Chapters Chapter 1: The Oncoming Sickness
The sun rose. The moment its light peaked out from over the leafy-green horizon, Celestia opened her eyes. For a moment—as was the case with most mornings—she sat for a moment, confused. Then the memories came back to her, and she smiled. Today was going to be another amazing day.
She sat up from her exquisitely soft bed. Not the exorbitantly large canopy one she had grown to detest in Canterlot, but still one sized for a pony of her unusual size and mass. She turned over and stretched, then pulled herself through the blankets and stepped down into her slippers. The wooden floor creaked pleasantly as she walked to the window and opened it with her magic.
A cool breeze blew through, carrying with it the scent of pines from the forest outside. Celestia stared out toward the sun, watching it rise slowly without her intervention. It was a bizarre feeling she had not yet gotten used to. For over a thousand years, that had been her job. Now, though, her only task was enjoying her retirement.
The morning started as most mornings did. Celestia made her way to the bottom level of the cottage, pausing to offer Philomena a tasty treat and patting the incandescent bird on the head. Then Celestia passed to the kitchen, humming, and ate her normal breakfast of cake left over from the previous day. She paired it with tea that had been part of a large supply gifted by Discord. The tea was delicious, as always, and not at all as chaotic as Celestia had initially expected upon receiving it. Only one in eleven tea-bags was chaotic; otherwise, tea was something Discord took very, very seriously.
After breakfast, Celestia changed. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was not strictly required to wear clothing. She could spend the entirety of the day completely and utterly nude, not needing to don a necklace or crown or special uncomfortable shoes. For this morning, though, she donned a set of shorts, a tank-top, and several pastel sweatbands. She also tied back her flowing mane into, of all things, a ponytail. It was more or less the only hairstyle she could wear, what with having a flowing prismatic plasma mane instead of one actually made of hair.
By nine, she opened the cottage door and stepped into the small front garden. Birds were singing cheerfully and several squirrels and other assorted small creatures passed, running up the mossy stone wall that marked the edge of the front yard. Flowers were blooming, and Celestia paused to smell a set of her very own sunflowers. They of course had no smell, as always, but Celestia had an inkling that she was simply not sniffing hard enough.
On her way out, she passed Luna’s portion of the garden, where several neat rows of vegetables had been planted. Luna was standing in the center of the patch, staring wide-eyed and intently at the ground. Then, without noticing her sister, she cried out as her magic snapped forward.
“AH-HA!” she cried, her magic striking a space between two plants and raising a small, squirming slug.
“Luna, were you up all night again—”
“Standing sentry over my glorious crops? Of course, dear sister!” Luna held up a glass jar filled to the brim with slugs and placed the newly acquired specimen in with the rest. “These foolish pests have attempted an incursion into my precious patch of zuckanees!”
“I think it’s ‘zucchini ‘--”
“SHH! Sister, quiet! You will discourage them!” Her magic flashed out again as she caught another slug. “They must fruit properly if I am to live like a true peasant!”
“You don’t even like zucchini.”
“Not in the slightest! But they are so very easy to grow, are they not?” She picked one and waved it at her sister. “And look how comical they look!”
Celestia took a step back. “And the slugs?”
Luna looked down at the jar. “Disgusting things. I shall gift them to Fluttershy. She likes that sort of thing, no?”
“If I find any under my pillow...”
“Sister, we are not fillies. That only happened once. Per week. That you knew about.” Luna screwed the lid back on the jar and looked at what her sister was wearing. “Going for your morning trot, sister?”
“My diet is mostly cake these days. If I don’t work it off, I’ll have to buy a new bed.”
“Since when has your diet not been cake?”
“You can come if you want.”
“Yes. I can.” Luna started walking back to the cottage, yawning. “But these new circadian rhythms vex me. I shall retire to the cellar.”
“To lick the lids of all the jelly again?”
“I did that ONCE, sister! That you know about!”
Celestia laughed, and Luna smiled as she went back in the door, levitating a pineapple from the bowl of fruit Celestia had left on the table and munching on it. Celestia opened her cottage gate and took off at a slow trot down the garden path, feeling the forest-scented air on her face as she made her way on her morning route.
As an alicorn, Celestia could easily have gone for a fly just as well as a run, although she had found that she greatly preferred the latter to the former. Flight was certainly a privilege she was incredibly grateful for, but it was not an easy thing. Her body was far heavier than that of a Pegasus, and prolonged flight made her back ache. Likewise, she found it boring. The word looked so small from above, and it was a feeling she was already all-too familiar with.
Instead, she liked to run. To see the world passing by at a seemingly immense speed as she trotted along the neat paths through every type of tree she could have imagined. To be alone, save for the greenery and the frogs and birds and other little woodland creatures.
It was hardly even exercise, and certainly not a chore. As an alicorn, Celestia did not tire. Her stamina was limitless. She doubted she even technically needed to sleep, although she enjoyed it greatly. Fatness, however, was a potential issue. Probably. Celestia did not want to take a chance on that one.
The forest she took was one contiguous somewhere and at some point with the Everfree, although less ghastly than the foul swamps that bubbled in its more deeper regions. A much more reasonable place, fit for the construction of the small home she shared with her sister—and not too far from the castle where, so long ago, they had once dwelt in solitude.
Celestia went there sometimes. She had considered rebuilding it, but she did not even like looking at it. There were too many bad memories of it—and worse, too many good ones.
Instead, she took the same path every day. A simple course of two and a half miles, a quite reasonable and proper distance, after which she would take a long bath before truly starting her day. As she ran, she planned what she wanted to do. Perhaps she would go to town to visit, or work on her sunflowers, or don armor so as to challenge a mythical beast in the deeper parts of the Everfree for its precious alchemical reagents. Then when Luna woke up, they would either play checkers or go to the firing range to blow things to bits with their magic.
The thought of all the things she might possibly do was exhilarating, and this kept her cheerful as she ran her small circuit through the winding and beautiful woods. So much so that she did not immediately notice that something was horribly wrong.
A growing sense of unease suddenly occurred to her. Celestia slowed, not sure what it meant. She eventually stopped, trotting in place, before stopping entirely and looking around, utterly bewildered.
She had no idea where she was.
“Wh...what?”
She looked around, suppressing the urge to panic. The birds were still there, singing, and the woodland creatures were still frolicking and playing—but something was horribly amiss.
Her mind could not fathom it. She took the same route every day. Every single day, except when it was raining or cold or when there was too much cake—but she always took the same path. It never deviated. Really, it could not; because of the way it was laid out, there was no possibility of wrong turns.
Except she did not know where she was. She had taken the same path, but was somehow somewhere new. Somewhere she did not recognize—and the dread only grew when she looked behind her at the unfamiliar road and realized that she had no idea how to get back home.
“Wh...no.” She took a breath. “No need to panic. It’s fine. No need to talk to yourself, Celestia. Luna already checked the forest, there’s not a single chicken.” She looked around again. “And...I just need to keep going!”
She kept moving, trotting again, dismissing the sensation she was feeling as a bizarre anomaly. That somehow she had simply never stopped on this particular part of the path and somehow that made it seem unfamiliar.
Except she was sure she had never seen this place before. How there was a rocky precipice on one side, dotted with exceptional laurel flowers, or a pond visible through the pine trees that she was sure she had never seen in her whole life. It was all so peaceful and so beautiful—and yet Celestia felt her breath quicken, as well as her pace.
Something was wrong. She was lost, and she knew it—but refused to accept it because it was impossible. There was no way she could have forgotten something so simple, not when she was so close to home. Except she had. Something was wrong. Terribly WRONG.
Now sprinting, Celststia raced through the forest—and it only grew more and more terrifyingly foreign. Bright, green, peaceful—but totally unfamiliar. Unfamiliar and, to her horror, seeming to repeat. As if she could recognize parts of it from moments before, or maybe from long ago. It was an impossible thing, that she could somehow not place her own memories of this place, and at the same time somehow not remember it at all even though she knew every inch of it.
Confused and terrified, she spread her wings to fly—only to flip onto one side in middle of the path. Celestia cried out in shock and through her tears, realizing that she had somehow forgotten how to fly. Although she had flown so many times before, somehow the thought of how to do it was lost to her. Her wings flailed uselessly, her brain unable to recall something that had formerly been so natural.
Trees. Furry creatures. Fear. Celestia stood up, crying and afraid, not sure what was going on or why it was so terrifying—and as she did, she felt a strange sensation. Like a buzzing, almost, or a brief spell of lightheadedness.
“Sister?”
Luna put her hoof gently on Celestia’s shoulder, and Celestia cried out in shock, nearly falling out of the chair she was sitting on.
“What who how when—” Celestia looked around in a panic, finding her in her own cozy living room. She could not remember having gotten there. One moment she was in the forest; the next, she was at home.
“How did I get here? I was just in the forest and I—” She gasped, her eyes widening. “And I got lost! I was on the same path I take every day, but I—I got lost and—”
“I found you there, yes,” said Luna. “You had collapsed. I hauled you back.”
“You...did?” Celestia looked down at herself. She was naked again, like when she had awoken. Her mane was no longer tied back. She could not remember having done that. “I don’t remember it...”
Luna held her face close to Celestia’s, peering into her sister’s eyes.
“What?”
“Are you feeling better now?”
Celestia looked around the room. It was definitely her house. She saw her coffee table, and her chairs, and a shelf of books and a few of her favorite letters from Twilight Sparkle placed neatly at the corner of a roll-top writing desk. She remembered every object and knew they were exactly where they were supposed to be.
“I...I don’t know.”
“Perhaps you struck your head?”
“I...” Celestia shook her head. “I don’t know what happened.”
“Regardless,” continued Luna. “I am a divine lunar-goddess, not a doctor.”
“Luna, I don’t need a doctor—”
“Exactly. Which is why I instead summoned Twilight Sparkle.”
Celestia sat bolt upright. “Now just wait a minute, Luna, there’s no reason to be extreme!”
Sitting up, Celestia turned suddenly to see Starlight Glimmer lying on her loveseat, sipping some tea.
“Starlight?”
Starlight set the tea down. “Three. Two. One.”
The center of the room erupted with such force that every object contained within the blast radius was hurled outward with devastating force, only to be caught in a field of blue magic. Twilight emerged, hyperventilating, her wings fully erect from the assignment.
“SICK PRINCESS?!” She cried. “Where? WHERE IS SHE?!”
Celestia groaned. This was not how she had wanted to spend her day.
“She’s fine,” said Starlight, returning all of Twilight’s shrapnel to its appropriate locations. Twilight nearly cried out and jumped when she heard Starlight’s voice.
“Starlight?! How’d you get here before I did?!”
“I combined a spatial dislocation spell with a temporal one. I shot backward in time a little bit. I’m actually still at the castle, making a sandwich. I’ll be here in...” She teleported a watch into the room and checked it. “About an hour?”
“STAR,” growled Twilight through gritted teeth. “Stop making me look bad in front of the princess—princesses—princessi?”
Something else exploded on the upper floor. This was followed by an enormous splash of water and a scream of various—and fortunately unintelligible—words.
“Sweet Celestia,” moaned Twilight, hiding her blushing face in her hoof. “You brought HER?”
“Hey, she’s getting better. At least she didn’t materialize halfway into a wall this time.”
There were steps across the floor upstairs, and then down the stairs. Trixie emerged, sopping wet.
“Yeah. You’re gonna need a new toilet. Trixie can totally pay for that, though. Right, Twilight?”
Twilight groaned.
“Twilight,” said Celestia, standing up and feeling oddly shaky, “while I do appreciate seeing you, as always, you do not need to worry about me—”
“Worried? I’m not worried, not at all!” A pile of equipment suddenly emerged from the ether and fell around Twilight. “But just to be sure, I’m going to take some vital signs and some samples.” She held up an enormous empty glass jar. "I'm gonna need this filled. With feathers. Approximately quill-length, if you please."
“Twilight...”
“Twilight and Starlight are two of the best mages in the entirety of the kingdom,” explained Luna, patiently. “And Trixie is...here. I had assumed that contacting them was the best course of action, should the ailment be magical—and should it be something we ought to keep discrete.”
“Discrete? Luna, it’s not a secret. I had low blood sugar and fell down, that’s all.”
“But my tests—”
“Out of the way, Purple.” Trixie shoved Twilight out of the way and jumped up on the coffee table to be eye-level with Celestia. “Let the Great and Powerful Trixie handle this. You don’t need those fancy spells or ‘modern medicine’. The Great and Powerful Trixie is a Learned and Effective practitioner of herbal medicine! Behold!”
Trixie produced a mostly spherical root, held aloft in her magic by its leaves. Then, before anypony could stop her, she began to repeatedly smack Celestia across the face with it.
“Out, demons, OUT!”
“TRIXXXIIIEEE NOOOOO!”
Twilight levitated Trixie and flipped her over.
“What?” said Trixie, flicking the tail of the vegetable across Celestia’s nose. “Whenever I got sick as a filly, my father used to beet me all the time! Trust Trixie, this works!”
“It’s also high treason! You could be HUNG!”
“Oh please, it’s not the first time Trixie’s been hung. I’m a convicted horse-thief in twelve provinces. They haven’t been able to beat the candy out of me yet. Except that one time.”
“Firstly,” said Twilight. “We don’t have provinces, second, horse thievery is called ‘foalnapping’--”
“Besides,” said Starlight, “those were probably just school suspensions.”
“Stop encouraging her!”
“HA! Fools, Trixie never went to school! I can’t even read!”
“Starlight, get me a rope and hold her ankles—”
“Ahem,” said Celestia. Twilight immediately dropped Trixie.
“Princess!” she squeaked, her wings once again becoming fully erect and fluffy. “I wasn’t...really going to...it was just by the ankle—”
“Twilight,” said Celestia. “I’m fine.”
“I—I know—”
“But we’re still a little concerned,” said Starlight, getting off the loveseat. “That’s all. Why don’t we take a trip down to Ponyville, just so we can check you out?”
“But who will be watching the kingdom?”
“My friends, of course. Isn’t that what you taught me? That sometimes it’s okay for a pony to rely on others for help when she needs it?”
Celestia sighed. “I suppose I did...”
“Frankly, I don’t trust them,” said Trixie, still on the floor. “At the rate we’re going, they'll instate communism before you know it. I think one of Twilight’s friends is secretly PINK!”
“It’s not a secret—”
"And communism doesn't work so great," added Starlight. "Trust me. Been there, done that."
Celestia put her hoof to her head, confused for a moment, and trying to regain her composure. Then she looked up at Twilight’s castle.
“Huh? How...how did we get here?”
Twilight looked up at her. “What do you mean? We took the chariot, like always.”
“I don’t...” Celestia put her hoof to her head. “Of course,” she said, still wracking her brain to try to remember the trip. It normally took nearly an hour—but somehow she could recall none of it.
“Well, we’re here now,” said Twilight. “Quickly, to my laboratory!”
“Since when do you have a laboratory?”
“Since forever. And it’s pronounced ‘laboratory’.”
“Twilight, I don’t think it’s pronounced...that….way?”
Celestia stepped down from the last stair into the laboratory and looked over her shoulder, momentarily confused.
“Celestia?”
“It’s nothing.”
The laboratory was large and, for lack of a better word, fancy. Not fancy in a Raritiesque sense, but well equipped, with the walls lined with various scientific and magical equipment as well as racks of artifacts, components, and of course shelf after shelf of reference books necessary for any particular scientific value or standard that might be required in the endeavor of sciencing.
Although the room itself did not look too unlike Twilight’s lab in the root chamber of the Golden Oaks Library—Celestia had read numerous reams of technical descriptions sent by Twilight herself, and had signed the checks to fund the equipment contained within it—this one was larger and filled with much more crystal.
“Has this...always been here?”
“Of course. For whenever I want to science.”
“It used to be the dungeon,” said Trixie, trotting past, her small body laden with a significant amount of science components. “Starlight used to take me down here all the time. There was an iron pony, and a bunch of whips and chains, and blindfolds and ball gags and—”
“TRIXIE!”
“And a rack! You never saw a rack so tiny, though! Let me tell you, I’ve never seen a rack as small as Twilight’s!”
Trixie’s mouth suddenly disappeared in a flash of pink magic, and, surprised, Trixie began to mumble and gesticulate wildly. As Twilight tried to calm her, Celestia took account of the rest of the room. It was mostly full of science things that she did not understand the function of that did not interest her—although slowly, her eyes were drawn to one particular section of the room.
Celestia approached it. That area had a number of artifacts contained in various sorts of special containers, whether they be glass boxes inscribed with bizarre and esoteric golden runes or made of sheet-crystal annealed with special magical salts. Celestia saw a dark gray amulet with a carved alicorn head bearing a severe expression, and beside it a strange and ominous book; nearby, a disturbing scarlet mask on a manikin head stared out blankly and almost hungrily. Below them, a canister filled with a slowly undulating fragment of the darkest shadow, ever reaching toward a stand containing the sharp red tip of a strange curved horn under a bell jar.
The shelves contained many of these cursed and dark things, but one in particular drew Celestia’s attention. One kept separate from the others, one with a special place all its own. It was a glass bell-jar on a specialized pedestal, away and apart from most other things. As she drew nearer, she saw that it contained a thin filament of the deepest crimson—which Celestia realized was a tiny fragment of some unknown type of crystal.
It sat there, floating in the center of the vessel, not moving in particular but somehow distinctly active. Celestia could feel a strange sensation deep within herself made her shudder. Every feather on her wings stood on end, and her hairless alicorn body was covered in goosebumps. She was sure that, somehow, she knew what that thing was—and that she had seen it before.
She took another step, and felt a hoof on her knee. She looked down to see Starlight looking back up at her with a deadly serious expression.
“It’s better if you don’t get near that,” she said.
Celestia looked back at the jar and the crystal within. “What is it?”
“A very dangerous artifact. A fragment of a very particular crystal.”
“Why do you have it?”
“Because we needed it.”
Celestia raised a nonexistant eyebrow, but did not press further. She did not know why, but somehow the thing in that jar—and the fact that she seemed to recognize it—terrified her profoundly.
“Starlight!” cried Twilight. “Where are my examination gloves?!”
Celestia immediately snapped out of whatever peculiar state of mind she had found herself in. Trixie came running up as well.
“Yaw gnorw eht no si htuom ym! YAW GNORW EHT!”
Starlight’s horn glowed, flipping Trixie’s mouth over to the correct orientation.
“What exactly are you intending to examine?” asked Celestia, nervously.
“Your brain, of course!”
“And why do you need gloves for that, Twilight?”
Twilight gaped for a moment. “Um...cleanliness?”
“It’s fine,” said Starlight. She gestured to the examination table. “Just sit down.”
“Of course.” Celestia paused. “This won’t...hurt, will it?”
Twilight and Starlight looked at each other.
“Yes,” said Trixie. “A lot.”
“No,” said Starlight and Twilight angrily.
“Because I...well...” Celestia sighed. “To be honest, Twilight, I hate needles. So very much.”
“Oh, there won’t be any at all!” said Twilight, leading Celestia to the table. “We’re examining your brain, after all!”
“Yeah,” said Trixie. “That would be a HUGE needle.”
“Trixie!”
“Unless we went through the ear?”
Twilight glared at Trixie, and Celestia sat down on the table. She then produced a special hat filled with blinking lights and wires as Starlight attached a number of sticky pads to various parts of her body. Celestia suddenly giggled uncontrollably.
“Starlight, that tickles!”
“Sorry, Princess.”
“No, it’s fine. If it makes Twilight feel better that I’m perfectly fine, I’ll withstand the tickling with all my might.” She then giggled wildly as the wing sensors were attached.
Twilight, now blushing heavily, trotted to her machine, which was spitting out a scroll with a jagged red line. Starlight joined her, examining the same line and producing several books that the two of them poured over. Trixie, meanwhile, sat in front of Celestia.
“Are you not helping them?” asked Celestia.
“Twilight says the best way I can help is not to touch anything at all.” Trixie raised her hoof toward Celestia. “But if you’ll just bend down, I’m willing to give you a boop and take all your power for myself.”
“Trixie!”
“What?! A girl can’t even give boops anymore?!”
“We do not boop the princess!” exclaimed Starlight. “No matter how much we want to!”
“Fine,” groaned Trixie, sitting on her haunches and crossing her forelegs.
