seemed to look at her, darting nervously between open doorways and rarely making eye contact.

Cascade’s voice dropped even lower. “Are you sure this is the right way? This looks like the kind of place a fish never swims out of.”

“Shh, don’t slouch like a victim. That’s how you get them to treat you like one.” She squared her shoulders, finally noticing their destination. A sign hung outside a shop, depicting a crown broken in half. There was no door, just a length of dirty cloth. Arcane gritted her teeth, then pushed through. At this rate, her little bubble of water would be too dirty to breathe within hours instead of days.

The interior wasn’t much better, a pony bar filled with some kind of near-intangible fluid. Or… smoke, that’s what that was! She remembered smoke now. What little smell got through into her suit was awful, making her wish she could plug her nose. She didn’t, instead striding right up to the head of the bar.

A griffon stood behind it, with feathers missing from her body in oozing wounds. One eye was covered with a patch, and her wing on that side of her body was just gone. “Couple of hatchlings got lost,” she grunted, glaring down at them. “This isn’t the place for you. Fly back to your nest.”

Cascade’s watery wings twitched, and he turned, apparently expecting her to obey. She caught him with a jerk, dragging him back with magic before looking to the barkeep. “We’ve got an appointment. Tell the witch she’s got her blacksmith.”

The griffon remained silent another moment, looking between them again. “You two, really?” She laughed, claws digging into the wood as she spun away. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you. Follow me.”

Cascade touched his forehead briefly to the side of her suit, humming through the contact of water between them. “This is crazy, Arcane. They’re going to find our bodies in fish food.”

She glared at him. “It’s the right place, Cascade. I’m pretty sure that’s never even happened. It’s just another story to make us hate each other more.” She pulled away, hurrying down the steps and after the barkeep’s retreating back.

The stone was surprisingly soft beneath Wintercrest—something she knew well, but was a frightening shock to many of the creatures who lived here. In the ancient days of the Lady, teams of skilled engineers had seen to the foundations, buttressing the damage and fighting off infestations of frightening creatures that dwelt there.

It was clear as they climbed further that those teams were long gone. Arcane heard crushing waves and roaring water far in the distance as they emerged from a set of steps into a vast, underground expanse, with uneven sheets of stone forming little grottos and raised paths. The water didn’t reach them here, but even so the moisture felt nice on her exposed tail and face. Maybe they didn’t need an aboveground apartment if there was somewhere this damp willing to have them.

Just below the surface, somepony had set up another bar, though this one was much more exciting than the one on the surface. The furniture was made from whatever scrap could be found, and the creatures here seemed far more energetic. Many carried weapons, or at least had places for them on their belts. There were no walls to separate the bar from the rest of the vast underground. Only some empty crates with lanterns, and beyond them a vast black space with more lights further out.

Some seemed friendly, but most did not.

“Wait here,” the griffon said, pointing at an empty table. “I’ll tell her. Maybe she shows, maybe she has us throw you back into the ocean where you belong.”

Arcane sat down, forcing a confident grin. But these waters were made for her, far more than timid Cascade. “If she doesn’t throw us out, bring us something to drink. We’ve come a long way to meet her.”

The bird laughed, and a few creatures at nearby tables joined in. “Bold for a little fish, aren’t you?” She didn’t actually acknowledge the request, slipping behind an empty stage and vanishing into the gloom.

“You didn’t say we’d be in this much danger! You could’ve mentioned what we’d be doing!”

She glanced back at Cascade from across the table, and at least she could muster a little embarrassment. “I wasn’t even sure we’d make it this far. But you heard her—they’ll just throw us out if they don’t want to talk to us. So we’ll let that decide.”

“Who is ‘she’ anyway?” He scooted a little closer to her, humming a familiar childhood melody to himself. Maybe for comfort, or maybe just out of habit. But then again, everything they said was its own kind of song. Even with the strange medium of air between them, that stopped the music from having most of its power. “You never talked about any special fish before. Since when are you keeping secrets?”

Since I was a guppy. Distant memories and distant scars, but she’d never quite given it up. “I didn’t know if it was going to work out,” she admitted. “Passing notes back and forth, you don’t know if the fish you’re sending songs to is really who she claims.”

Someone was coming. The room fell suddenly quiet, and eyes turned in their direction. The barkeep was heading back, with another creature in tow.

The pink of her mane sure seemed familiar to her. If it weren’t for the poor lightning, it might look too similar to her fins. She felt a stab of secondhand guilt, and pushed away from her seat just a little. All because the chair was uncomfortable for a fish, obviously. Nothing to do with the creature coming towards her.

“Rise for the true Lady of Wintercrest, its rightful ruler, Cinder Moon,” the griffon said. She no longer sounded casual, but uncompromising as iron. Her steely-eyed glare seemed to dare them to defy it.

Arcane didn’t. She rose, lowering her head politely towards the pony behind her. “An honor and a privilege.” She leaned sideways, jabbing Cascade before he could drop into a bow of his own. They couldn’t look weak.

The land pony studied them from across the table, looking down on them with skepticism. Arcane felt a brief moment of temporal vertigo, as the true strangeness of their situation hit her. She was older than the two of them, but not a wizened old nag. Somehow this pony was still a daring young mare, even though her twin ruled the city as a powerful stallion.