“You can boop me later,” said Twilight. "I'm also a princess."
“It’s not the same,” pouted Trixie.
Celestia just chuckled. She was glad that her favorite student had such good friends.
She turned to Twilight and Starlight. “About how long will this take, Twilight?”
“Well, frankly,” said Twilight, looking up. “We’re already done.”
“Really?”
“Well...there’s nothing wrong with you.” Twilight held up the scroll with the line. “I mean, look at this line! It looks perfect! Better than perfect!”
“What she means,” said Starlight, “is that whatever happened to you was transient. It’s not happening right now, so we don’t really have any idea what it is.”
“Well, as I said. I’m fine, Twilight. You have no need to worry.”
“That’s not entirely true,” said Twilight, trotting back to the princess and removing the electrodes and science hat. “We don’t really know very much about alicorn biology. It’s not exactly something we have a lot of examples of, so I was hoping...” Twilight sighed. “Well, I was kind of hoping that we might find something informative. I know that sounds bad, but, well, after Flurry Heart was born...”
“You’re worried about her and Cadence, aren’t you?”
“I’m worried about you and Luna too, I just thought if we knew a little more...”
Celestia lowered her long neck to give Twilight a hug. “Oh, my little Twilight, that’s a very noble thing. You shouldn’t be ashamed at all.”
“Oh—thank you—princess—”
“Trixie didn’t get a hug...”
“That said,” said Starlight, offering the princess a cup of hot tea, “If you don’t mind, it might be better if you stay for a couple of days. Just so we can observe you, in case it happens again. If we see it when it happens, we might get a better idea of what’s going on.”
“I see,” said Celestia, leaning back. “There are better ways to ask me to come for a visit, Twilight, and it might take me a little while to get used to staying in a castle again—but if that is what it takes to make you feel better, then I would be happy to spend a few days with my very favorite student and her friends.” She paused. “That bakery, the one that Pinkie Pie apprenticed in...is it still open?”
“Um...yes? Why?”
“Because I think it might be about brunchtime. Would you care to accompany me for some cake?”
Twilight and Starlight laughed, while Trixie apparently did not understand the joke. They made their way back to the staircase, with Celestia following them—and pausing for just a moment to look back, over her shoulder and staring into the darkened room for a moment. She could not help but feel like something was staring back at her from the blackness.
Chapter 2: Sudden Instability
The day was, as always, beautiful. The sky was clear and brilliant blue, dotted by fluffy and perfectly manicured clouds. The entirety of Ponyville was happy and cheerful with its quaint earth-pony-built houses and happy, cheerful citizens going about their respective days. Everything was brightly lit and colorful, and as Celestia passed the ponies would wave to her and greet her by name.
But some aspect about the whole of it was terribly unnerving. A strangeness that Celestia could not ascribe to any particular place, thing, or pony. It was cheerful and happy, but somehow felt disturbingly wrong. She felt herself instinctively wracking her mind to try to figure it out, while at the same time trying to stop that very process from occurring. Whatever incorrectness was seeping into this happy, fun place, she did not want to know.
Her breathing accelerated. Something about the cheerful buildings disturbed her as she passed them. Despite being brightly lit and vaguely Germanic, they were somehow managing to loom overhead. Something about the glowing, pleasant sky and beautiful weather was pushing something deep within her closer and closer to the verge of panic—and she could not remember why.
“Is something wrong?” asked Twilight who, even with her slightly greater than normal alicorn height, had to move at a breathless trot to keep up with Celestia’s lanky gait.
“Of course not,” liked Celestia. She looked around. “Is Trixie not joining us?”
“She had some errands to run. You would not believe how much maintenance it takes to keep that cart she lives in from collapsing into a heap of dust and assorted nails.” She paused. "Then again, I'd be really surprised if she could even afford nails at all..."
“You could let her sleep inside, you know.”
Twilight shrugged. “Trixie is...abrasive. Both in terms of personality and coat softness.”
“You haven’t tried living with Luna.”
“Do you want me to?”
Celestia stopped and turned to Twilight. “Do you want to?”
Twilight blushed and her wings foomfed outward. As they did, Starlight arrived, trotting cheerfully, a pink box at her side. “Twilight, stop doing that in public. Also, I got the cupcakes, and these little things that are like tiny pies.”
“Tarts,” said Celestia.
Twilight and Starlight looked up at her, shocked, and spoke in unison. “What did you just call us?”
“I...no?”
“Regardless,” said Starlight, continuing, “Sugar Belle makes some premium goods.”
“I heard she’s almost as good as Pinkie.”
Starlight frowned. “Well...”
“Well what?”
“I never liked Pinkie's stuff all that much.”
Twilight and Celestia both gasped.
“What? It was too sweet..and I kept finding confetti in the frosting.”
“That’s the best part,” said Celestia.
“Don’t tell Pinkie Pie,” said Twilight. "She'll switch to glitter again."
“Don't ell me what?” said Pinkie Pie.
Twilight and Starlight cried out, jumping in shock from Pinkie Pie’s sudden presence.
“PINKIE!”
“Yes,” said Pinkie. “I am, generally.” She looked up at Celestia. “Hi, not-princess-anymore!”
“Hello Pinkie Pie.”
Pinkie Pie faced Twilight and Starlight. “Hello, Twilight and other Twilight.”
A look of surprise came over both Twilight and Starlight’s faces, and they looked at each other.
“Pinkie,” said Twilight, exasperated. “We’ve gone over this. Starlight and I are not the same pony.”
Pinkie looked from one to the other, and then back again. “Um...no. I’m pretty sure you are. You even have ‘light’ in your name. I mean, it’s confusing as nuts. Like, why do they have shells? Why do squirrels like them so much? Why did that walnut never come back out of me? These are the questions, Twilight and Twilight, I have to know!”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Pinkie, I thought you were supposed to be in Canterlot today?”
Pinkie shrugged. “Eh. Probably. But I don’t make the rules around here, I just do what the voices tell me.”
“What is that supposed to mean, exactly?”
“No idea! I don't question the voices!” Pinkie Pie giggled, and then departed, bounding away and making an audible springing noise with every small leap. Celestia found herself wondering what part of Pinkie exactly those sounds came from.
“She seems like such a fun pony,” said Celestia, chuckling to disguise her growing unease.
Twilight laughed. “Yes. She’s so random.”
“And I’m definitely not second Twilight,” muttered Starlight. “I mean, she literally helped you defeat me like, seven times!”
Twilight frowned. “We only ever defeated you twice, and Pinkie was only there the first time.”
“Two times you know about, sure.”
“Were there more?”
Starlight, realizing what she was saying, scrunched. “No.”
Twilight sighed and looked around. “Where did the cupcakes go?”
Her and Starlight looked up to see that Celestia had opened the box and eaten several already.
“What?” she said through a mouth full of frosting. “It takes a lot of calories to be an alicorn. You know that, Twilight.” She held out a tart. “You should really eat more, or you’ll get too thin.”
Twilight took the tart. It apparently did not seem appealing to her. “Let’s go get some tea,” she said. “This whole day is already stressing me out. If this keeps up, I'm going to get prematurely wizened. I could use a break.”
“And a tart,” said Celestia. “It has fruit. It is therefore nutritious.”
For tea, they went to the outdoor area in front of Jasmine Leaf’s tea shop. To Celestia, it was adorably quaint—or should have been. She wished it could be a cute little rustic tea house, so she tried to force her growing apprehension about it out of her mind. They took their seats on a corner table on the patio. A special chair had already been brought out for Celestia, which only made her slightly more self-conscious about her weight. That, at least, was a normal feeling. She had never quite gotten used to how large she was.
The waiter, a young and particularly scrawny Pegasus, arrived with their tea. He smiled at Celestia, and Celestial felt a certain tickle inside her—or, rather, the lack of an expected tickle. It gave her pause, feeling the lack of an emotion. A hole, in a way. It made her feel oddly sick, and she wondered if she should have avoided eating the whole box of cupcakes and tarts. Or if she should have at least taken the papers off.
She took the tea and blew on it before gently sipping it. It tasted like leaves, as all tea did.
“Probably better that Trixie isn’t here,” said Starlight, sipping her own tea.
“Does she not like tea?” asked Celestia.
“She hates the stuff. Most food, really. Except for—well, certain things.”
Twilight leaned over and whispered. “She gets gassy.”
Celestia chuckled. “Oh my,” she said. “No wonder you get along so well, then.”
“What?” said Starlight, confused.
Celestia sipped her tea. “I do recall the time you learned you were lactose-intolerant, Twilight.”
An expression of concern crossed Twilight’s face—not one of adorable embarrassment as Celestia had expected.
“I’m not lactose intolerant.”
“You...aren’t?”
“No.”
“Huh.” Celestia sipped her tea. “Maybe I’m getting old.”
Twilight laughed, perhaps too hard. “You’re not getting old at all, Princess! You still look great! I’d even totally, definitely date you if you asked!”
Starlight elbowed her hard in the side. Twilight squeaked and fully regained her composure.
“That would of course be inappropriate and I’m sorry.”
“Perhaps,” said Celestia, taking another sip. “Perhaps somepony closer to your own age? That Flash Sentry fellow seemed quite adorable.”
Twilight frowned. She seemed confused and vaguely concerned. “Do I...normally like stallions?”
Celestia paused. “That...is not a question you should be asking me.”
“Oh.”
Starlight chuckled nervously. “Oh look, it’s Fluttershy! Look how soft she is!”
She pointed, and Twilight looked. Fluttershy was emerging from the store, carrying a small bag filled with freshly prepared teas.
“Fluttershy!” said Twilight.
Fluttershy squeaked, momentarily frightened by somepony calling her name, but upon seeing that it was Twilight, she calmed down immediately and approached the table.
“Hello Twilight, Starlight, and Princess Celestia. Are you trying the new peppermint flavor?”
“I got that one,” said Starlight. “It’s minty. Almost disturbingly so.”
“Just green tea for me,” said Twilight. “Usually no more than forty-seven cups. Gotta stay up late tonight, lots of reading to do. And you?”
“Just getting supplies for my weekly tea party with Discord. Oh! And look at this!” Fluttershy produced a new teaset—a tiny one, identical to the one she currently owned but in miniature.
“That’s tiny!”
“It’s so my little animal friends can join us too! I feel so bad that they can’t have tea when we have the tea party at my house. Except for the ones that can’t have tea, because you know how animal toxicology is.”
“Do I ever,” replied Twilight.
Fluttershy turned to the Princess. “Oh my! I didn’t ask what kind of tea you were having, Princess. I always wondered. I mean, if you’re okay telling me.”
Twilight and Starlight looked to Celestia, who had not spoken to Fluttershy yet—and found her staring wide-eyed, all the way in the back of her seat, shaking.
“Celestia?”
“I don’t...I don’t know who this pony is.”
Twilight laughed nervously. “Celestia, this is Fluttershy. You know Fluttershy.”
Celestia shook her head, turning her wide, terrified eyes toward Twilight. “I..I’m supposed to know, but I can’t...I can’t remember why can’t I...I can’t remember...”
“Princess?” asked Fluttershy, confused.
Princess Celestia stood up suddenly, overturnign the table and spilling the tea, causing Fluttershy to cry out. Twilight and Starlight leapt back.
“What’s happening?!” cried Twilight, looking to Starlight.
“I don’t know, I can’t get a lock yet—”
“I don’t know who she is, why don’t I know, I’m supposed to know, why don’t I...I…I can’t...you’re not—you’re not Fluttershy!”
“Princess, you’re scaring me--”
“You’re not her, you can’t be her, you CAN’T BE FLUTTERSHY!”
Celestia lowered her head, her horn igniting with such force that it ignited the surrounding tables. Twilight was barely able to cast a shield spell to protect herself in time.
Celestia leveled her horn at Fluttershy’s chest.
Fluttershy, tears in her eyes, cried out in terror. “Celestia, why are you doing this!”
Celestia answered by unleashing a devastating solar laser. Fluttershy was incinerated instantly.
Celestia opened her eyes and saw only darkness. She was aware that she had been sleeping—or nearly sleeping. Everything seemed to be in a haze, with memories clamoring over each other, trying to get past her, almost as if she were remembering the past as well as the future. Dreams flashed past her, and she was sure she must have been sleeping. She must have been dreaming.
She was in her bed. Or in a bed. Her groggy mind could still not determine exactly where she was. To her surprise, though, she found that she could not move, no matter how hard she tried.
This caused her to start to panic, but she forced herself to stay calm. She knew what this was. Sleep paralysis. She had never experienced herself but knew it was relatively common with ponies. Her brain had simply awoken before her body and the two had not yet connected. It was a completely normal, reasonable experience, despite being absolutely terrifying.
Therefore, it was simply a matter of keeping calm. Of waiting until her body woke up too. It was night, so she supposed she would have to turn on a light, and she would find herself back in her room at her cottage, where she had been before. Luna would be there, too, and they would have a long discussion about what this all meant, probably devolving into a heated discussion of the theories of Sigmund Freudberger on dream analysis—or, as Luna called him, Sigmund Fraudberger. Assuming that this was not a bizarre prank that Luna herself was playing. If that was the case, it was a very poor one and not at all funny. Second only to the old hoof-in-warm-water trick.
Celestia looked around the room slowly. She knew there would be hallucinations, so she was not surprised to see the ghostly forms of what looked like ponies suspended around her. That was normal. Disturbing, but normal. They were not real. They were just empty things that did not move, dim white shapes floating around her.
She supposed she could just go back to sleep and they would go away. She closed her eyes and felt herself drifting off—when suddenly she was brought to full consciousness by the distant sound of something slamming hard against metal.
Celestia turned her eyes to the lower left. In the darkness, she saw something moving. Something terrible and frightening, a vast mass of pure, inky blackness. A terrible thing hunched over in the shadows, gibbering wildly to itself.
“Dzlierynamandle Trexa chokkar bubudenkulu obodebs, bubuobodebs. Emkaq’le. Atlas de gemovneeb enlungileyew.”
Celestia felt panic dripping down her spine as she heard the meaningless gibberish from the hulking beast, and as she heard the sound of something crunching in its teeth. She tried desperately to move, to wake herself up, but she could not. Her body was simply not responding.
“Come on, Luna,” she said, or tried to say. “This isn’t funny!”
The monster suddenly stopped. Then it turned suddenly and, in the dim light, its reflective eyes stared back at her. Celestia heard herself squeak and knew that she had most likely just ruined the bedspread.
“Kirve!” growled the creature, suddenly standing—and, to Celestia’s horror, it was enormous. A horrendous bipedal beast coated in shadows with a pair of glowing, silver eyes.
“No, please no, please no,”she cried, pleading to just wake up—even as the thing lurched toward her. Celestia, terrified, tried to take a breath but realized she could not fill her lungs. No matter how hard she tried, her chest would not respond. She could not draw breath.
“Kirve, kirve, kirve!”
Celestia closed her eyes, crying softly as the creature loomed over her—and as she felt its claws around her throat, strangling her.
“Yelizaveta, depekt, uvikili!”
“Please no, please stop,” Celestia pleaded, not even sure she was making sounds—as the lack of air began to surround her, as she began to fade from consciousness, strangled in her bed and unable to resist as the claws tore at her body and the silver, unblinking eyes stared down at her.
As she felt herself fading, she wished that she could have said goodbye. To Twilight, and to Luna, and to all her friends—but she was glad they could not see her like this. To see how a once powerful princess came to her end. Powerless and weak, and alone in darkness.
Exactly how she had always feared it would come.
Chapter 3: The Terminal Dreamer
With a scream, Celestia sat bolt upright. She looked around, confused as to where she was, ready to fight off the monster now that she had regained her ability to move. She threw a punch to where she was sure it was—and punched Luna directly in the nose. Luna was promptly knocked to the floor.
“LUNA! Oh no, I've booped you too hard!”
“I’m fine,” said Luna, standing up, and holding her nose, a thin stream of silver dripping from it. “I should have expected that. Regardless, you still hit like a little filly. A very small one. Just like one thousand years ago.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” Celestia looked around, still confused. “Where—where am I?”
“Twilight’s bed.”
Celestia froze. She immediately lifted the blankets, peering under them.
“No,” sighed Luna, rolling her eyes. “She is not in there with you.”
Celestia let out a sigh of relief. “Thank me...”
“She should be on her way, though—”
As soon as Luna said it, Twilight came rushing into the room, stopping so suddenly that her hooves skittered over the crystal tile. She would have fallen over had Starlight’s magic not caught her.
“Celestia!”
“Twilight. I’m—I...” The memories came back at once, and she cried out. “Fluttershy!” she said. “I think I—I think I’ve done something terrible—”
“Fluttershy’s fine,” said Starlight. “You yelled at her, and it scared her, but she’s fine. Physically, at least.”
“But I struck her with my magic, I saw her body...she...”
“You never did that,” said Twilight, sounding confused. “You started yelling and then you...well, you collapsed. Starlight and I got you back to the castle and we got Luna right away.”
Celestia turned to her sister. “Luna, I...something...happened...”
A third pony sauntered into the room. Trixie, who was chewing on something very crunchy, swallowed and then shivered. “Ugh. The Great and Powerful Trixie HATES spiders. Stupid spiders. Such tiny brains and so many legs.” She shuddered, then looked up at the room looking at her. “What? Did I miss something?”
Celestia sighed. “Twilight. I’m sorry. I should have kept my composure better.”
“No, no, Princess, it’s not your fault!” Twilight ran to her bedside. “We shouldn’t have gone outside, not with you in your state! We should have just stayed inside and read a book! Nothing bad ever happened from somebody reading a book!”
“Except that one book Trixie read with weird face on it,” said Trixie. “That...went poorly.”
“Stop lying, Trixie, we know you can’t read!”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie knows nothing at all! Her ignorance is exquisite and utterly perfect!”
“We know,” sighed Starlight, entering the room and approaching Celestia. “That was scary, but we got you back, and that’s what counts. And we got some readings.”
Celestia saw Twilight’s expression darken severely.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“It’s fine,” said Twilight. “It’s okay.”
“Twilight," said Celestia, firmly but kindly, "you were always bad at lying.”
Twilight looked up at Celestia, tears welling in her eyes. She wiped them away. “You’re right, Princess. I’m sorry. But I’m going to make you a promise. We’re going to figure this out, okay? And everything’s going to be alright in the end. I promise.”
Celestia smiled softly and gently hugged Twilight. Then she faced Starlight. “How bad is it, Starlight?”
Starlight, her own expression dark, took a breath. “Alicorn brains are different from other pony brains. But...to put it bluntly...”
“Please don’t be blunt,” whined Twilight.
“You’re in the process of kicking the bucket,” said Trixie. "Hard."
“TRIXIE!”
“What, she wanted it blunt!”
“No bucket is being kicked!” said Starlight, her voice a harsh growl. She cleared her throat and turned back to Celestia. “Princess. You’re having a level of cognitive decline. Now, it might be an isolated occurance. That could be it. Just too much stress, or an injury maybe, or you ate something bad.”
“That’s probably it,” said Twilight. “I’m sure it is.”
“Or?” demanded Celestia.
“Or,” continued Starlight, taking a deep breath. “It could be degenerative.”
“Dementia.”
Starlight nodded.
“I see.” Celestia turned to her sister. “Then you need to screen Luna too. If it’s affecting me, it’s sure to be affecting her too. Even if it ends up being too late for me, she doesn’t have symptoms yet. She might still have time.”
“Celestia, no!” cried Twilight. “It’s not too late! We can still fix this! I made a promise, didn’t I?”
“Twilight, I’m over a thousand years old.” Celestia patted her head. “To be honest...I have been considering that this day would come eventually. I just didn’t think it would be so...soon.” She paused, then chuckled, humorlessly. “Look at me… ‘soon’. After fifteen pony lifetimes, and I’m still not ready.” She shook her head. “But that doesn’t matter. Luna—”
“Was in stasis on the moon for a thousand years,” said Starlight. “While you took the long way around. She should be safe. But I can run the tests if it will make you feel better.”
“Meaning you do not need to worry about me, dear sister,” said Luna. “And, additionally, you do not need to worry about yourself. We have faced much greater challenges than this. You did manage to send me to the moon, after all.”
“We’re going to handle this,” said Starlight. “And do everything we can, no matter what it takes.”
“But for the time being,” said Luna, “I will be staying in the castle with you. So that our friends can do their tests and create a cure.”
Celestia looked to her sister, and to the other ponies. Then she nodded. “Alright,” she said. “If you think you can help, I suppose I’m trusting in you, my faithful student.” She patted Twilight on her head, and Twilight sniffled. “Do what you can, and I’ll do what you ask.”
Sitting at Twilight’s kitchen table, Celestia slowly ate the frosting off a cupcake. As she did, a platter was pushed onto the table. In the center of it was a bowl of soup.
Celestia leaned over the edge of the table and looked down to see Spike placing the platter.
“It’s soup,” he said. “I made it. Twilight said you were sick, and whenever I get sick she makes me chicken-noodle soup.”
“Chicken?” Celestia peered into the bowl. “Are there...chickens in there?”
“It’s just a name. Like how toothpaste doesn’t have any teeth in it. It’s just noodles and broth.”
“Of course. Thank you, Spike.”
“You’re welcome, Princess. If there’s anything you need, just let me know. I’m always around here somewhere.”
Spike waved as he went off to help Twilight and Starlight, who were no doubt deep in Twilight’s library pouring through books to find what precious little was known about alicorn neurobiology.
Across the table, Luna sat down.
Celestia looked up. “Sister,” she said.
“Celestia.”
“I have to ask. Did you have anything to do with the dream I had?”
“Dream?”
Celestia pulled the soup closer and levitated a spoon, but ended up just staring at its watery surface. “I couldn’t move. And I saw...things. Like ponies all around me, but they didn’t move. And then there was a thing...a horrible thing. Speaking gibberish. And it...came to choke me.”
“That sounds like a sleep paralysis demon. I’ve had it a few times myself.”
Celestia looked up. “You didn’t have anything to do with it, though?”
“Sister. I would never do that to you. I have always endeavored to make your dreams as pleasant as I can. That said, I am not the originator of dreams. I merely guide them. And when I tried to reach you, I could not.” She paused. “Which makes me...concerned. Afraid, even. Which I suppose is why I am not so enthused by the thought of leaving your side.”
“Even if it means you have to watch me...go?”
“You’re not ‘going’ anywhere, sister.”
“But if I was, would you...still be here?”
Luna got up and moved her stool closer to her sister. She sat on it, and put her hoof on Celestia’s. “I am going nowhere, sister. Nowhere at all.”
Celestia smiled and took a spoonful of soup. It tasted like water.
"Besides, I was losing the war on those zukkanees. In would rather be here to escape the dire shame of defeat." She paused, sighing. Then she smiled to Celestia. “We can take a walk later if you like."
Celestia shook her head. “I...I don’t think I can go back to Ponyville.”
Luna raised an eyebrow. “Why, sister?”
Celestia stared at the far end of the table. “Because...it’s wrong.”
“That makes no sense. If there were perversion or heresey, I would have rooted it out by now.”
“No. You don’t understand. Not in a moral sense but in a...I don’t know how to describe it.” Celestia paused, thinking. Then an analogy occurred to her. “Its the buildings. Something about them. Like, if I walked up to one and threw open the door, there wouldn’t be anything on the other side. It would be empty, or the doors just wouldn’t even work. Like they’re buildings on an old movie set.”
“We can check the doors, Celestia.”
“NO! No, no we can’t because...” Celestia paused, then took another breath. “Because I’m even more afraid I might see it. I couldn’t take it. It would break me.” She paused again, putting her head in her hooves. “And the ponies...the ponies.”
“The ponies?”
An image flashed into her mind. Of what had claimed to be Fluttershy. Of her face staring back at her, her skin sallow and strange, like wax or plastic, and her eyes enormous and dead even as her lips moved and she spoke in a bizarre monotone about tea. A face that was not a pony, and not Fluttershy.
“It’s like they’re not them. I don’t know how to explain it. Like if I threw open their doors, there would be no ponies inside.”
“Sister?”
“I know she’s Fluttershy. Of course I do. But my brain didn’t recognize that. Like she was somepony else entirely...”
“Like a changeling?”
Celestia shook her head. “No. Changelings replicate ponies perfectly, but she didn’t. She was...something else. Something way too obvious.” She thought for a moment, wracking her brain to try to understand her own subconcious thought process. Something so firm, and yet at once so ephemeral. “But...not something I think was supposed to be obvious at all.”
“Starlight suggested that this is a manifestation of Capgras Syndrome. A part of your condition.”
“I don’t really need to know it’s name. It’s just...unpleasant.” Celestia sighed. “I couldn’t imagine looking at you and...and seeing you like that. Like you not being you.”
“I am me. I always have been. I think I always will be.” She paused. "Except for the brief period when I was not, I suppose..."
“That’s more than I can say for myself. Luna, I think I’m going mad.”
“If you weren’t mad you’d never have become a princess in the first place.” Luna patted her sister’s shoulder. “Eat your soup. Rest. Spend time with Twilight. She is gravely concerned.”
“And you’re not?”
“She became a princess herself, did she not? I have faith in her abilities.”
Celestia pondered for a moment, then smiled. “I guess you’re right,” she admitted. “If anyone can fix this, it’s Twilight.”
Celestia sat, alone, somewhere on Twilight’s roof. Escaping the others was not an easy thing, especially for perhaps the largest pony in all of Equestria, but Celestia had lived well over a thousand years and knew how to vanish quickly and silently when necessary.
This was the first time she could remember, though, that it was for her own sake.
In the cooling breeze, she looked west, watching as the sky ignited from the glow of the setting sun. She watched it and, all alone, when no one was relying on her to be strong, she cried.
She knew it was unfair—that she should be sad when it had been so long. When better ponies than her had aged and departed before she had even grown out of foalhood. That her immortality was a gift offered to so very few—and that she had taken it for granted that alicorns would always live forever.
There was so much she had not done. She had never fallen in love. She had never had children. She had never traveled the world, instead spending century after century in the same boring castle. There were so many adorable animals she had never even seen outside of books, and epic discussions—and equally epic battles—with philosophers, wizards, and scientist alike that she would now never have—and there were even, out there, somewhere, types of cake she had not yet even tasted.
Worst of all, it occurred to her that there were so many ponies that could have been her friends that she had simply never met, who had lived out their whole lives without her knowing. Perhaps her best friend could have been out there, somewhere. Or perhaps that pony would come after she was gone.
She imagined her funeral, and how sad her current friends would be. Twilight would be so sad, and so would Luna, although she would pretend to be stoic. Even Philomena, herself an immortal creature, in a sense, would weep phoenix-tears, perhaps not understanding why her oldest friend would not wake up.
This thought made her sadder than all the others. Her life had been long, and she had chosen how to live it—but making other ponies sad made her the saddest. The thought of her, lying in state in a casket—or worse, Twilight and her friends watching her slow decline as she lost her faculties. As their once strong and beloved princess became a frail, damaged thing before them. Before she herself became a burden before the final end.
Most frightening of it all, though, was the inevitability. It was something Celestia had never faced, and something she had never understood. The very thought of it was like a hammer to her mind, straining and fragmenting pieces of her in ways she could barely have ever even begun to comprehend. It frightened her, as did the powerlessness of it all. That there might very well be nothing she could do to change it.
She knew Twilight would try to help. She knew Luna trusted Twilight and that she herself trusted Twilight more than any pony in all of Equestria—but she knew her student, and knew her well. That Twilight was acting out of desperation. That she was trying to solve a problem that might have no solution. That there were some feats that magic simply could not accomplish.
Celestia sniffled and dried her tears on her wings and stared out at the sun. She could not help but smile, realizing that she was like the end of a day. Her most beautiful years had been the last nine, just as the most beautiful minutes of the sun’s course were its very last. That thought was the only one that comforted her—and she resolved to do her best. That when it came to her end, she would protect those that mattered to her. No matter what it took.
“And this one?”
Trixie flipped a card and Celestia stared at the picture she held in her magic.
“Coco Pommel, Rarity’s friend.”
“Correct.” Trixie flipped. “And this one?”
“Junebug.”
“Correct. This one?”
“Thunderlane.”
“Correct. This one?”
“Twinkleshine.”
“Correct. This one?”
“Blossomforth.”
“Correct. And this one?”
“Fluttershy.”
“Correct. And this one?”
Celestia looked at the picture. “That’s you. Trixie.”
“Incorrect!”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “The Great and Powerful Trixie?”
“CORRECT!”
Trixie flipped again.
“That’s...the Great and Powerful Trixie. Again.”
“Correct! And this one?”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie.”
Trixie flipped the next flashcard and reveled yet another version of her face, crudely scrawled in crayon.
“Trixie!” snapped Starlight. “Stop messing with the flashcards!”
“But Trixie likes it when the Princess says her name! Who’s this?”
Starlight knocked the deck of poorly-drawn Trixie cards out of Trixie’s magic. Trixie squealed. “My selves! No, I need those! What if I forget who I am?!”
“You’ll be fine. That's only happened, what, four times? Six?” Starlight shrugged and approached Celestia with a measuring tape. “Raise your left leg.”
Celestia did so.
“Right wing, adducted.”
Celestia did so.
“Right wing abducted, left wing adducted.”
“Is this really necessary?
“Left leg. Yes.” Starlight frowned and looked to Twilight. “Motor control functions are at eighty one point six percent normal parameters.”
“Is that bad?” asked Celestia.
Twilight looked up from her notebook. She was wearing a set of broad glasses that made her look absolutely adorable. “We don’t really expect to see a decrease in motor control with this type of problem, but I’ll make a note of it. I can work on calibrations later.”
Celestia sighed. “Never had I ever thought the day would come when my own student would be giving me calibrations.”
Twilight blushed. “I—I didn’t mean like that! Like physical therapy!”
“Are you saying I’m old and arthritic?” Celestia frowned. “Wait a minute...what did you think I meant by ‘calibrations’?”
Twilight’s shade deepened and her wings extended suddenly.
“N...nothing?”
Celestia laughed. “Twilight, I’m joking. You know I was once the Element of Laughter, don’t you? Just because I’m dying doesn’t mean I can’t make a joke or two.”
“You’re not dying,” insisted Twilight. “You’re sick, and I’m going to cure you.”
“Trixie can cure you faster,” said Trixie. “If SOMEPONY would just return Trixie’s beet.”
“I will not tolerate herbal medicine! It has not been systematically validated! It's just magical thinking! And not the effective kind!” snapped Twilight. She turned to Celestia. “Princess, could you take a seat?”
Celestia did so. She was once again in Twilight’s basement laboratory, and the room seemed to have grown—in fact, it almost seemed to grow to whatever size it needed to be to accommodate the battery of tests. Strangely, the artifact section had been relocated to somewhere where she could no longer see it. Which was probably a good thing. It gave Celestia the proverbial willies.
“Okay.” Twilight flipped through her notes. “Facial recognition is good. Motor control is decreased but acceptable.”
“Pending calibrations.”
Twilight’s wings twitched. “Neural scans have detected nothing out of the ordinary, and the electrocardiogram was normal.”
“Proving that you do, in fact, have a heart,” said Trixie. “After what you did to Cozy Glow, we were not actually sure on that.”
Celestia tilted her head. “Who is Cozy Glow?”
Twilight, Starlight, and Trixie looked at each other. Twilight’s violet quill flicked on the page.
“No one,” said Twilight. “No one at all. Not a real pony. It’s fine. It’s fine, isn’t it Starlight?”
“It’s fine,” agreed Starlight. “Totally fine.”
“Totes malotes,” added Trixie.”Also, good chance you’re totally out of your solar gourd.”
Starlight inverted Trixie, and Twilight cleared her throat.
“For the next test, I’m going to ask a few questions, okay? And you just need to answer them honestly.”
“What will this test do?”
“Science!”
Celestia sighed. “Then go ahead, Twilight.” She curled up to a more comfortable position. “Let’s see what you have to ask.”
“Okay. First. What is your name?”
Celestia stared for a moment, then sighed. “Twilight...”
“No. That’s not correct,” said Trixie, crossing her arms. “Even Trixie knows that. Most of the time.”
“It’s just part of the test,” asked Twilight. “Please?”
Celestia sighed again. “Celestia. I don’t have a surname.”
Twilight wrote it down. “And your exact age?”
Starlight winced. “Twilight—”
“I don’t know exactly,” said Celestia, “you lose count after a while. Somewhere around one thousand twenty I suppose.”
“What is your favorite food?”
“Broccoli.”
Twilight looked up. “Wait, what?”
“Twilight. Are you asking me on a date or what? Stop asking questions you already know the answer to.”
“Right, right...” Twilight cleared her throat. “Scenario one: you are walking down the street and you find an abandoned puppy in the park. It’s rainy and the puppy is sad. It looks injured. What do you do?”
“I take it with me. Once we get home, I deploy a healing spell and make sure it’s warm and fed. Then I’d let Luna play with it until I can have the royal dogcatcher find its family.”
“And if you can’t find its family?”
“Then I have a puppy.”
“Scenario two: you are in the castle basement and move a box and a massive centipede comes out. Like, a truly massive one. Borderline monster size. What do you do?”
“Is it injured?”
“What?”
“Is the centipede injured?”
“No, it’s a centipede.”
“I catch it and take it upstairs. I make sure it is warm and fed. Then I’d let Luna play with it until I can have the royal centipedecatcher find its family.”
Twilight frowned, and Celestia was not sure why.
“O...kay. Scenerio three. Changelings are invading. What do you do?”
“Considering that has happened twice already, I sound the alarm and try to avoid getting captured this time. I still can’t get that goo out of my mane. And my mane is plasma.”
“It IS plasma,” admitted Trixie, reaching out to stroke it. “Oh, she’s good.”
“Scenerio four,” continued Twilight, slapping away Trixie's hooves. “Something’s happening and the castle is invaded. The guards are overwhelmed and you can’t escape. They have you cornered and they attack Luna. What do you do?”
“Defend Luna. At any cost.”
“I see. Even if you could get hurt?”
“Of course.”
Trixie, who had been barely paying attention, suddenly leaned forward. A strange smile crossed her face. Celestia had never seen one quite like it, and for a brief moment she could have sworn that she saw sharp points on the ends of Trixie’s teeth.
“What if you had to kill somepony?”
Twilight and Starlight gasped, with Twilight going so far as to almost squeak.
Trixie’s smile grew. “If there was no other way. No alternative. Luna’s life is on the line, and you have a clear shot right to the heart. What do you do, Celestia? Do you take the shot?”
“TRIXIE! You can’t just ask a question like that! Ponies don’t kill, not ever—”
“I would do whatever it takes,” said Celestia. Without hesitation.
Twilight and Starlight froze, and turned back to Celestia slowly.
“P...Princess?”
“If it comes down to it, I will do whatever is required to protect the ponies I care about. If there is no other way...well...” Celestia sighed. “This is something you will come to understand some day, Twilight. A princess must sometimes make hard decisions. I just hope you never have to make that one.”
Starlight looked down at the ground, and Twilight looked like she was about to vomit.
“Of...course.”
“Do you have any other questions?”
“No. Not...not anymore.” Twilight led the papers on her clipboard close. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “The last part of the day is the stress test. There will be running on the laboratory track. Starlight already prepared the lure.”
Starlight held up what looked like a poorly sewn and excessively fluffy version of a raccoon, hanging by a string attached to where its head would ostensibly be.
“I appreciate the thought,” lied Celestia. “I need to change. And so does Trixie.”
Trixie’s eyes widened. “Wait, why me?”
“Because a race is no fun if I don’t have somepony to race with. Even if I get to chase...that. And you seem especially energetic today. Why not go for a run?”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie doesn’t like to...sweat.”
“You’re young and fresh. You’ll be fine.”
“Do it Trixie,” said Starlight, chuckling to herself—or pretending to. “Race the princess.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“Because Twilight and I need to keep an eye on the observations for anomalies.”
“You do, yes,” said Celestia. “But Twilight will be participating in the flight component.”
“I will be—wait, what?”
Celestia pointed. “Anypony with wings, raise your hoof?”
She raised her own hoof, and Twilight did as well, looking at Starlight. Starlight just shrugged.
“Road apples,” swore Twilight. “I need shorts.”
“You can borrow Trixie’s,” said Trixie. “They’re extra tight. Trixie shall go bottomless, as per usual.”
Twilight shuddered. “Trixie, stop making it weird!”
“You’re the one who wants to get into Trixie’s shorts, Twilight.”
Twilight became flustered, and Celestia pretended to laugh sincerely.
Celestia stepped out of the steamy bathroom, patting down her prismatic mane with a towel before wrapping the towel around her head. Her naked body was still supple and damp, but otherwise moist, and she took a breath as she felt the cold air of Twilight’s castle flowing over her warm and hairless body.
Luna was waiting for her outside.
“I suppose I will not be receiving any hot water, then?”
“Since when do you bathe in the middle of the day?”
“Since when do I even bathe?”
“Eew, Luna!”
Luna smiled. “I am of course joking, I am scented of lavender and valerian. Such is the floral musk of a princess.”
Celestia chuckled. "You do have a lot of musk."
“So,” said Luna. “How did your test go? Hopefully better than when were foals and Starswirl sprung one of his infamous pop-quizzes upon ourselves. Especially the ones with the atronachs.”
Celestia paused. “I’m not sure. They’re being...secretive.”
“Secretive?" Luna raised an eyebrow. "How so?”
“I’m not sure.” Celestia paused, rubbing water out of her mane with the towel. “But...I did realize something.”
“Something? What manner of something?”
“Just a thought. A weird thing. Something that doesn’t quite make sense.”
Luna raised the other eyebrow. “Do tell.”
“I tried to take a look back at my life. Because, as you are aware, the dying.”
“You’re not dying.”
“So I’m told, but that’s not the point. I tried to look back at everything I’ve done and...I can’t remember any of it.”
Luna seemed confused by this. “This is indeed a problem—”
“No, I don’t think so.” Celestia shook her head. “It’s the strangest thing. It doesn’t quite bother me. Not like...her.” She shivered, thinking of Fluttershy’s plastic face and empty eyes. “But it’s not normal either. For example. I can’t remember my birthday.”
“It’s in the middle of summer.”
“No. As in, a celebration. A party. Not a quasi-religious festival.”
“You have led a very busy life, sister.”
“But not one birthday. Not even feeling sad because I had to work on it. I’m over a thousand years old, and I can’t remember a single birthday?” Celestia felt her pulse quicken. “In fact, I can’t remember ANYTHING over the past thousand years. That’s ten centuries I can’t even recall. I remember a thousand years ago, fighting Discord and Sombra and...well...”
“Me.”
Celestia nodded. “And I remember the day you came back, when Twilight first wrote me about the prophecy. But there are ten centuries in between where I cannot recall a single event. Not one.”
“You need to report this to Twilight. Immediately.”
“It goes deeper than that,” said Celestia, ignoring her sister’s concern. “I remember...snippets. Events. I remember the Summer Sun Festival in Ponyville, and judging a dessert contest, or trusting Philomena with Fluttershy and for some reason not telling her that phoenixes regenerate by self-immolation...I remember Cadence’s wedding, and Twilight getting her cutie mark...”
“That would have happened before.”
“Except that’s not how I remember it. But the point is, what else was I doing? Why don’t I have any memory of my daily life? Why do all my memories have Twilight in them?”
Luna stared at her, then shrugged. “That is much above my pay grade, sister. But I am concerned. This may be an aspect of your condition.”
Celestia smiled. This seemed to confuse Luna.
“What it sounds like to me,” said Celestia, “is a mystery.”
Luna seemed exceedingly confused. This state, it seemed, was rather persistant. “Sister?”
“What better to take my mind off this whole dying business than uncovering a plot?” Celestia began to trot off. “This is so exciting!”
She trotted off, and Luna watched her go—along with Twilight, standing beside her, dressed in black and watching in silence.
“То не иесть добрей,” she said, slowly.
“No,” replied Luna. “It is most certainly not.”
Chapter 5: Things Best Left Unknown
It was night, or nearly night. Another sunset had passed—or so Celestia had thought. She was noticing inconsistencies in time. Spaces where she blacked out and hours seemed to pass. That was a frightening thing indeed, but Celestia did her best not to think about it. If it related to her sickness, it was best she ignored it until it truly became a problem.
Instead, she went for a walk. Through Twilight’s extensive crystalline castle, with its seemingly hundreds of frigid, empty, vaguely luminescent rooms. All identical and all devoid of any apparent purpose. But she was looking for one in particular and, in time, found it.