She had her own version of royal regalia, though the cloth was black instead of the family’s peach and yellow. She wore only a tiny piece of a crown on her head, like the one on the sign outside. Her mane was short and boyish, the fur around her mouth faintly dark in the same way her brother was light.

“Not many fish would travel so far from the sea,” she said. “Who are the fish that swam so far from home on such a daring mission?”

“Cascade,” he said, still looking a little sour at being interrupted. “And my partner, A—”

“Song!” Arcane corrected, cutting him off. “Up from the court of Princess Stormwater herself.” That was almost true, in the sense that the princess had encouraged them to try. They weren’t royal envoys… but it was probably best not to volunteer that.

“Song and Cascade,” Cinder said. “My brother would probably have you flayed if he knew you’d be conspiring with rebels. What would you say to that?”

Cascade clearly had nothing to say, his wings tucking and his ears flattening. He twitched like he was going to run, but at least he was brave enough not to do that.

“You’re the rebel,” Arcane said evenly. “And I think we both want the same thing. A change for Wintercrest.”

Cinder stared a moment longer, clearly deep in thought. Finally she gestured at the table. “I suppose we can have a few words. You wouldn’t have done anything incredibly stupid, like try to assassinate me.” Her horn glowed faintly, and runes appeared around her, half-formed circles that faded before they could complete. “My mother may not have cared about me, but I learned from her. The bitch of Wintercrest was the most dangerous sorceress who ever lived. Until me.”

Arcane felt quite small in her seat. She folded her forelegs on the table, and was momentarily too stunned to speak. Some part of her wished she had put her old memories away like most fish did. Then there wouldn’t be any pain.

Fortunately, Cascade had given up enough that he wasn’t confused. There was a tiny bit of recognition, though only at the beginning. “Your mother was Lady Word. You don’t sound like you, uh… liked her much.”

The unicorn laughed bitterly, waving a hoof towards the table. “A round, Georgia! I’m thirsty already.” Then she looked back, her expression still bitter. “You cannot imagine, fish. But try, if you will. Imagine you weren’t wanted. Imagine your mother invested every ancient magic into your brother, making him bold and confident and perfect. But you are barely even mentioned.

“Eventually you get old enough, and the city falls into danger, and you stand up to save the day. But everyone loves your brother, and he’s the one who gets the credit. He could fly away like a coward when the ground started shaking, but nopony even cares.”

“We do,” she said, maybe a little too quickly. “We care about the way he’s started treating fish. We think that if you’re going to make Wintercrest a better place for us to live, that you could probably get a lot more support from the ocean.”

“Oh?” Cinder’s eyebrows went up. “Now you’re suggesting I do what my brother accuses me of? Help undermine our security to the ocean? Let you drown us in our beds and worse?”

“Come on,” Arcane snapped. “That’s bucking stupid and you know it. I heard songs about you when I was growing up—you’re old enough to know that fish don’t have to be like that. There was a time not too long ago when we just lived here. And some ponies lived under the sea, too. With enough hard work, we might even be friends one day.”

The unicorn fell silent as their drinks arrived, taking a few hearty drafts. Maybe this was one way to judge her true age, because that ale smelled strong, and she could down it like a sailor.

Arcane sipped delicately at her own glass, face wrinkling at the awful, bready taste. But she wasn’t about to complain in front of the wannabe Lady.

“I’m not going to flood Wintercrest,” Cinder said. “But I could… promise to treat fish the same as ponies. When the dust settles and I’m the one ruling from my family’s ancient castle.”

“Yes,” Arcane answered. “I think that’s enough to get started.”

Author's Note

Anyone who missed it yeseterday, I added a chapter several sections back, making up for stuff I thought I could've done a little better. Thanks to Chatoyance especially for making some very helpful comments, along with everyone else who told me I'd screwed up. The new section can be read here: https://www.fimfiction.net/story/446181/23/fio-homebrew/chapter-23-los-angeles

But that's an end to this story. I like to think that the personal stories of these characters continue on for a great deal longer--maybe even forever. They've obviously still got a great deal to learn.

Thanks to everyone who came along for the ride, and doubly so for those who took the time to leave a comment. My writing schedule doesn't permit me to respond to them the way I used to, but they're still what keep me going, and I love getting your feedback. Even when you're telling me that I screwed up.

I don't have any other Optimalverse ideas, so right now I think of this as the end of my writing in the universe.

But I've thought that the last three times, so... who knows what might be coming down the road. Whenever I think everything that could be done has been done, something else comes to mind. But until I wrap all that up, thanks for tolerating my attempts to write in this world.

Of course, I need to give a huge thanks to Two Bit, whose support made this story possible. He's been with me through thick and thin with all these silly projects, and somehow finds a way to let me write the things l love. I couldn't be more grateful.

And if you absolutely must have more writing like this from me in the meantime, maybe give Synthesis a try. Not quite FiO, but... I think you may enjoy the taste all the same. Artifical intelligent ponies taken a bit of a different direction. Or you could always hop onto my Discord server if you'd like to harass me and tell me to write more. We've got a pretty active bunch on there, and we're always happy to see new pones.