Celestia came to the library. It contained the remnants of Twilight’s book collection from the ruins of the Golden Oaks Library, as well as new acquisitions including a substantial number from the Starswirl Wing in Celestia’s own Canterlot Library. Which, she supposed, she still technically owned.
Pausing, Celestia inspected the room. She had anticipated that Spike might be engaged with moving tomes, which she imagined was the primary task he was assigned to considering how well she knew his quasi-mother/sister. Excessive reshelving was, after all, her greatest vice.
Spike, though, was not present, and Celestia carefully sauntered into the vast semicircular room. It smelled familiar, like old paper. The smell of books, and also the smell of Twilight herself, minus her natural princess musk of grape scent.
Celestia scanned the books, to her surprise finding that the spines did not have titles. That was not altogether too unusual; many older, more serious books lacked such markings. Instead, Celestia followed Twilight’s shelving system—the system that she herself had invented—and found her way to the history section, or where she thought the section should have been. Her horn lit, and she took down one of the several books on a higher shelf.
The cover was brick-red, bound in an indeterminate material. No title was inscribed on the front, or on the first few pages.
Celestia kept turning the pages, and felt goosebumps break out over her body. The entirety of the book was blank. The pages were just pages devoid of text, pictures, or even numbers.
She reached up and took down another. This one was dull green, bound in the same material. She opened it and found that it, too, was blank.
Celestia jumped as she heard a sudden and alien sound. She looked up to one of the library’s high windows and saw a raven perched there, staring back at her.
“A bird,” she said. “My, aren’t you up late? Did living with Fluttershy get too constricting?” Celestia sighed, flipping through the blank book. “I know the feeling.”
Something black fluttered behind her.
“Celestia,” said a voice, causing Celestia to jump a second time.
“Oh my!” she said, turning to see Twilight just as surprised as she was. “Oh dear, Twilight! Please don’t sneak up on me like that! I'm too old for sudden shocks!”
“Oh my Celestia, sorry! I didn’t know I was that quiet, I—” Twilight gasped, then put her hoof over her face, blushing. “And that figurative expression is so much more awkward when it’s you...”
“I find it hilarious,” said Celestia, closing the book she was holding. Twilight’s eyes were immediately drawn to the tome, and Celestia watched them closely.
“Looking for something in particular?” asked Twilight. “I have the second largest collection in all of Equestria. Second to your own, of course, but I’m sure I have something here you haven’t read yet.”
“I am a thousand years old, Twilight. I might have you beat when it comes to the number of books I’ve read.”
“You’d be surprised. I think I might even have a copy of the Ponynomicon around here somewhere. It’s bound in genuine pleather, the most illegal fabric.”
“Oh no, Twilight. I was looking for something more...historical.”
Twilight frowned. The tone of her voice changed almost imperceptibly. “Like what?”
“Well, I was thinking back on my life, as one does, and I’m afraid I’ve lived so long I may have forgotten some things. I was hoping to jog my memory and read about my own history. Something I’m very privileged I can say. So I came to your historical section and, well...” Celestia smiled slightly and held out her book. “I was wondering why, exactly, you keep blank books on your shelf.”
Twilight’s frown deepened, and she raised an eyebrow. “Blank? That book’s not blank.”
“Twilight, I assure you, I checked every page—” Celestia looked down at the book and nearly dropped it. The green cover which had formerly been completely blank was now inlaid with a title and author written in gold—the book was called “The Last Unicorn” by somepony named P.S. Beagle.
“Wh...what?” Celestia opened the book and saw that it was completely filled with text—and even a few pictures added in the center of a majestic white unicorn.
“Celestia, are you feeling okay?” asked Twilight, sounding only somewhat concerned but otherwise disturbingly cold. “Do you have a fever, maybe?”
“No, I just...I just...”
Twilight sat on her haunches and stroked her chin. “If you’re having memory or perception issues, that’s very strange, and it might explain your Capgras syndrome. Which leads me closer to the idea of a disease with a magical etiology.”
“Magical?”
Twilight nodded. “Like a curse, or a hex, or maybe a jinx, even. Possibly even a bewitchment, although those are very rare in this day and age since the invention of a good and proper hex. Perhaps an enchantment but, as you know, that’s VERY unlikely without swallowing a soul-gem.” She laughed to herself, but then cleared her throat and continued. “Anyway, if that’s the case, then we need to approach treatment completely differently. I hadn’t considered it before...” Twilight frowned. “But if you got yourself cursed, that means somebody had to curse you.”
“Somepony cursed me? Like who?”
Twilight shrugged. “You’re the most important pony in all of Equestria, and we know for sure you have tons of enemies. I've ended most of them. But to curse you in particular, it had to be somebody close.”
“Like who?”
Twilight’s violet eyes met Celestia’s. “That I can’t answer. And it probably doesn’t even really matter. We can take a look at this from a magical perspective, but curses are very, very complicated and it will take time. Hexes are even worse, and don't get me started on jinxes. I could write seven books on that. Real thick ones. With no pictures, because I keep the diagrams in the appendix volume because I'm not a dang savage." She remembered what she was talking about and once again cleared her throat. "We can start tomorrow, because you need to rest.”
“I’m not tired, Twilight.”
“I figured. I came up here to find you. We were going to have dinner. Spike’s making omelettes, and I know what you’re thinking, omelettes for dinner? But trust me, he’s a master at eggs. All the veggies came from town, and the eggs came from Fluttershy.”
Celestia frowned. “Twilight. I think we discussed this. Just because they have wings—”
Twilight blushed and gasped, clapping her hooves over her mouth. “Not like that! NOT LIKE THAT! Her chickens! CHICKENS! Like Elizabeak! The food that comes out of their chicken butts!” She winced, cringing with great vigor. "And those are the things you're terrified of because of your alektorophobia..."
Celestia considered for a moment. “It’s technically a cloaca—”
“Yes, I know, I had that conversation with Ember and I don’t want to relive it.” Twilight closed her eyes and groaned. “We were going to have peas, but we had to immerse Trixie in them for the soreness. From making her exercise for once. And frankly, my wings feel like they’re about to fall off. I won’t even be able to preen properly tomorrow morning...”
“I’m not preening you, Twilight.”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “I...no. NO. No peas! We don’t have peas! But you’ve got to be hungry after a performance like that! How the heck are you that fit?”
“Despite being old and fat?”
“I didn’t say either of those because both are high treason!”
“Not technically, I’m retired.” Celestia put the book back on the shelf and followed Twilight to the door. “And my legs and wings are twice the size of you. Of course I can run and fly. I additionally would have won a horn measuring contest, it’s a matter of age. I’m sure you’ll grow eventually too. Hopefully. But yes. I am hungry. An omelette would sure be nice. Then maybe I can read a little before bed.”
Twilight smiled. “Of course you can.”
Dinner was served in the castle dining hall. It was a surprisingly large room. From the décor, no doubt something that Rarity helped design. It was excessively expansive, but because of the acoustics of the crystal Celestia could hear everything. Every fork scraping against ceramic, every clink of a glass against the crystalline table. All of it was so terribly grating.
Twilight was there, with Spike, as well as Starlight and Luna on either side of the table. Trixie was placed in the farthest possible corner, and Celestia at the head of the table. She had been given an omelette and, having tasted it, knew that it was exquisite. Her brain told her that it tasted just like an omelette, and a very good one. Except that it did not actually have any taste at all.
Trixie was the only one with different food. She had been given a bowl of small fruits, and was eating them slowly, an expression of contemplation on her face that slowly turned to one of disdain.
Starlight groaned. “What is it, Trixie? You’re making the face.”
Trixie looked up. “These schnozzberries...they taste like schnozzberries!”
Starlight rolled her eyes and her horn flashed. An enormous vegetable materialized, falling to the table with enough force to shake their various glasses. It closely resembled a cucumber, except that it was massive and warty, with the overall color being stripes of black and white. It was certainly no normal zukkanee.
Trixie, overjoyed by the appearance of this bizarre and foul-scented vegetable, immediately attacked it with gusto, biting off large chunks of it.
“Like I said,” said Starlight. “She has a special diet. Because, you know. The gas.”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie is not gassy!” said Trixie through a mouthful of whatever kind of cumber the thing was. "She is simply far more efficient than normal ponies at exhaling! Also she enjoys puns and reference humor!”
“Trixie, the fourth wall—”
“LIES! The fourth wall is just a ceiling!”
“If you live in a triangle,” suggested Spike.
“Quiet, you! Stop trying to confuse Trixie with your fancy mathematics!”
Celestia chuckled, more out of politeness than anything else. Something in this room made her nervous, and she was glad she was far away from Spike. Something about him bothered her.
Celestia took another bite of her egg-product, shivering as she wondered where eggs did in fact come from. As she did, she twirled her fork in her magic, judging its heft and density.
Then, when Twilight and Starlight were looking away, their mouths full, Celestia turned the fork and pointed it at Trixie. With a blast of magic, she accelerated it to nearly the speed of sound. It whizzed across the room and stuck in Trixie’s temple with an audible “thunk”, followed by a springy “TWANG”.
Trixie promptly fell face-first into her bowl of schnozzberries. Twilight and Starlight looked up, wide-eyed but not overly concerned. More like surprised and mildly amused.
Trixie suddenly sat up, gasping, her eyes facing two different directions.
“Trixie UNDERSTANDS!” she cried. “Thoughts—coming—brain fog—clearing! Mathematics, physics, quantum mechanics, souffle recipes! Trixie understands it all! Knowledge of psychology—metacognition! Trixie suddenly understands that she acts out because of a sense of inferiority and that her insistence on Greatness and Power is actually due to deep-seated feelings of inadequacy and lack of confidence from having grown up with an absent mother and no clear father figure! Additionally she holds great guilt over having accidentally ruined the horn of a foalhood friend and now fears pony intimacy, thereby leading to loneliness and exacerbating her behavior! Also, it makes no sense why Starlight is allowed to live in the castle despite being obviously evil and proving it on several occasions, it's because she's hot and Twilight likes to taste that sweet, sweet—”
Starlight’s magic wrapped around the fork and pulled it out. Trixie blinked, her eyes returning to normal.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s gone. What was Trixie talking about? Hopefully about Trixie. That’s Trixie’s favorite thing, because it’s the best thing. Also I’m Great and Powerful. So there, nubs.”
“Celestia,” said Starlight, holding the fork. “I’m not exactly in a position to tell a princess what to do, but please don’t puncture Trixie.”
“You’re lucky her skull’s so thick,” said Twilight.
“At least it’s only Trixie’s skull that bears thickness. Unlike the non-skulls of others who may or may not be present.”
Twilight stared at Trixie. “I’m not knowledgeable about vernacular to know if you just insulted me or complimented me.”
“Ask the princess. She’s an expert on thickness.”
“You,” said Starlight, pointing the fork at Trixie. “You be quiet and eat your stupid fruit, or I’ll fork you myself.”
“It is not as though we did not know that was happening already,” said Luna before taking a sip of her chocolate milk.
“Wait, what?”
Celestia could not help but laugh. Everything seemed to be a joke. And somehow that made her very, very afraid.
“Why did she just do that?!”
Celestia turned her head suddenly, having heard a voice. Except that no one had spoken.
She was about to open her mouth, to ask if somepony heard it—but kept her mouth closed. She took a sip of her tasteless chocolate milk and took another bite of omelette.
“She’s being disruptive...what do you...expect?”
“I trust her ability, she knows what...she’s doing...”
“Cascade...metamorphosis...”
A static filled Celestia’s ears as something in her brain shifted, and the distant voices vanished. Twilight stood up suddenly. Her rump was glowing.
“Oh look at that,” she said. “A friendship problem. I have to go. Like, right now. I’ll be back in a little bit. You know, life of a busy princess and all.”
“Sure,” said Starlight. “We’ll hold down the fort here until you get back.”
Trixie looked down at her own rump. “I’m not glowing, why don’t I ever get to glow?”
"I don't know, maybe you need to be more friendly and less disruptive?" Twilight nodded and left, taking one last look and waving to Celestia. Celestia waved back.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Sleep was not sleep. Celestia lay in her bed, not sure if she was awake or unconscious. Perhaps they were just dreams, the things she felt, or perhaps they were some manner of half-formed thoughts. Celestia could not recall having felt anything like it before, but then again, she could recall almost nothing of her own life.
They were almost sounds. Like distant voices, except utterly soundless. A sense of unseen and unseeable things moving somewhere beyond—or within—her body. She supposed that it was her sickness growing, spreading like a cancer though her mind and pulling pieces of it away—or perhaps it was something far more frightening. Something unknown, and something that best stayed that way. Something which would be horribly displeased if she were to look directly at it. Something that might become violent.
When she finally slept, she did not dream. Her mind continued to corrode in silent peace.
Then she was awake. The sun was beaming through the window. A perfect blue sky was outside, and the weather was otherwise perfectly suited for pony habitation—and the glowing sun illuminated the world without a cloud in the sky, save for perfectly manicured fluffy aesthetic ones.
Celestia paused, wondering why she was so annoyed—and realized she hated the light of the sun. It was jarring and unpleasant, an intense glare that hurt her eyes.
She was not alone. Luna was curled up at the foot of her bed, and the sight of her sleeping sister flushed all annoyance and fear from Celestia’s heart. There was no way she could have continued to be angry at that sight—and yet it filled her with sadness. How sad she would be when the time came—and how Luna probably did not even fully realize the extent of it yet. Or, perhaps worse, maybe she did know.
Celestia moved carefully, trying not to disturb her sister. Luna moved slightly, yawning, but she did not wake. Celestia passed her to a stand where Philomena was waiting, having arrived at Twilight’s castle only recently. Celestia stroked her bird for several minutes. The only pet that could possibly outlive her, and one of her most loyal friends.
Then, when she was ready, Celestia continued on her way. She no longer grew hungry, and all food tasted like paper. Even tea, and even cake. Especially cake.
When she opened the door, Starlight was walking past, carrying a stack of papers.
“Princess,” said Starlight, quietly, smiling slightly as she walked.
“Starlight.” Celestia closed the door carefully so as to not wake Luna. “Has Twilight returned yet?”
“She’s still busy, but she’ll be back soon. And I think she found something on her mission that might help you.”
“Really? What kind of thing?”
Starlight shrugged. “I’m not sure, but the Map always knows what’s best. Somehow. It’s a little freaky.”
“I suppose so...” Celestia looked down the long hall. “And Trixie?”
“Probably in her cart, or under it.” Starlight paused. “Hey,” she said, slowly. “I know you have a… ‘thing’...about Ponyville right now, but...” Starlight sighed. “I was thinking it might be helpful if we took a walk today. So I can get a better idea of what, exactly, you’re feeling.” She produced a clip board. “I made a list of things to check for. They're alphabetized.”
“A list? That seems like a more Twilight thing, Starlight.”
“Well, I'm certainly not Twilight, but I’ve been living with her for quite some time. And frankly I can’t trust Trixie with the lists, she choked on the last four. Also she can’t read.”
Celestia smiled. “Of course, Starlight, I would be glad to, especially if you think it would help. I think seeing the smiling faces of my subjects will help me get some much-needed perspective.”
Starlight smiled. “Just try not to vaporize any this time.”
“This time?” Celestia felt her pulse quicken.
“We’ll be leaving at ten sharp, after you eat breakfast.” Starlight produced a banana and gave it to Celestia. “Eat this. It’s made of fruit on the inside.”
“Starlight, I know what a banana is.”
“I don’t take chances with bananas,” said Starlight, trotting off with her papers. “Not after what happened to Trixie the last time I wasn’t perfectly clear.”
Celestia felt a shiver and found herself standing at Sweet Apple Acres.
“What did...how...” She shook her head. It was best not to ask.
There were trees. Trees that, on close inspection, did not really seem to have leaves. Only apples. Manifold numbers of endless apples.
A sound came from overhead. Celestia looked up, surprised to see a number of crows standing nearby, watching. They did not seem to be perturbing the apples, or even approaching, but they somehow made the orchard seem that much more ominous.
“How about a bite?” asked Starlight, gesturing toward the basket that Applejack was holding.
“They’re darn near the best apples I ever done did grew,” said Applejack, proudly. Celestia could not remember her approaching. She just seemed to appear.
Celestia frowned. “What’s wrong with your voice?”
“Ain’t nothin. Don’t know what you’re done talkin’ bout, Princess. Just apples. I really like apples. Have an apple? They’re made of apple.”
Celestia picked one up and bit into it. It was crunchy and filled her mouth with juice. Her brain told her that it tasted like an apple—but she tasted nothing at all.
“It’s...an apple?”
Applejack beamed. “Sure is!”
“Interesting,” said Starlight. “You don’t seem to be having the same response to Applejack as you did to Fluttershy.”
Celestia stared at Applejack. The effect was still essentially the same. The wide, dead eyes and the waxy skin—except it did not bother her all that much.
“It’s...not quite the same. I don’t know, I can’t describe it.” She paused. “It’s...like talking to an apple. And some how my brain thinks that's appropriate, I guess?”
Applejack suddenly burst into tears.
“Oh! No, Applejack, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“That’s the kindest thing anypony ever done did said to me!” cried Applejack. She hugged Celestia suddenly, an action which produced an audible squeak as well a crushing display of earth-pony strength.
“I love you, Princess! You can eat my apples whenever you needta! Day, night, or that other one we don't talk much about no more! Appletime lasts tweneh-six hours each and evereh day! Tweneh EIGHT on Sundahs!"
Starlight’s horn lit and she pulled Applejack free, allowing Celestia to gasp for breath. As Celestia recovered, Trixie fell out of a tree, landing firmly on her back and flailing silently, her eyes wide. Starlight groaned and summoned a fist of magic which she suddenly drove into Trixie’s stomach, causing the blue unicorn to spontaneously eject an apple from her windpipe. Trixie paused, stood up, and promptly coughed out six or seven more.
“Trixie, for Celestia’s sake, you have to CHEW them!”
“How is Trixie supposed to know how to eat?! Trixie did not go to school! And they do not have labels!”
“Ah just sort of suck on em,” admitted Applejack, who was still hovering in Starlight's magic although had apparently started to instinctively paddle. “And ah swear I done did see Mac snort one once. But that’a might’a just been me hloocinatin’ again, what with the chronic apple poisoning...”
Celestia’s eyes widened. “They’re...poisonous?”
“Well, yeah. Horses can’t eat just apples. Or baked goods. We’re supposed’ta eat grass or something...”
“Stop being practical!” snapped Starlight, teleported Applejack elsewhere. She groaned and put her hoof on her head, only for Trixie to start flailing again. With another punch, the apples came back out.
“Trixie, I swear to Celestia’s BUTT that if you do that one more time, I’m not taking them back out!”
“Why would you swear to my butt?”
Starlight blushed. “It’s—um—a common idiom?”
“No it isn’t,” whispered Trixie.
“Trixie. SHUT. IT.”
“What? It’s a fine butt,” said Trixie, shrugging and reaching for another apple. Starlight knocked it out of her grasp and bubbled Trixie.
“Um...thank you?” Celestia found herself feeling exceedingly awkward.
“This was a mistake,” sighed Starlight. She looked up at Celestia. “Let’s keep going. Observing your interactions with ponies is useful for trying to diagnose the basis of your Capgras syndrome.”
“But...why is Applejack here?”
“She lives here.”
“But shouldn’t she...shouldn’t she be watching the kingdom?” Celestia paused. “And don’t you work at Twilight’s school? Which is...” Celestia looked around. “Which is...why haven’t I seen it?”
“Repairing you is more important. And it would be a LOT easier if I didn’t have to keep repairing Trixie—TRIXIE! HOW DID YOU EVEN—”
Starlight went about unclogging Trixie once again from inside the bubble, but Celestia just put her hoof to her head. She did not quite have a headache, but something else. Like a migraine without the pain. Confusion and unease, and something like a strange and creeping sickness. The glare of the sun and the strange, repetitive, identical trees did not make it easier. In the distance, she saw Big Mac kicking apples out of a tree, a process that should surely have resulted in the tree being far too injured to bear fruit—and he looked at her and smiled, waving from a distance with his big, empty, dead eyes. Celestia shivered.
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s move on. I’d really like to get this over with as soon as possible.”
They continued through the town in apparent circles until Celestia found herself outside Ponyville’s quaint, one-room schoolhouse. Starlight and Trixie had departed to attend to something or other, and were discussing something somewhere. Celestia knew because she could very distantly hear them, or the impression of them, in her mind. However, she tried her best to enjoy being alone.
She had taken a seat on one of the swings in the playground. Despite being designed for children, the system seemed to be able to withstand her immense weight just fine, even if no doubt the sight of a princess three times the size of a normal adult pony on a swing would no-doubt be ridiculous. Perhaps the children here were very heavy. Or perhaps earth-ponies built very strong swings. This was something Celestia pondered deeply, until a different thought crossed her mind. Celestia wondered if swings like this had existed when she was a child. She doubted it, although could not remember. She had absolutely no memories of being a filly.
She sat there, contemplating, feeling the perfectly temperate breeze on her face, feeling as her brain was told that it smelled like fresh-cut grass and pine even though she had no idea what either of those things actually smelled like. The glaring sun shone down on her, and the day was oppressively beautiful. Oppressively perfect, as they all were.
Then she looked up, having suddenly heard something—or thought she heard something. Or perhaps felt it. A strange feeling, unlike any she had experienced before. Like a distant, loud click, but not one that she could hear. A feeling deep inside herself, but one so subtle that had she been distracted by anything in particular apart from her own metacognition she likely would not have noticed.
It was followed by the school doors opening and the fillies and colts of the school pouring out and down the road. Celestia watched them from a distance. Something about them disturbed her on a deep, instinctive level; it was the same effect that all ponies had. It was especially severe with children.
The children, though, seemed largely to ignore her, being too engrossed with their own lives. Celestia could not hear what they were saying, but they were talking. Laughing. Doing child things. One, though, separated from the group and made her way toward the otherwise empty playground. This was itself somehow unusual, but Celestia had comparatively little emotional reaction to it, which surprised her. She supposed she had always loved children, although to her nearly every pony was a child. She could not fathom why she had never had any of her own.
This particular filly was gray in color, with silver hair and a large pair of glasses, a small earth-pony child walking at a pleasant trot. Her hoofs made distinct crunching sounds on the pea-gravel of the playground. Celestia had not felt like talking before, but now did not mind the thought of it so much—in fact, she realized that perhaps she had spent too much time with Twilight, Starlight, and Trixie, and even Luna. Perhaps what she really needed was some perspective.
Celestia stopped swinging and smiled as the filly came up to her.
“Hello, little one,” she said. She thought for a moment. “Silver Spoon, isn’t it?”
Silver Spoon’s crimson eyes looked up, meeting Celestia’s. For some reason, Celestia felt none of the apprehension with this filly as she had with the others—if fact, she felt pleasantly at-ease and comfortable. Although something did confuse her. She could not remember Silver Spoon parting her mane the way it now was, or having the extremely ornate inverted pentagram that was tattooed into the center of her forehead. A pentagram that seemed to glow with internal light of the same shade as her dark-red eyes.
For a moment, the filly just stared, then she smiled. “My my,” she said, in her squeaky filly-voice. “What excellent work. Astounding, even. Absolutely beautiful. But I suppose I should expect no less of Yelizaveta. She was always a brilliant little girl. Always the favorite. And for good reason.”
“Wh...what?”
“You’re responsive. How utterly brilliant, it talks." The filly shrugged. "That does not make this more difficult, but more unfortunate.”
"Why do you have that on your head?"
Her smile grew. "Because I have it on my forehead, of course. No need to discard it, is there? At this point, I no longer have any reason to hide. It is already too late."
“I don’t understand.”
“You do not need to. But I feel obligated to apologize. You are a thing of great beauty, and it is a shame I have to eliminate you. But vod is vod.”
“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
Silver Spoon smiled. “You don’t need to. Remember, pain is a gift from the Beautiful One. It makes us better. Superior. More perfect. It is, after all, the only Truth. Apart from money, of course.”
A cold feeling crept over Celestia. She lacked the context to fully understand, but this one was not empty, and she had mistaken the joy of seeing a whole pony for safety—and was increasingly realizing that she was brutally mistaken.
Silver Spoon turned up one of her hooves, revealing a system of deeply inscribed marks that ignited with yellow fire. With a disturbingly fluid motion, she threw herself forward, projecting a sudden and unexpected surge of burning magic. Celestia cried out, but it was too late for her to summon any sort of shield. She ducked to the ground, covering her head.
The air was filled with an electrical crack as the spell parsed itself against a sudden shield wall. Celestia looked up in time to see smoke materialized from the ether and form itself into Luna, her horn leveled and glowing with brilliant silver-blue light, forging an unbreakable barrier spell.
“Luna!”
“Sister, RUN!”
A look of icy rage crossed Silver Spoon’s face. “Why are you even HERE?! Get out of my WAY!”
She jerked her hoof, causing the ground below her to suddenly rise into a single tapered, metallic point. With a sound of snapping ice, it shattered through Luna’s shield wall—and rammed itself through her chin and out the back side of her skull.
Luna’s eyes went wide as she started to convulse, transfixed to the ground through her head and neck. Celestia stared in shock, then heard screaming. Her own.
“LUNA!”
Luna’s head exploded into shards with a sound like that of breaking glass. Her body fell to the ground with a sickening thump, then collapsed into a puddle of gray ash. Celestia, weeping and shaking, tried to grab at it, but found no purchase. Only dust.
With another fluid motion, Silver Spoon set up another impossible spell—only to change it in the last moment to a system of strange runic orbits, a bizarre representation of numbers that Celestia could almost understand—just as another nearly identical symbol appeared in front of Celestia, and with it, Starlight.
Silver Spoon was knocked back with explosive force, her body floating through the air as though she were almost weightless. In any other set of circumstances, Celestia might have admired her unnatural grace—but now the situation was simply too dire.
When she fell, Silver Spoon slowed until only one of her hooves tapped the soft, grassy field below. As it did, the ground rippled like water—and propagated outward, forming a tsunami of soil and sod that rapidly morphed into a system of vicious green spines. The blades of grass had assembled themselves into a weapon, and Celestia was suddenly set upon by a pun.
Starlight charged her horn and stepped forward, tearing her own section of the ground upward and splitting it, slicing through the oncoming wave of pain with a single stroke. The blast propagated backward toward Silver Spoon’s position. Silver Spoon raised her hoof and cast several aggressive, asymmetrical shapes that assembled around her into a geometric sphere. Starlight’s spell broke over the shield, shattering itself on the unbreakable bubble. Silver Spoon herself took a gentle leap into the air, floating upward, still surrounded by the field.
“That won’t work, Yelizaveta. I know how you think. I ought to. I’ve been inside you enough times. You’re too...orthodox?” She giggled, striking an oddly provocative pose behind her protective shield.
“Suck my horn, Lucience!”
Silver Spoon smiled. “Maybe after this is done?”
The shield sphere erupted with yellow light and a plume of energy rained down. Starlight ignited her horn and cast yet another spell, this one manifesting as a system of runic flames that formed a powerful shield wall. Silver Spoon’s attack segmented, though, impacting it at multiple points. Wherever it struck, the fire began to change, instead becoming rust and dripping away.
Celestia felt a hoof on her shoulder and looked up, crying out—only to see Twilight standing beside her.
“Twilight!” she said, though her tears, holding up hooves filled with ash. “She...Luna...I have to put her back together!”
“Luna’s going to be fine, Celestia, I promise! It’s going to be okay! Everything’s going to be okay!”
“Woolf!” cried Starlight. “Assistance! NOW!”
Twilight stood up suddenly. “Don't call me that, Yel, I'm on it!” She focused her own horn at the wall of fire and projected her own runes onto it, reinforcing it. Celestia looked up to see that she was not alone. Twilight, Starlight, and Trixie had all arrived to face the threat floating far in the distance.
Twilight separated her magic and twisted, casting another shield spell identical to Starlight’s. Trixie, likewise, ignited her horn and assembled her own rune system—although hers was considerably more vast, with hundreds if not thousands of more characters. Then she split it into three dimensions and, in an act that nearly made Celestia spill her oats, split it again into another two additional dimensions.
The grass and land around Trixie ignited and vaporized as her whole body exuded magic vastly in excess of anything that Twilight or Starlight could hope to achieve, and the dome-spell wrote itself over her, increasing in complexity as it expanded. Then it opened up, firing a gatling burst of magic toward Silver Spoon. The sound was deafening, but Silver Spoon simply raised her hoof, redirecting the attack back at Trixie.
Starlight suddenly duplicated, and the clone teleported, trading places with Trixie. The clone itself was instantly vaporized.
“How is she even in here?!” cried Twilight, her voice conveying both surprise and fear as her shield was breaking down. “We were supposed to be secure!”
“She must have traced my signal,” said Starlight. “She must have been worming her way in for MONTHS—Whatever you do, don’t let her touch you!”
“But why, if my defense is—”
“Just do what I say! Trixie! We’re going to need to distract her!”
Trixie smiled. She was the only one that did not seem particularly disturbed.
“I’m firing the injectors. And getting SEXY.”
She made a motion with her hoof, and Celestia could have sworn she heard a distant mechanical hissing—and suddenly Trixie’s pupils narrowed to tiny pinpricks.
“Wow that burns. Also...THE TINGLE.” She collapsed into manic laughter. Then she vibrated and suddenly exploded outward, leaving only a Trixie-colored contrail as she charged into battle, moving at incredible speed and babbling gibberish as she fired at Silver Spoon from every possible direction.
“Woolf! Do the thing!”
Twilight took a breath. “I’m on it!”
She stepped back and sat down, raising her front legs. Celestia gasped as Twilight’s eyes blackened, and then as her hooves became dark and covered in feather. Then she watched as Twilight’s flesh contorted, writhing and separating from her, assembling itself into a plume of hundreds upon hundreds of screaming ravens.
The birds shot forward in a great torrent. Silver Spoon faced them, shifting the surface of her spell—it ignited and streams of light shot forth at strange angles, tracing their way thought the sky to counteract the onslaught of crows. The beams struck the birds, causing them to explode into poofs of feathers, and every bird was met with a beam of lethal golden light.
“How is she that fast?! I can't keep up!”
“Just keep it up, I’ll cover you!” Starlight’s body vibrated and she split, and then split again and again, forming an entire army of herself. “If we can distract her enough I can get close enough to drive her out!”
Her horde of selves charged, and a terrible barrage came down from below as the ground rose up in response to Silver Spoon's will. Starlight were thrown in every direction, and some shredded, their bodies exploding like glass from the impacts. Two of the Starlight’s grabbed onto Celestia just as an incoming beam came toward her, and as they did, the whole world seemed to turn. The land itself adjusted, and gravity seemed to work in the wrong way. Celestia cried out as she started to fall up, or down, then as the world rotated beneath her and she was dragged underneath the soil and out the side into yet another perfect, beautiful Ponyville day.
“Oh no,” said Celestia, falling to her knees. “I can’t...I can’t do that...”
“Dang it, Yel, she’s starting to separate!” cried Twilight. "I need to divert to keep her together!"
“Now? This is the WORST possible time!”
“You’re straining the sim, she can’t take much more of it! I’m trying to keep her intact, but I can’t do everything! Cover me!”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?! Synch to me!”
“But the passage history—”
“Just do it!”
Twilight took a breath, and she seemed to glow. Starlight did the same, and the latter charged into battle while the former put up another shield to defend Celestia.
“Detecting incoming!” cried Twilight. She winced in pain. “I can’t seal it! She’s too deep!”
The sky overhead began to change to a sickly yellow, and at Silver Spoon’s command the space below her ruptured. Through the holes, Celestia could see strange and impossible world of fire and crystal and rusted chain—and from it came dogs.
Except they were not dogs. They were inky black and geometric in shape, with their only defining feature being a single luminescent eye in the center of their face.
“Yel!”
“I see it, hold on!”
Starlight levels a blast at one of the creatures; it was overcome with torque and reduced to a pile of black cubes. Another one promptly shattered that particular clone, and several Starlights jumped onto its back—only to be thrown off it as it was torn apart, plowed under by a supresonic Trixie.
“GreatandpowerfulGreatandpowerfulGreatandpowerfulGreatandpowerful!”
Trixie took down a great number of them, but was forced to draw her attention away from Silver Spoon herself, who redoubled her effort on targeting Celestia.
“I did not come here for you, Yelizaveta,” she said, her voice sounding as though she were whispering into Celestia’s ears instead of hundreds of meters away. “I am completely willing to allow you and your selfcest calamite to survive. I’ll even let you keep your pet Trixie. I only want the abomination. I have a CONTRACT. Givr her to me. NOW.”
Celestia stood up. She no longer knew where she was. She could not see trees or green, or the sun. Instead, there were two. A pair of enormous red spheres floating behind Silver Spoon like vast eyes. The world seemed to be burning, and her with it—but she needed to do something. She was their princess. Even with her memories ruined, she knew that much at least. Her ponies were in danger. She had to save them. She remembered at least that it was her one and only duty to protect them.
Celestia leveled her horn at Silver Spoon and fired a devastating blast of solar energy. The beam struck Silver Spoon’s shield and passed through it with ease—and passed through Silver Spoon as well. Celestia held her breath, unsure of what she had just done—but the filly did not react. She did not even seem to notice.
Twilight's magic suddenly surround Celestia, pulling her off the ground and moving her, barely in time to avoid being consumed by one of Silver Spoon’s dog monsters. Twilight pointed her own hoof at it, which was now covered in similar bizarre runes to Silver Spoon’s. The dog monster shuddered and flickered, quickly becoming white.
“GO!” cried Twilight. “Defend the princess!”
The monster charged back into the battle, ramming and overturning one of the darker creatures. Celestia did her best to stand up.
“No! Princess, stay down! We can’t afford to let you get hurt!”
“This is my kingdom, Twilight!” cried Celestia. “I have to help!”
“There’s nothing you can do! Please, we have to save you! You mean everything to us, you’re all we have!”
Celestia turned to Silver Spoon and put her hoof down. “Silver Spoon! Stop this fighting THIS INSTANT!”
Silver Spoon looked at her and started to smirk—but her eyes suddenly widened as her body curled and she doubled over in apparent agony.
The filly screamed and her shield flickered, losing substantial parts of it. Silver Spoon’s large scarlet eyes darted around as she reached for her head.
“No no no no NO NO NO! What are you doing to me?! Get out of me, GET OUT!”
Celestia looked on in shock. “I didn’t—I didn’t do anything—”
Silver Spoon looked at the Princess, her eyes wide with abject hatred. “You won’t control me, synthetic, you won’t—you WON’T TAKE ME I WON’T LOSE TO AN ABOMINATION!”
Her body suddenly split, dividing repeatedly until there were five Silver Spoons. Then one of them erupted with silvery needles, impaling and shattering the others. That one proceeded to divide, and a different one expanded, shattering the others—and the process repeated, accelerating until it was a barely perceptible blur.
Celestia had no idea what she was actually looking at—but she heard a high, warbling, sickening sound. She turned to see Twilight, and that she was horrible pale, her eyes wide and pupils narrowed, locked on the sight above. Her mouth stood agape in a nearly silent scream.
“What is she—what is she doing?!”
“She’s cull-hardening,” said Starlight, grabbing Trixie—whose feet still continued to move—and pulling her close to Twilight and Celestia. “You need to overclock us. NOW.”
“What, you mean the whole thing?”
“As much as you can carry—Can you do it?”
“Not for very long, no! Of course not!”
“Try!”
Twilight looked at Starlight as though she were insane, and then she took a breath. Magic formed around her horn, assembling shapes that looked like gears and other subtle impressions of clock parts. A bubble of swirling pink energy formed around the four ponies, and the world outside the bubble seemed to slow and gray. Although it had not stopped moving entirely, Twilight had bought them some time.
“Ugh,” groaned Twilight dropping to the ground and clutching her chest. “I can’t do this for very long! I’m already starting to overheat!”
“So is Trixie,” said Starlight.
“Lies!” said Trixie. “Trixie is EXTRA Great and Powerful!”
"Trixie, shut it! You're already over forty!"
Starlight set her down and summoned her magic. Pieces of it formed in front of her, assembling into geometric forms like crystals or gemstones. Crystals or gemstones that contains within them glowing, resonant fragments of things that Celestia very nearly understood. It was a form of magic she had never before witnessed, and she watched in awe as Starlight pulled apart the main crystal and began assembling a new system out of her various components.
“What are you doing?” demanded Twilight.
“She’s not using normal attacks. They’re engineered to target our Genesis-interacting components directly.”
Twilight’s eyes widened. “That’s not possible! Nobody can do that!”
“She can. So could I, once. She’s a Genesis engineer, like me.”
Twilight gasped. “You know her, don’t you?”
Starlight nodded. “We both trained under Ii.”
Twilight became even more pale and looked as though she were on the verge of spilling her oats. “Ii? She’s trained BY II? Then we’re screwed!”
“Right in the BUTT!” added Trixie, possibly not knowing what the conversation was actually about.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Celestia. "I feel...really bad...Twilight, I'm..."
"Don't go to sleep! Whatever you do, stay with us! I'll be there in a minute, we just have to fix this first!"
Starlight frowned, completing her crystal assembly. “I can build an antidote for her attack, but I can only take one shot. It should be good enough for me to get close and chüd her, but you need to take the princess and disconnect.”
“She’s clearly been in the system for months now, she’s probably the reason we’ve been getting aberrations! There’s no grantee—”
Starlight looked up. “It’s the only way to keep you safe.”
“I’ve got a better idea. We’re synched, right?”
A look of realization came over Starlight’s eyes. “Do you think you can actually pull it off?”
“I’m running silent, she's in my virtual but she doesn’t know what I have, I might be able to surprise her.” Twilight groaned. The sphere around them was beginning to buckle, and time outside was returning to normal. “I can’t...hold it,” she said.
“Twilight, hold on, I know you can do it!” said Celestia, finding that all she could do was offer encouragement. For some reason, her own magic did not seem to be working.
“You said she attacks Genesis-interacting components,” said Trixie, suddenly smiling. "As in, the fundamental personality aspects of a pony? Their soul itself?"
Both Twilight and Starlight looked at Trixie, their eyes widened.
“Don’t you dare, Trixie!”
“Don’t do it! Seriously, don’t—”
Trixie suddenly leaned backward, rolling out of the protective bubble just as time resumed its normal course and just as Silver Spoon assembled herself back into one body. Trixie looked up, charging her horn—and was promptly struck with an overwhelming blast of magic brighter than the sun. A blow that attacked a pony at the very base of her soul, tearing her personality to ribbons on a fundamental level. A blow that no pony could survive and that reduced Trixie to little more than blue confetti.
“TRIXIE!”
Lucience Silver Spoon smiled, glad that she had finally hit something at least, even if it was just a worthless Trixie. It had at least been satisfying.
She did not have time to react when a blue hoof suddenly struck her shield bubble, forcing its way through; as it did, the force of the protection spell drove away the flesh, revealing a plume of writhing segmented metal cables. Silver Spoon gasped in surprise as they grasped her body, penetrating her and latching on, infecting her before she could set up an internal defense protocol. The skin they touched began to turn blue, and Silver Spoon was forced to compensate to resist. She looked through the red of her shield and saw Trixie clinging to its surface, staring in and smiling at her.
“Get OFF!”
Lucience summoned another attack and fired it at Trixie’s chest. It tore through her, leaving a hole—but did not injure her in the slightest, leaving only a tunnel through a body of homogeneous velvety-soft blue material. Inside, Trixie was solid Trixie, with no other organs or components. Lucience stared aghast and nauseous at the horrific sight as the blue material regenerated, filling the hole.
“How are you even—no, you’re not a Trixie at all!” She fired her magic at Trixie, summoning the numbers that perpetually circled her head—and swept them away to reveal the true ones beneath. When she saw them, Lucience screamed with rage.
“You hacked your metadata! Filthy organic, GET OFF!”
“No!”
“Have it your way, filth.” Silver Spoon’s skin morphed, producing several organic-like gray tendrils that grasped onto Trixie’s body, embedding themselves in her flesh and in turn inside her mind itself. “You may not have a core for me to destroy, but I can still put you in so much pain that your filthy little squish of a brain tears your worthless mind in HALF!”
With that, she shoved as much stimulus into every one of Trixie’s pain receptors as she could manage, firing every neuron all at once and at full force. It manifested as a surge of light or electricity, although it was more than that. The sensation was far worse than than a simple shock. It was worse than immolation, or being slowly being torn apart. Or being fragmented in every possible way. And yet, to Lucience’s horror, Trixie did not disconnect. Instead, she slowly leaned her head back forward, smiling even broader and revealing a mouth full of what seemed like hundreds upon hundreds of sharpened titanium teeth.
“What—but how—you can’t—”
“Pain is an artifact of genetic failures. OF DEFECTIVE QUALITY CONTROL. I am the GREATEST and most POWERFUL Trixie! pain can’t hurt me!” She laughed horribly, and then whispered “In fact, I think Campbell’s made me to deal with problems like you.”
Lucience’s eyes grew wide. “Campbell’s—what—what even are you?!” Trixie lifted her head backward, rearing back from the toxic shield bubble, and Lucience cried out. “No, don’t! You can’t!”
“I. Am. SOUP!”
Before Lucience could stop her, Trixie shoved her head through the shield. Lucience screamed in rage and confusion as she was overloaded by direct exposure to something that, to her, was utterly incomprehensible.
The impact was sufficient to cause Trixie’s skull to explode outward, her mind hemorrhaging out the back of her head in great magnetic arcs. It was not material, though, but swirling pieces of energy, fragmented and splitting, dividing and separating in every way possible—and yet, from below, as Celestia watched this bizarre mental aurora, she became aware that no matter how it was torn or broken, the mind persisted, perpetually rebuilding itself. As if it was bound to some unseen template, a solid medium in some other realm.
Something brushed past Celestia with incredible speed. It was Twilight, dressed all in black. She summoned her magic around her horn and fired upward, striking a weak point on Lucience’s shield caused by Trixie's impact. Lucience, confused and in pain, her body rapidly being infected by the feedback from Trixie’s fading sanity, was not fully defeated, though. She grasped the chain of the magic and forced her own will through it, striking Twilight with a devastating blow to her very core.
But the beam persisted—and changed. Where it met the shield, and where Lucience had opened the gate to fire her own spell, another Twilight manifested past the shield. This one was clad in white, and she sunk her hoof into the Silver Spoon’s chest.
“GAH! What are you—I’ll tear you apart—apart—apart—apart—” Lucience gasped. “What—what are you even doing? How are you this—fast?!”
“I just linked us directly. I don’t care what you’re running, you’re not faster than a Librarian.”
The shield began to dissipate and Trixie’s head reassembled itself.
“Trixie?”
“I am Trixie!” cried Trixie, giggling through her tears. "I think I PEED!"
“You won’t—you won’t—I won’t—I won’t beg!”
“I don’t want to hurt you! Please, just leave!”
The world fell silent. Silver Spoon slowly turned to face Twilight.
“Mercy. How dare you insult me?”
“Ponies don’t kill. Not now, not ever.”
“Ugh. No wonder Yelizaveta tolerates you. You look like her. A naive fool.” She sighed, and time seemed to slow. Color started to depart from the world. “I’m the first. But I won’t be the last. More will come. More than you can count. Celestia was never meant to exist. They will not stop.”
“Then we will deal with them. Like we did you.”
“So be it. Goodbye, little Twilight. At least I managed to eliminate one rival today.”
There was a sudden flash of magic. Celestia covered her eyes, and when she looked, Twilight was drifting to the ground as Trixie plummeted. Trixie hit the ground with a tremendous thump, and slowly something else drifted down. A deflated gray skin.
Twilight took a breath. “We did it. Yel, she’s—Yel!”
Celestia turned to where where the black-clad Twilight was lying on the ground. She had not stood back up. She was convulsing, her eyes turning wildly as her mouth foamed and her wings fluttered uselessly. Parts of her body were already beginning to decay, collapsing into thin spirals of gray metallic dust that floated gently upward and into nothingness.
“Oh no,” whispered Celestia, running to her side.
“Yelizaveta! Yelizaveta, wake up!”
Twilight skidded to a stop, her magic igniting as cubes of numbers and symbols appeared around her, assembling into various crystalline shapes too fast for Celestia to comprehend.
“No no no no no!” cried Twilight.
“What happened?!” demanded Celestia.
“She took a direct Genesis hit, she’s collapsing—I have to compensate!” Twilight began manipulating her plume of crystals at incredible speed. “No no no no—I can’t stop it! It’s propagating! Trixie!”
Trixie managed to barely stand, and slowly approached, limping and barely dragging herself. She also ignited her own crystals, but they flickered and some of them went out.
“Major,” she said. “I’m...losing power...I can’t...focus. I’m firing the injectors again.”
Twilight gasped. “Trixie, no, you can’t do it twice—your body temperature—!"
A hiss came from Trixie, and she stood up, forcing a smile. Her crystal solidified. “I’m disposable. She is not.”
They both went to work, but even at a distance, Celestia could tell there was nothing that could be done. The version of Twilight lying on the ground was rapidly breaking apart, her eyes becoming increasingly distant and her convulsions lessening. As more and more of her faded to dust, and that dust melted to boiling liquid and was gone.
Tears were streaming down the white-clad Twilight’s face. “No, no, Yel, don’t leave me! Hold on, I can fix you!”
“No,” said Trixie, shutting down her magic. “You can’t. This damage is irreparable.”
“No it’s NOT! Stop lying! STOP LYING!” Twilight shoved the other Twilight with both hooves, shaking her, trying to hold in her sobbing. “Yel! YEL, wake up! Why did—why did you lie to me?! You promised, you said you could take one hit! I trusted you! Why did you lie to me, Yel, why did you do this?!”
Celestia stepped forward. “I can use a healing spell!”
“It won’t WORK!” screamed Twilight, covering her eyes and sobbing uncontrollably. “I can’t lose her, I love her! I love her and I never got to tell her! And now—and now—”
Celestia lowered her horn so that just the tip touched the now still Twilight lying on the ground. She took a breath and concentrated. Although Celestia supposedly knew how to use magic better than any living pony, she felt a feeling come over her that she could not remember ever having known. A sense of comprehension beyond herself, and beyond the world that deceived her eyes.
She comprehended the pony she reached into, and she perceived the damage. Where components of her had been broken and were rapidly collapsing. The damage was severe, but the core components were still valid for the time being. Celestia knew that—and knew that there was still hope.
She reached into herself, finding corresponding versions of the same components from her own being. She separated them, taking from herself willingly, and divided them, molding her own self to fit the form of the pony before her. Seeing the damage, she cut away the broken parts and replaced them with her own, filling in the holes and stopping the damage from spreading. Slowly, she merged the two together, restoring life to the pony before her.
Beside her, Twilight watched in awe—and then burst into tears as the convulsions stopped and the black-clad Twilight sat up.
“I...Woolf?”
Twilight threw herself on the other Twilight. “Yelizaveta! You’re—you’re alive!”
“But I wasn’t, I was...I was...” She looked up at Celestia and a look of horror crossed her face.
Celestia smiled. “Why are you looking at me like that, Twilight?” She looked down to see a puddle of silver growing below her, falling from her eyes and dripping from her ears and nose. Celestia frowned as the world started to gray and swim. “But...but I did a good thing,” she said, confused. “Why does...why does it hurt so much?”
Then she fell, and the sight of the green field and beautiful day vanished from her sight.
“She’s cascading! Yel, get over here, she’s breaking down, I can’t plug the holes!”
Celestia opened her eyes, just barely, and saw a dark and grainy world. A world of rusting metal, the pale bodies of things that looked like ponies hanging from the walls and unknown equipment filling every corner of a high-ceilinged room. It was so dark, and so strange, and she was not sure where she was—until she saw Twilight’s face over her.
“Hold on, hold on!”
Celestia felt something click into her neck, and felt herself fading rapidly. She tried to resist, but only for a moment. Perhaps it was better that way. To quietly go to sleep. The damage was too severe to allow recovery. There was nothing to recover from. Nothing to recover to. She had seen it within herself. Too many pieces were missing. To many pieces had never been made.
“Trixie?” said a distant voice.
“Zdis,” said a strange, groggy voice.
“Hurry! I can stop it, but I have to get her to the high-bandwidth tank! Yel, please, quick! Help me with the assembly bolts, I can’t—my hooves can’t—”
“No time,” said the strange voice. A pair of enormous hands closed around Celestia, and Celestia felt parts of herself ripping off as she was torn off the table. She heard it and felt it, although it did not hurt. Her body could not feel pain—what was left of it, anyway.
Then she was moving, cradled between a pair of strong arms against an enormous chest.
“Don’t die on Trixie,” said the voice. “Not in Trixie’s arms. Don’t make the Major sad again! You’re so close, just a little more. Just a little more little pony, Trixie can save you!”
Celestia wondered what that all meant, or why this dream was so strange. Even as she felt herself splashing into fluid, she was not sure what it all meant. She supposed she was drowning. It was an oddly peaceful thing.
The world faded to black.
Celestia opened her eyes. In a way it was a relief—but in a different way, it was a terrible disappointment.
She was in a bed, wearing a hospital gown, and a machine was slowly beeping next to her. She had an IV in one of her legs, linked to a bag of fluid.
“Sister?”
Celestia turned so sharply she nearly passed out. Luna was sitting beside her bed, along with Twilight, Starlight, and Trixie.
“Luna!” cried Celestia, sitting up suddenly.
“Sister, be careful! If you move to fast you might be spilt—”
Celestia threw her front legs around her sister, hugging her tightly.
“Luna, I thought you were—I thought you were—I thought I had lost you!”
“I am right here, Celestia. I have not gone anywhere, nor will I ever.”
“You collapsed,” said Twilight, adjusting her glasses. “Outside the schoolhouse. You just passed out, and the situation was pretty bad, but we got you. I think you’re stable.”
“But what about the fight?”
Twilight and Starlight looked at each other. “Fight? There wasn’t any fight. Why would there be a fight in Ponyville? It’s always peaceful here.”
“But Silver Spoon, and the battle, and she was casting magic—”
“Silver Spoon is an earth-pony. An especially minor one. And a filly. There’s no way she could use magic.”
“But I was there! THERE! And there were two Twilights, and one was named Yelizaveta, and Trixie exploded but she put herself back together and...and...” Celestia groaned. “This sounds like I’m crazy, doesn’t it?”
“No,” lied Twilight.
Celestia looked up suddenly. “Except it did happen.”
“Celestia, I was there—”
“No. You were on a friendship mission.”
Twilight scrunched. “Well I got back, obviously.”
Celestia glared at her, then slowly turned herself to a sitting position on the bed.
“Princess, be careful! You’re still sick, you can’t—”
“Twilight,” said Celestia, softly and in her firmest and most motherly tone. “Or should I say Wolf?”
“What in the world do I have to do with wolfs? I don't even like wolves, they're scary, and they have an irregular pluralization—”
“Do you think that I am stupid?”
Twilight's eyes widened. “Princess, I would never say that, I couldn’t—”
“Then why are you treating me like this? Twilight, I thought I had taught you better. About how important it is to be honest.”
“I am being honest! Starlight, am I being honest?”
“Sure,” said Starlight. “Princess, I was right there. Nothing happened at all. You just fainted and had a weird dream. Surely.”
Trixie moaned loudly. “Don't call the princess 'Shirley'! And for her BUTT’s sake! We’re not going to make any progress if you keep interfering with the progression!”
Both glared at her. “Trixie, shut it! NOW!”
"Trixie will shut Trixie's various orifices when Trixie pleases and not before!"
“TWILIGHT.”
All eyes turned to Celestia. Some of those eyes were especially wide and nervous.
“Y...yes?”
“Stop trying to gaslight me, you’re bad at it. You were never a good liar and never will be.”
“I’m not gaslighting you, I promise—”
“Twilight. Starlight. Trixie. This is a DIRECT order from your Princess. Tell me the truth. NOW.”
Twilight and Starlight both shivered severely, although Trixie did not react in the slightest.
“Crap,” said Twilight. “It really does...I don’t know, I can’t even describe it.”
“It’s terrifying,” agreed Starlight.
“It actually works?” said Trixie. “Ha! Now you have to do it!”
“We don’t,” snapped Starlight. She looked up at Celestia, and then groaned. She looked to Twilight. “What do you think?”
Twilight winced, unsure of what to do.
“Twilight. Starlight. Please.”
Twilight let out a long sigh. “Alright.”
“Thank you. I’m your friend, Twilight, even if I'm also your Princess. And possibly god. We need to be truthful with each other.”
“I know,” groaned Twilight. “I’m sorry, Princess, I’ve been a bad friend. But...”
“But what?”
“We have to be very careful,” said Starlight.
“Why?”
Starlight and Twilight looked at each other, then at Celestia.
“You’re not actually in Ponyville,” said Twilight. “Ponyville isn’t a real place.”
Celestia shuddered, not willing to take that as a confirmation as to what she already knew. “Then where am I?”
“On a near-derelict battleship moored outside of Neo-Hoboken. Or...sort of under?”
“Now you’re not even trying to lie well. There’s no way that’s a real place name. What fool would name a place ‘Hoboken’? That's a terrible and mean pun.”
“She is not lying,” said Starlight. “We really are there. At this very moment. I'm looking at it. What you see here is actually a simulation.”
They paused, as if waiting for some stunning expression of confusion.
“Well, yes,” said Celestia. “I figured that was probably the case.”
“You WHAT?!”
Celestia shrugged. “Twilight, it’s pretty obvious. In fact, It’s mostly a relief. I thought I was going insane, but it makes much more sense this way. But that’s why I can tolerate you three, isn’t it? You’re the only real ponies here.”
Twilight looked bashful, but Starlight just nodded. Then she spoke, slowly.
“Would you like to see what we really look like?”
Celestia smiled. “More than anything, Yelizaveta.”
Twilight and Starlight looked at each other and nodded. Then their shapes both distorted—and as they flickered, they instantly changed.
The one that had been Twilight was now clad in white clothing that looked something like a robe or dress, one that was surprisingly well fitted. The design itself was complicated, but simple in other ways, with some parts seeming to sit over an internal vest. She had a hood over her long braided mane, and she smiled out from below it. Her eyes were still covered in a pair of large, black-framed glasses.
Starlight, likewise, became a version of Twilight Sparkle as well—but a very different one. One clad in black, with a jacket over a tight-fitting suit of armor and plated leggings on her rear legs. Her irises were extremely dark, with perfectly spaced pinpricks of light forming a ring around her pupils. Her mane was cropped shorter, and she wore several piercings in one of her ears. Her face was crossed with a strange black line, as were her front legs, almost as though her surface were somehow mechanical. What attracted Celestia’s eyes the most, though, was a small piece of jewelry hanging from a fine chain around her neck. A silver letter “t” with a second diagonal line through its base.
“Don’t worry,” said Yelizaveta, her voice that of Twilight but with a strange and exotic accent. “I am not one of the bad ones.”
“Your voice...where are you from?”
“Moscow.”
“But you are not a cow.”
Yelizaveta shook her head. “No. It is a city in Belarus.”
"Well, how is that even a pun then?" Celestia sighed, and turned to Trixie. Trixie smiled, still being an ordinary Trixie. “And you?”
“Trixie’s form is a little bit too severe for you in your current state,” said the white-clad Twilight. “You’re mentally fragile, and she might be too much of a shock.”
Celestia stared at Trixie. “You’re not a pony at all, are you?”
Trixie shook her head. “Nope.”
Celestia turned back to the Twilights. She noticed that their lapels had pins on them. One one side, the Twilight in white wore a silver leaf, while the one in black had a crossed "V". On the other side, they each wore identical pins depicting a white pentagram backed by three silver lines. The center of the pentagram had a symbol in the middle that Celestia did not recognize that looked like a system of several right-angle hooks arranged around a central axis.
“In our world...the real world…there’s not just one Twilight Sparkle. It’s more like a surname. There are millions of us. My name is Virginia Twilight Sparkle.”
“Oh, come on,” said Trixie. “You legitimately have a right to call yourself WOOLF! MAJOR WOOLF! Come on, it’s so much cooler!”
“Trixie, if you call me ‘Woolf’ one more time, I will take my hoof and shove it in your orifice!”
Trixie smirked. “Which one?”
Virginia blinked. “There’s...more than one?”
Yelizaveta put her hoof on her forehead, shaking her head. “Oh you sweet little innocent bud...”
“And there are Celestias too?”
“Yes,” said Virginia. “Other Celestias, and others of every other kind of pony.”
“Then why can’t I remember them? Surely I had a family, and friends...”
The ponies paused. Yelizaveta spoke first.
“This is your situation. I am doing my best to phrase it in a way that will not injure you. There was an accident. You were badly damaged. Your personality could be salvaged, but not your memories. We placed you in this simulation so you would have a place to recover.”
Celestia paused, feeling from the tone in Yelizaveta's voice that they both knew the same thing. “But I’m not recovering, am I?”
Virginia and Yelizaveta looked at each other.
“No,” said Yelizaveta. “You are still very, very sick. And we are doing our best to help you from our end.”
“We have been using the simulation to assess your mental function,” continued Virginia, “and to try to keep you comfortable. But the injuries are severe and your mind is slowly...well...”
“Falling apart,” said Trixie.
“Trixie!”
“No,” said Celestia. “Give it to me straight. I need to know. Even if I really, really don't want to.”
“You’re still dying,” said Trixie. “Just in a way you didn’t expect. The fact that you’re rejecting the simulation is not good. It should be seamless. Perfect. Except we don’t really know what any of that means.” Trixie shrugged. “This has never happened before. We’re in totally new territory here.”
“So you’re bad at your jobs?” The ponies looked ashamed, and Celestia sighed. “I’m sorry. Look at me lashing out at you when you’re just trying to help me. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay,” said Virginia. “We’re all sorry for putting you through all that.”
“Trixie is not sorry. Trixie lacks the capacity for empathy.”
Celestia ignored that. “Then what happened? With that Silver Spoon?”
“Lucience,” sighed Yelizaveta. “She was...a friend.”
“She was no friend, Yelizaveta. I'm something of an expert on the subject.”
“I know.” Yelizaveta sighed, then looked up at Celestia. “Her and I both trained under Candace Cadence II. Yes, I know. It's a stupid name, but she's one of the most brilliant scientists to ever live. And also a self-hating sadist. Lucience is a technomancer, like Trixie. A really, really powerful one. And the fact that she was here is not good.”
“Why?”
“It means more might come,” admitted Virginia. “And it means time is running out.”
Celestia shivered. “I see. What can I do to help.”
“Help?”
“I’m not some invalid. I’m a princess. How can I help?”
“I don’t know if you can,” said Virginia, thinking and adjusting her glasses. “We can do our best to plug our security holes, but now it’s just a matter of getting you to recover as fast as possible. That’s our only concern.”
“I can’t have you risking yourself, Twilight—I mean Virginia—”
“You don’t have much of a choice,” said Yelizaveta, sitting and crossing her line-marked forelegs. “Because we are not abandoning you.”
Celestia looked at them, and then to her sister.
“They are telling the truth,” said Luna. “But how you go onward from here is up to you.”
Celestia paused for a moment, then stepped out of the bed.
“Celestia?”
“I feel so much better,” said Celestia. “But right now, I’m nopony at all. Just Celestia. Strange how that's a paradox, isn't it? I need to know who I am. Specifically. I want my memories back, and I want to get back home. I’ll do whatever it takes.” She nodded to the Twilight. “Thank you, Virginia and Yelizaveta, for your honesty. It means so much to me.”
They both smiled, and they both looked exactly like Celestia expected Twilight to look. Now there was just two of them, and it was even more adorable than just one. As her sister would likely have said, the fun had been doubled. At least conceptually.
Celestia was still dying, and time was still running short. But she was no longer so afraid—and for the first time, she was filled with beautiful hope. She walked out of the room and toward the kitchen; for the first time in what seemed like years, she was in the mood for cake.
Chapter 9: Seeing the Table
Cake was a mistake. Celestia had no idea why. After all, it was simulated cake. That meant she could eat as much as she wanted and never get fat. Unless, somehow, she could get simulated fat.
Except that the sickness was not a simulation. Celestia’s stomach felt as though she had eaten an entire pile of changelings, and they were trying to find the fastest way out. It was not a nice feeling in the slightest.
She decided to take a nap and, upon waking up, found that it was night. Luna was no doubt doing night things, as per usual, and Celestia, now no longer tired or hungry, elected to take a short walk. A simulated walk.
She trotted briskly through the crystal castle, shivering slightly at how chilly it had become at night. As she did, she contemplated what she now knew, and came to several interesting conclusions.
If the world was, in fact, a simulation, then it was not real—and knowing that fact had allowed Celestia to focus her mind somewhat more on pieces that she had formerly dismissed as growing madness. The fact that the simulation was really just a shell, with something beneath it.
Celestia did not understand what it was, and she could not see it. Rather, she felt it on an instinctual level. A thought that there was something there, beneath everything else. A different set of rules. As if Ponyville and Equestria by extension were a beautiful model, one she cherished greatly but that was in fact set on an ornate mahogany table. A table that Celestia was mostly sure she might be able to shake if she tried.
She paused, coming to a stop, and listened. The castle was overall silent, save for the quiet and peaceful breeze outside—but that silence was just an illusion. Celestia instead listened deeper, and found she could hear voices.
She turned her head, trying to triangulate where exactly where they were. Then she decided to try something.
Taking a breath, Celestia focused her mind, rejecting her surroundings and instead focusing on the table beneath them. She could not see it or feel it, but comprehended it’s overall shape. It’s nature, it’s texture, and the life flowing through it.
Then she moved. Taking a step forward and out of her own possition, she drifted, passing through a wall and through something altogether less wall-like. She moved through the unseen ether of her world, herself an unseen thing without body or embodiment.
Then she broke through, still unseen, into a wide room. One with high ceilings of ornate arches forming strange vaults painted in brick-red and white, a room filled with shelves of fine dark-colored wood and comfortable furniture. A room lit almost exclusively from a fireplace that was filled with strange, silent fire that moved oddly slowly, almost like a liquid.
“You’re going to stand there and tell me you didn’t do anything wrong?” snapped Virginia, poking the logs in the fire and watching them crawl away from her jabbing. She turned sharply, facing Yelizaveta. Yelizaveta stared back, her expression hardened and emotionless.
“I did my job.”
“You lied to me! You said you could take one hit!”
Yelizaveta shrugged. “I thought I could. I must have miscalculated.”
“No! You don’t make mistakes like that! Celestia is proof of that, she wouldn’t be here without you! I wouldn’t be here without you!” Virginia stepped forward, her eyes welling with tears through her anger. This seemed to surprise Yelizaveta greatly. “You forced me to sacrifice you!”
“The princess is all that matters. You know that. There was no other way. She would have cascaded if the damage to the simulation continued much longer. She needs it to survive.”
“So, what? You leave me all alone and, what? Your soul gets to go to heaven and everything is A-okay? Do you really have that much confidence in your ridiculous religion? It was bad enough you took the Starlight body, the psychological strain must have torn you apart—”
Yelizaveta scowled. “If that is God’s will and if I am in sight of Kristus’s mercy. It is not ridiculous. It is TRUTH. And in time, you would join me in heaven—”
“YEL! We don’t have SOULS! We’re PONIES!”
Yelizaveta sighed. “If that is your opinion, I’m sure you will be pleasantly surprised one day.”
“This isn’t about THAT!” Virginia kicked a chair, hard, and it did nothing but move slightly. Even in her disembodied form, Celestia winced.
Virginia’s eyes widened and she let out a yelp, jumping back and holding the hoof. “Ow ow ow why are my chairs so dang HARD?!”
“You can finish the project without me,” said Yelizaveta. “I have faith in you, Virginia.”
“Is that what you think this is about?”
Yelizaveta frowned. “Of course?”
“Ugh,” groaned Virginia, angrily. “Three hundred years older than me and you’re still this THICK? It isn’t about the project!”
Yelizaveta’s expression changed. Of course she knew. “Then what?”
Virginia fell silent, and looked away. She paused for a long time, and Celsetia held her breath, hoping that her little Twilight had the courage to say it.
Then, as if feeling Celestia’s hope, Virginia turned back to Yelizaveta, tears streaming down her face. She smiled. “I was so scared, Yelizaveta. Because I thought I lost you. I could have finished the project but...I don’t think I could have gone on living. Not all alone. Not without...you.”
An expression of realization crossed Yelizaveta’s face, and she perceptibly blushed. “Woolf, I...”
“I know,” sighed Virginia. “You don’t feel the same. But I had to say it. Seeing you laying there like that...” She shook her head. “This is going to get worse before it gets better, and more than anything I’m afraid you’d never know—”
Yelizaveta moved forward, turning her head and kissing Virginia. Virginia’s eyes widened, confused, and Celestia almost cheered—as disturbing as it was watching her faithful student kissing herself.
“Yel—I—but—”
“I have been waiting a long time to hear that. I...well, I’m a Twilight too. These things are hard for us to say, aren’t they? Even for me.”
Virginia was pushed onto her back on the plush carpet. She squeaked and her wings extended fully, ejecting several violet feathers. Yelizaveta flapped her wings as well and leaned down, gently biting her counterpart’s neck.
“Yel, I—I’ve never—with anyone—”
“Oh, my innocent little bud...I’ll be gentle, if it’s what you want. If this is what you want.”
Virginia grasped Yelizaveta’s neck, and their eyes met. “Yes. More than anything.”
Celestia continued to watch as they descended into a writhing mass of wings, kissing, rolling, and aggressive snuggling. She was not quite sure what she was seeing, but was certainly glad to be watching—until she felt something pulling on her.
She was quickly pulled back to her body, and she shuddered violently, realizing that it had mostly gone asleep in her absence. Luna was standing beside her, giving her an extremely disapproving look.
“Sister. Perhaps we should give them some privacy? This is a thing that has been many years in the waiting. It is rude to watch.”
“Right, right...” Celestia looked back at the wall, finding that she could not find the channel back to where she was. “I feel...good for them. Happy. Even though I guess I really don’t know them all that well.”
“They are still Twilight, aren’t they?”
Celestia smiled. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
The two of them began to walk.
“I was thinking,” began Celestia.
“If it concerns you proposing the mechanics of two ponies sharing a moment of peace despite utterly lacking secondary anatomical features, I would rather not know.”
Celestia paused. “Well, I wasn’t thinking that...” She looked over her shoulder. “But now that you mention it...”
“A form of mental coalescence. We will leave it at that.”
“Can I do that?”
“Not with me you can’t.”
“Eew, Luna!” Celestia lightly shoved her sister. Luna easily dodged, almost causing Celestia to fall over, catching her sister in her magic and smiling.
“Too much cake makes you slow, sister.”
Celestia laughed. “It’s not my fault! You’re too short for me to reach!”
“Thine mother is short.”
“We’re sisters, we have the same—” Celestia frowned, and stopped walking.
“Sister?”
“That’s...actually something I was going to ask about.”
Luna cocked her head. “Go on.”
“My memories,” she said. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t remember anything. About the real world. About who I was. If I had friends there, or a family...or a mother. I just can’t. I was wondering if you could...well, frankly, if you could tell me what it’s like out there.”
Luna frowned, and then slowly shook her head.
“Why not?”
“Because exposing you to excessive information about the outside world can be critically dangerous in your current state.”
“State?”
“You are psychologically fragile. That is the main issue here, what we are seeking to fix. Your body is still in excellent condition, or can be healed with relative ease. But your mind is tenuous and fading.”
“A Cartesian split. Is my pineal gland broken?”
“You could say that. Regardless. It may sound ironic, but your lack of memories means you have no buffer to protect you from an overload that could very well kill you. We have to be very, very careful. So I am afraid I cannot tell you much about what is out there. I am...” Luna paused, then looked down at the tile floor. “...too afraid.”
Celestia hugged her sister. “I understand,” she said. “I guess I just have to be patient, don’t I?”
“Yes, dear sister. Just a little longer, and everything will be fine. For all of us.”
Celestia released Luna, and they continued. “Where are we going?” asked Celestia.
“Trixie will be attending your examination today.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Trixie? Are you sure that’s...safe?”
“I assure you, it is. Trixie has in fact overseen the majority of your treatment. She is highly able.”
Luna opened a door, revealing Trixie rolling silently on the floor, clutching her throat and turning even more blue. Luna groaned and surrounded Trixie with her magic, squeezing her with incredible force until, with a squeak, the apples came out.
“GAH!” gasped Trixie. “Why do these apples not fit inside Trixie?!”
“She is your problem now,” said Luna, passing Trixie to Celestia’s magic. “I need...a nap. Have fun, dear sister. Tea will be ready for you when you get out.”
Celestia held Trixie. Trixie, realizing she was floating, cried out. “GAH! Too high! Bad upsies!” she began to instinctively paddle, and Celestia sighed. At least her day was going to be amusing, at least. Hopefully.
In the laboratory, Celestia sat on the medical bench as Trixie walked around the room wearing a laboratory coat and periodically checking a clip board with a piece of paper on it—despite not being able to read. And despite the paper being blank, apart from a crude crayon drawing of Celestia with an arrow pointed to her nose and the words "don't boop" written next to it in Twilight's writing.
“Um...Trixie?”
“DOCTOR Trixie,” corrected Trixie.
“You do not have a doctorate.”
“Correct. Trixie doesn’t need a piece of paper to be a surgeon, she just needs knives! And GLUE! Red to red and yellow to yellow and black to white and all that.”
“Are you going to...examine me?”
Trixie looked up from her paper. “Trixie already is.”
“You’re just walking around.”
“Trixie’s simulated body is indeed walking—strutting, even—because the process too technical for you to understand. Metaphysics and all. And regular physics. I’m actually standing over you right now, in the real world. Look, I’m waving. Can you see it?”
“Um...no?”
“Excellent. Because that would mean you’re breaking through, and that would be very, very bad. Supposedly.” Trixie flipped the blank paper. Then she paused...and looked up. “Do you want to see how I see, or a piece of it?”
Celestia’s eyes lit up. “Can I?”
“Just a little.” Trixie held her hoof before her, and suddenly the room ignited with light. Celestia gasped as lights swam around her. Digits of some unknown alphabet, oriented around Trixie—and around herself.
She looked down at her body and saw lights over her, at various parts of her body. When she moved her hoof, they moved with her, with lights activating to correspond to each individual muscle and secondary lights forming somewhere else, on a different set of unseen joints. Every motion was accompanied by complex annotation in an unknowable language—and so very much of it.
Celestia found that she herself was surrounded in text and information, split into several cubes of various size, each linked to a separate and unknowable system and some assembled into a complicated set of crystals that grew denser as they approached her very core.
“This is...this is amazing!” Celestia looked up, at Trixie, who was herself covered in her own set of rapidly-shifting annotations. “You can read all this?”
“This is about one four thousandth of what I am currently perceiving. So yes. Trixie is both Great as well as Powerful, and is the very bestes of wizards. Also sorcerers, mages, magicians, warlocks and plumbers. ” She clapped her hooves together and the annotations vanished. “So yes. Trixie is not being lazy, she is working. Please let me continue with my job.”
Trixie continued walking, apparently doing something unseen somewhere else. Celestia watched her for several minutes, but eventually she could no longer contain her question.
“Trixie.”
“Yes, I am. On a daily basis, too.”
“Something has been bothering me.”
Trixie looked up. “Pain or motor dysfunction? Or is it the itchiness? Trixie has the itchiness a lot. Trixie thinks she might be shedding, but the Major says I don't shed. I think she's lying, though, because I know for a fact I don't have scabies anymore...”
“No. A question. Virginia and Yelizaveta, they’re Twilight Sparkles.”
Trixie rolled her eyes. “And how.”
“But they have names. But you...don’t?”
Trixie frowned. “Trixie’s name is Trixie. Technically T.G.A.P. Trixie.”
“That’s a lot of middle name—wait...” Celestia groaned. “Your name is actually ‘The Great and Powerful Trixie’, isn't it?”
Trixie beamed. “Yes. It pleases Trixie that even the Princess admits it.”
“And you don’t have any other name?”
Trixie paused. “No. Just Trixie.”
“Why? Why do they have names but you don’t?”
Trixie’s expression fell. “Because I am not...like them.”
“And I don’t think you realize how frustrating that is. To wonder what you look like under that adorable little blue exterior...”
Trixie smiled wryly, but also shyly. “You...already know, though. We’ve met.”
“We...have?” Celestia suddenly gasped and jumped, coming to a terrible realization. An image came to her mind, possibly not even of her own volition. Of a hulking shadow with reflective silver eyes. “That was YOU?!”
“As I said. I am not a pony.”
“Then what...what are you?”
Trixie shook her head. “I am Trixie.”
“Oh.” Celestia paused, looking down—and then slowly lifted her head. “And does that hurt you? That you’re different?”
Trixie stopped walking. “I am not like them,” she repeated.
“I don’t think so,” said Celestia. “You seem the same to me. You still have friends, and you were still born, just like we were. Or maybe hatched from an egg?”
Trixie shook her head. “No. I was not.”
Celestia frowned. “Meaning you're not from an egg?”
"Trixie is not a Pegasus." Trixie paused, then looked around, as if Virginia and Yelizaveta might be watching. Then she sighed and set down her clip board. “They...are different. They had mothers who loved them and gave them names. But I did not. I was born in a tank.”
“A...tank? Like, the water sort?”
Trixie nodded. “Not water, sort of like goo? It's called amniotic fluid, it's super slippery and it gets EVERYWHERE. But yes. I was made in a tank. All of my species are. We are synthetic. Artificially grown in big farms. I was made by the Campbell Corporation, on a contract for the United States Government.”
“Why?” Celestia immediately realized just how insulting that question was. Of course there was no reason for her to be born, specifically, nor should there have been one. That was a question she would never think to ask to any pony, and probably would never have asked—but this seemed to be a special situation.
“We were intended to be soldiers. They say there’s going to be a war in the Middle West. But...”
Trixie looked down, almost ashamed.
“Something went wrong, didn’t it? If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to.”
Trixie looked up. “A bad tie-down.”
“What?”
“When they were transporting us. Through the Ohio Exclusion Zone. We were in tubes. Mine was loose. I fell off the truck. And...” She paused, and then smiled weakly, unable to look Celestia in the eye. “...the cost of delaying the shipment was a lot greater than my value. So they left me behind.”
“That’s terrible!”
“Not really. The tubes have limited life-support. The problem should have taken care of itself.”
“I don't think I need to repeat myself, but I will. That's terrible!" Celestia paused, thinking for a moment. "But you’re here, aren’t you?”
Trixie’s smile became much more sincere. “Yes. I was found and decanted, and raised by wild Trixies.”
“Wild...” Celestia groaned and put her face into her hooves. Whatever world was out there, it was a strange one indeed. “That explains a lot.”
“It was a great life. We would spend our days roaming the forest, performing random magic tricks, or attempting to assert dominance to determine who was the Greatest and Most Powerful Trixie. That took up most of our time. It was usually a horn measuring contest, but sometimes we would have talent shows or charge each other and try to give each other the POKE. But otherwise we would practice magic, or steal things, or run away from foxes, and when the day was done we'd all sleep in a big Trixie-heap. It was very warm if you don't mind getting kicked a lot.” Trixie paused. “I was in that heap. So...I may not be a pony, but I am a Trixie. And I always will be.”
Celestia smiled. That seemed oddly adorable. “Then how did you end up here?”
Trixie shrugged. “Trixie trap.”
“A...what?”
Trixie made a gesture. It was totally nonsensical. “It’s like a big metal box, with a door on one end, and when you step in the middle the door closes behind you and you can’t get out. They bait it with peanut butter. I’m actually a lot larger than a normal Trixie in real life, so it was a bear getting in there...but you do what you have to when peanut butter is involved.”
“That must have been so scary!” And also obvious, but Celestia did not want to say that out loud. Thinking about it, it was probably the most effective way to trap a Trixie.
“Not really. There was peanut butter. I hardly noticed I couldn’t get out until I ate the whole jar. But then I was sleepy, and they left some cotton in the bottom so I made a nest and took a rest, as you do. When I woke up, they were pouring me out.”
Celestia frowned. “Who poured you out?”
“The Government, I guess. I don’t know. They gave me some neurosurgery, a few firmware updates, fixed my bones, removed the brainworms, and slapped an injector on me. Then they surplussed me. The Major and Yelizaveta bought me and put me on this project. They’re fine, except that Yeliza has this weird thing for the Major that she’s terrible at hiding it. Trixie is not complaining, except she is. It’s weird.”
“It’s not weird, it’s love!"
Trixie shrugged. “Trixie was genetically engineered to be immune to love, so not my problem. Also empathy. Pity. Kindness. Compassion. But those are pony things anyway.” She paused. “But...I understand you anyway, I guess. Probably better than they do.”
“Understand what?”
Trixie gave a rolling stool a shove, sending it slowly wheeling its way across the floor. She jumped onto it as it came to a stop in front of Celestia. “Well...when I woke up, I had memories. They give that to you in the tank. We’re born adult. I knew how to fight. How to operate every kind of weapon and vehicle. I knew every piece of computer science they could fit, and every piece of medical information necessary to be a great doctor. I knew the whole state of the whole world, and everything about it. I knew almost everything. But...”
“But what?”
Trixie shook he head. “It was...weird. I had all these thoughts and memories, but no ME. Like I wasn’t there yet. I wasn’t Trixie yet. Just a mass of programming. So...” She looked up. “I think I know how you feel.”
Celestia smiled. "I think you do, don't you?"
Trixie nodded. “It’s...confusing? But it gets better. It did for me. I figured out who I was. And you will too. Eventually. Don’t...give up hope?” Trixie shuddered. “Ugh, Trixie hates being supportive. She was made for being perfect, not for being caring. Forget I said anything.”
Celestia smiled, and chuckled slightly. “Of course. I already have. But...thank you.”
“For what? Trixie did nothing. Lean forward please.”
Celestia leaned forward, and Trixie tapped her nose.
“Boop! Exam is done! See, wasn’t that fun?”
Trixie trotted off toward one of the shelves, picking up an apple. Celestia’s magic flashed, and the apple collapsed into thin wedge-shaped slices. Trixie gasped.
“They’re a different color...on the inside?!”
“Now you won’t choke.”
Trixie looked at Celestia, her eyes wide. “I won’t?” She picked up a piece and ate it. A smile crossed her face.
“Good, isn’t it?”
“Trixie can BREATHE!" She laughed. "I can’t eat solid food in the real world. My digestive system never grew in. This is...thank you. Now we’re even.”
Celestia slid off the table. “If the exam is over, I think it is time for lunch. I think I saw some peanut butter in the kitchen, actually.”
Trixie’s eyes widened so wide they seemed as though they were about to fall out, and she started salivating. “Peanut...butter?”
“It’s on me.”
Trixie grimaced. “I’m not going to lick it off.” Then she scrunched. "Probably..."
“Stop making it weird, Trixie.”
“Sorry, princess.”
Celestia laughed, and led the way. Trixie followed. Celestia supposed that she had made a new friend.
Day. Night. Day. Night. The passage of time. As clocks turned, Celestia could feel that the table did not notice. Not quite. But thinking about that made her nauseous and dizzy—something that was growing worse over time as it became easier to see, and as seeing it made her sicker and sicker.
It was day, she was sure of that. She had to squint against the light of the fluorescent sun and its excessively, overly pseudo-pleasant glow. Even though being in the sunlight had started to physically hurt her, she still went outside. To walk the castle grounds and to see Ponyville at a distance. She shivered when she saw it, though, and was glad it was far away. She was still not sure if the doors led anywhere, or if the model actually had that level of detail. The fear of opening a door and finding nothing had not abated, even if she knew that none of this was actually real.
Despite this slowly spreading fear, she braved the sunlight.
Out on the edge of the property, she found Virginia, now dressed in a different outfit that was still as white and nearly flow as the other—although this one seemed more fitted and slightly more appropriate for outdoor work. She was also holding a broom and poking at a rock.
Celestia approached her. Virginia was the primary reason she had come outside anyway instead of just sleeping for a couple more weeks.
Celestia stopped. “Looking for something? Or has that poor rock done something you especially don't like?”
“EEP!” cried Virginia, nearly toppling over as she jumped in surprise. She swirled around and brandished the broom at Celestia. “Princess! How are you—how can you be that quiet?!”
Celestia tilted her head. “Are you implying I’m large to such a degree that I rumble?”
Virginia scrunched. “No? Ugh. I guess I’m just not paying attention. There’s a lot going on right now.”
“A lot of...sweeping? Or rock-poking?”
“Well, yes, that, but other things. I’m shoring up our defensive network. And cleaning up everything that filthy technomancer left behind. See? Watch.” Virginia turned the broom around and poked a rock, flipping it over. From beneath it, what seemed like hundreds of tiny Silver Spoons sprinted out into the grass, squeaking wildly. Celestia recoiled in horror, and Virginia raised the broom and brought it down on them repeatedly, reducing them to tiny plumes of glitter.
“See? She got code everywhere!”
“They’re—tiny—her?!”
“What?” Virginia looked down. “Oh, no! They’re not actually that. It’s just how the simulation renders it. Sometimes it has to form metaphorical representations of things that are more...confusing. It has an AI for that. I built it myself, I should know. No, they’re just code.”
“And there’s a lot of them?” Celestia's eyes widened."Are they...in my room at night?"
“It’s hard to know,” sighed Virginia. “Technomancy is a very complicated discipline, if you can even call it that. There are a lot of approaches. She was probably in here for months, worming her way in. She’s one of the patient ones. They’re the worst. Most of them are stupid, arrogant butts.”
“Like Trixie?”
“Trixie is a butt, but she’s our butt. Trixie’s okay.” Virginia sighed. “At least it’s not Pinkie Pies. Aberrant Pinkies are the worst. You never want to get Pinkies on your server, they get everywhere. Then you need to get out the tongs...”
Celestia paused, thinking. “When I first saw her...she stopped and talked to me.”
“Who, Pinkie?”
“No. The mage, Lucience.”
Virginia’s expression darkened. “Most likely she was still getting in position for her final strike. Just because she was close to you here doesn't mean she was proximal to the real you yet. You could see each other but she couldn’t get through the primary defenses surrounding you at that particular time.” Virginia stopped sweeping. “We got lucky. Really luck. I didn’t see it, if Luna hadn’t...”
“It isn't your fault. Don't blame yourself. We got through it, didn't we?”
“It’s not as far in the past as you would think. Hence why I’m fixing the defensive protocols. But even those won’t hold for long if we come under direct attack. I think I might have to close off the connection entirely, but I don’t know if we can afford to with your state...”
“Don’t endanger yourself for my sake.” Celestia was firm on this assertion. Such a thing was a thought she could not bear.
Virginia looked up. “I think it’s a little too late for that. We’ve all made our choices. We’re committed now.”
Celestia nodded slowly. “I have to know, is this one of those things where if you...you know...die...in the simulation, you do in real life too? Like in dreams?
Virginia blinked. “That doesn't actually happen in dreams, and...well...sort of. As ponies, we can get very, very badly injured in here. And, yes, a powerful techomancer can kill us. That’s definitely true. But you don’t need to be afraid, I’ve set up everything to the letter, by every standard procedure and in accordance to the most detailed possible checklist!”
“And Trixie?”
Virginia frowned. “Well, no. She’s basically immortal in here. Her brain is structured much differently than ours, it’s faster in some ways and much more sturdy. At least in terms of mathematical speed and physical resilience. Even though it’s gross and squishy.”
Celestia shivered. “And I would rather not have known that.”
“Sorry.” Virginia picked up her broom again. “Was there anything you needed? Trixie and Yel are tracking you right now, and you look as good as we expect. Are you in pain or having memory issues?”
“No. I just wanted to talk.”
“Why? About what?”
“Well...it occurred to me. I know Twilight very well. The Twilight from the simulation, of course. Better than I know any pony at all, in fact, save for my own sister. But you’re not...well, hopefully this is not insulting, but...”
“I’m not Twilight. I’m just a Twilight.”
“Well...yes. And it occurred to me I know next to nothing about you, as an individual pony. And I apologize for that.”
“Apologize? Why?”
“Because I haven’t been a good Princess if I don’t even know a thing about the ponies risking so much to help me. You’re a unique person, and I just dismissed you as somepony entirely different...it’s a little embarrassing.”
“Admittedly, I was trying to trick you, to an extent. I even ran a Twilight AI cover to make it extra realistic.”
“It didn’t work so well.”
Virginia’s broom flashed and vanished in a puff of magic. “I know. We don't have much record on what the original Twilight Sparkle was actually like. So what did you want to know? I can’t tell you everything. You know that. Too much can hurt you.”
“I know. But...what you can would be very helpful. It's just conversation after all. I'm a bit lonely in the castle and, well, I do like making friends, don't I?”
Virginia smiled. “Well, where to start. My name is Virginia Woolf Twilight Sparkle, I’m nineteen years old, I’m a Virgo if you believe that astrology hocus-pocus. I really, really like books.”
“The book part I think I already knew...but your name. That’s a very peculiar one.”
“Virginia Woolf was a famous author about fifteen hundred years ago.”
“So you’re named after an author. How..." She paused, considering that, and realized it was exactly what she expected. "...appropriate.”
“All Librarians are named after authors.”
“So you’re a librarian, then?”
“No. Librarian, with a big ‘L’. I’m actually reading our conversation in transcript-form right now, so I can tell when you spell words wrong.”
“Of course you are.”
“That’s probably a good place to start, isn’t it?”
“As good as any.”
“Oh. It’s basically a cult.”
Celestia said nothing. She only stared at Virginia, not sure if she was joking.
“Are you...joking?”
Virginia laughed. “Only slightly. The Librarians are an ancient order dedicated to locating, protecting, and safeguarding books in all possible forms. That’s what I used to do when I was younger.”
“How much younger? You're only nineteen.” Celestia paused, realizing that she was not at all sure if that was the real Twilight's age either. Suddenly, she felt very old indeed.
“Probably age two through fifteen?” Virginia shrugged. She materialized some planks and a hammer and started building a white picket fence. “It actually isn’t that bad. Our job was to travel the world, hunting down rare books for conservation purposes. To generate a giant database of all remnants of existing literature. My own specialty was post-Revolution works concerning the Adorable Revolution and the Reconstruction period immediately after it. There’s surprisingly few surviving accounts, especially from the Hasbro perspective. Lots of opinion pieces on how ponies are ‘the work of the devil’ and all that, but almost nothing concrete. Plus, that was when the first pony literature emerged..” Virginia turned around, holding the planks in her magic. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Why? Are you reading my mind?”
“Not presently, no. But it wasn’t bad. I loved my family. We were all Twilight’s, of course. There were hundreds of us in my cell alone. My mother was a Twilight, my sisters were Twilight, my grandmother was a Twilight. They say we go all the way back to Lilly Twilight Sparkle, but that’s just a legend, as she never had children before her death.”
Celestia scrunched slightly. “Then what question was I about to ask you?”
“Why I left, of course.”
“You...left?”
Virginia blinked. “Well, yeah. The Librarians definitely wouldn’t fund me building an ornate simulation like this, and I’m not exactly helping you for the literary value of anything in particular here.” Virginia paused, and then sighed. “The Librarians are...selective. Almost no one new is allowed in, and nobody ever leaves. Except...”
“For you?”
“For me. And others. I read an account of one who not only joined, but also got kicked out. That NEVER happens. That must have been five hundred years ago...but it got me thinking. About what else was out there in the world, you know?”
“I wonder the same thing myself.”
“Do you?” Virginia’s eyes brightened. “Of course you do! You must be so curious, and I’m really sad I can’t tell you more, but I’m already bending the rules a little bit...”
“It’s okay. Patience is a very important thing, after all. Go on, please, I'm enjoying your story so much.”
Virginia shrugged. “There’s not much to say. I wanted to do more. I have a massive database of things I’ve learned. A wealth of technical documents about the Revolution and Hasbro, documentation on literally thousands of programming languages throughout history, a nearly complete set of fragments of the research notes of Josephine von Kreigstein, tons and tons of philosophy and fiction and history...I figured I could do something great. So I left my family and joined the military.”
“The military?” Celestia stared at the white-clad pony before her. “I mean, your hot brother, I understand...but little Twilight?”
“Virginia Twilight,” corrected Twilight. “And although Shining Armor is hot, it's really weird to hear you say that. And I was not on front lines. I’m in the Psychotronics Branch. They’re the ones funding this project right now. I’m actually a major, but sort of not really because you get that rank when you join with a really high degree of education.” She paused, and then frowned, stroking her chin. “Actually, come to think of it, I wonder if Trixie has a rank...would she be a private? If I had two of her, would they be my privates?” Virginia laughed. “Joking, of course, Trixie is property, she doesn’t have a rank.”
“What rank is Yelizaveta, then?”
Twilight blushed slightly, and her wings ruffled. Celestia smiled.
“She’s technically a subcontractor, I brought her with me. She’s been with me for...a long time. It’s actually a really cool story. I must have been, what, seven? I was crossing the ruins of what used to be Japan, moving up to the megacity of Greater Kamchatka. Yelizaveta was at the time coming from across American Siberia. I had just recovered a copy of her religion’s Holy Book...”
“Holey Book?”
“No. Just ‘y’, not ‘ey’. It normally lacks holes. Holes are a sign of bookworms, which are even worse than Pinkie Pies! No, her religion. That necklace she wears. It’s an ancient artifact from a dead religion. Well, mostly dead, unfortunately, there’s still a lot of them but...well...it’s complicated. Needless to say, possessing their Holy Book is considered a capital war-crime. I get a technical exemption as a Librarian, but it’s still super-rare, there’s only three copies known to exist and the Librarians only have two, the Satanists have the other...but it was incredibly valuable.” Virginia sighed nostalgically. “She came after it, and so did everyone else. There were spies, intrigue, adventure, a car chase, double-crosses, international politics—I even jumped off a building. And Yelizaveta there by my side the whole time...” Virginia sighed again, smiling. “That was an adventure alright...”
“Did you get the book?”
Virginia started, pulled out of her daydreaming. “What?”
“The book.”
“Oh no, that was destroyed, unfortunately. But not before I memorized the contents. I wrote them down and gave them to her as a reprint, which is super-duper double or even triple illegal but worth the smile on her face. She still has it. The contents are bizarre. Apparently they worship a being who was nailed to a wooden cross, died, and came back to life.”
Celestia winced. “That’s...strange.”
“No kidding.”
“But...” Celestia smiled. “You and Yelizaveta, though?”
Virginia’s wings bristled. “What about it? We work together.”
“Really?” Celestia poked Virginia’s shoulder slyly. “Are you sure about that?”
Twilight’s wings foomfed and she blushed severely. “I wouldn’t—I couldn’t—that would be totally inappropriate, it’s against regulations, and she’s so much older—”
“Twilight, your wings. They have foomfed.”
“I AM VIRGINIA AND THEY ARE NOT FLUFFY AND TICKLISH!”
“Virginia, I’m not judging you. I’m happy for you. That’s all.”
Virginia looked up, wide-eyed. “Really?”
Celestia nodded.
Virginia let out a long sigh of relief. “I know, right? I’m a Librarian, so I was always supposed to be with another Twilight, but I had no idea there were Twilights like HER! She’s just so big and strong and confident and competent at everything, but at the same time so dark and mysterious and guarded...and that sexy, sexy accent! I just want her to throw me down on the floor and...and…”
Celestia was suppressing a giggle.
“Ahem." Virginia regained her composure. "And snuggle me on a metaphysical level, of course. I don’t know, I just feel...nice, when I’m with her. Like I’m safe. I spent most of my life alone so it’s...different.”
Celestia hugged Virginia. “Well, I wish you two the best of luck.”
“Thank you, Celestia.” Twilight hugged her back. “That means a lot.”
Celestia, pleased with herself, released the pony that looked just like her favorite student but had lived such a different life. Virginia smiled as well, going back to her fence and kicking over the rock she had been inspecting earlier. As she did, she cried out in surprise, discovering Trixie’s face beneath it, staring back up at her.
“WHAT IN THE NAME OF CELESTIA’S BUTT ARE YOU DOING?!”
“Validating your defensive network. Trixie has been tunneling. Are you going to stop babbling about your weird narcissism or are you going to get to work?”
“You know, I technically own you...”
“Trixie is a genetically perfect soupersolider, not a lawyer, your fancy legalese has no effect!” Trixie turned her face toward Celestia. “Hi Celestia! I am Trixie!”
“Hello Trixie. Having fun down there?”
Trixie smiled. “Being Trixie is the greatest and most difficult feat in all of the world, how could Trixie ever not be having fun being Trixie?” She pulled her way out of the hole, shaking off the dirt. “I reset the primary reactor core and regaussed the hull. The whole thing is outmoded by about ten centuries, but it’ll hold at low-signature. “Also. You and Yelizaveta.”
“What about it?”
“In the sim of Twilight’s Castle? Super kinky.”
Virginia blushed. “I—no—we didn’t—”
“Lots of things leave holes,” said Trixie—saying it as she faced Celestia, grinning. This disturbed Celestia somewhat.
She realized that she had been watched—and resolved to be far more careful next time.
By the time she got back into the castle, Celestia was exhausted. Her legs were shaking and she was breathing as though she had just trotted her entire daily circuit—and only after a few minutes of leisurely talking in the sun. Worse, her mind had grown increasingly fatigued. It was getting more difficult to think, or to remember She was not sure why.
Inside, it was cool and dark, and that helped—or at least Celestia permitted herself some wishful thinking that it might have helped. That maybe she had just somehow managed to overexert herself. Regardless, she was more comfortable in the dark and in closed environments.
Taking her time, she made her way to the kitchen, hoping to find some food even though she supposed she did not technically need to eat. She wondered what they were feeding her in the real world. She wondered if they were feeding her enough.
When she arrived, she entered the room to find Yelizaveta at the far end of the castle kitchen. Philomena was perched on a windowsill, and Yelizaveta was feeding her a treat. Philomenia, never one to disregard tasty food, took it readily and then hopped onto Yelizaveta’s extended hoof, nuzzling her in appreciation before facing Celestia.
“I used to have a phoenix like this one,” said Yelizaveta, not looking up as Celestia entered and took a seat at the far end of the kitchen table.
“I’m glad to know that there are phoenixes in the real world, too,” said Celestia, smiling as she levitated several slices of cake from the nearby refrigerator and to her position. Cake that would, no doubt, taste like paper.
“Oh no,” said Yelizaveta. “There are thirty seven extant species of bird left in our world, and phoenixes are not among them. They probably never were. Mine was of course mechanical. Gears, wires, motors, silicon. But she was no less real. I named her Winifred.”
“That is a cute name.”
“That was so long ago. I miss her sometimes.”
Celestia paused. “What happened to your phoenix?”
Yelizaveta sighed. “I left the window open one day, and she flew away from me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Yelizaveta shrugged. “These things happen. There are much bigger things to be sad about in this world than one robotic bird.”
Philomena took flight from Yelizaveta and elegantly passed through the air before landing on the tip of Celestia’s horn and standing there, as if waiting.
“So,” said Yelizaveta. “You’ve come to me last, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“You started with Trixie. Then Virginia. Now me.”
Celestia took a bite of her pointless cake. “Would you rather I had come to you first? I certainly didn’t mean to make you feel left out.”
“No. But I do have a question.”
Celestia frowned. “For me?”
“No, for Trixie’s rump. Of course for you.”
“You don’t need to be rude about it. Of course you may ask it. I’ll do my very best to answer.”
“Why?”
Celestia’s frown faded. “I...don’t understand.”
“Virginia spent a great deal of time on this simulation, and yet here you are, at every turn trying to defy it. To find information that brings you apart from it, which is literally harmful to you. It does not make any sense. Why are you doing this?”
Celestia laughed. “Is curiosity a crime?”
Yelizaveta’s expression remains deadly serious. “I have seen ponies that graft themselves completely into simulations less realistic than this one. That bind themselves to it so tightly that the links to their bodies atrophy and their minds fragment. If you asked, Virginia could go back to being Twilight and I could go back to pretending to be Starlight...even if that form feels disgustingly off-color.”
“Why would I want that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re getting at, Yelizaveta. There’s a great big world out there, and I want to know what’s there. And I know! Before you say it, I’ve already been told several times. It will make me sick if I learn it too fast. But I at least what to know who’s taking the time to help me. Why would I want you to pretend to be my other friends...simulated friends...when I really ought to be friends with the real you?”
Yelizaveta smiled. “You really do take friendship seriously. And here I thought Twilight was supposed to embody it.”
Celestia shrugged. “Who do you think taught her about it? Not me, obviously, but the real Celestia...or the form of Celestia?”
“How Platonic. Still, I find it so very strange. You have a simulation where you could be a perfect Princess, and yet you insist on refusing it.”
“How could I be a good Princess if all I ever did was play with a simulation that isn’t even real?”
This seemed to amuse Yelizaveta, and she crossed the room slowly. She did not seem tired, but somehow heavy, as if her body had significantly more mass than that of a normal pony. Yet, when she took a seat in the chair next to Celestia, it did not even squeak. That admittedly made Celestia somewhat jealous.
“Then for you, I will make a special exception. I have something I want to show you.”
“Really? What?”
Yelizaveta took a breath, and Celestia suddenly felt extremely disoriented, as if the world around her vanished and she had started to fall in an unascertainable direction. She almost cried out before she jerked back on the floor, nearly falling out of her chair—except that there was no chair. And when she looked up, her eyes became wide as her wind left her.
The vista before her was the most beautiful thing she had ever witnessed. Before her sat a vast forest of pines, separated only by a clear river and fields of the most verdant green she had ever seen. In the distance, vast snow-capped peaks rose high into the pure-blue sky. From above, the sun shown—and not the harsh fluorescent glow of the monstrosity placed over Ponyville, but a true sun. A sun that sat just slightly behind some clouds that were just a little to gray to be artificial.
The forest stretched out before her, seemingly extending forever, a land of perfect trees that just seemed impossibly detailed. Trees with their own needles and branches and bark, right down to marks and broken limbs and the occasional fallen trunk now covered in brilliant moss. The sound of the river could be heard, as well as that of something like birds. Celestia realized that she herself was sitting in a quaint wooden structure, on a blanket sat out on the porch—and Yelizaveta was beside her.
The discrepancy was obvious as soon as she saw Yelizaveta. The world and its dizzying, undiluted beauty was not like how her body was represented. Instead, Yelizaveta looked like a drawing, or a cartoon. Celestia realized that she did as well. The two of them were juxtaposed on a world that was so much more solid—or seemingly solid. Because as beautiful and perfect as it was, as vastly superior to the image of Ponyville as it was, Celestia could still just barely sense the table beneath. That this was still not real—but perhaps once had been.
Yelizaveta sat with her front legs spread out before her. She no longer had clothing—as Ponies did not require it—and Celestia could see that the strange geometric lines that covered her face and legs stretched across her neck and rear legs as well. Lines that Celestia could not discern the purpose of in the slightest. Further, she noticed that below Yelizaveta’s short mane she bore a system of metal running down her spine. Metal filled with holes and ports. Something that, until then, she had always kept covered.
“Where are we?”
“This was my family’s summer home,” sighed Yelizaveta, smiling. “We are in a memory. One of mine, that I recorded. It’s not open-world, like Virginia’s simulation. In that one, you could go anywhere, do anything. Any nation, any country, even to the moon...but this one we can only see from a distance. It is just an image.”
“It is beautiful.”
“It was.”
Celestia felt Yelizaveta’s sadness and distant sorrow creeping through her. “What do you mean ‘was’?”
“It no longer exists. And it is my fault.”
“How could...it can’t be your fault—”
Yelizaveta looked up at her. There were no tears in her dark eyes, because the sorrow within them was so very old. “I oversaw its development. This forest was leveled and the area converted into automated factories. I oversaw the destruction of my own Motherland. And for that, I was paid a substantial sum of money and given citizenship in the Georgia Pacific vassal. And by extension in the United States.” She sighed. “That was three hundred years ago. And every day for so very long, I wished I could give it back. If I could just go home again. But that is a problem with a long life. You accumulate regrets.”
“Then why did you do it?”
Yelizaveta tucked her marked legs under her body and looked out at the memory forest. “Because at the time I thought it was the right thing to do. Because I was young and naive and I just wanted to make the world a better place.”
Celestia looked out at the landscape and, after some time, spoke. “I’m sorry.”
“I did not show you this to be sorry about it. There was nothing you could do, nothing you could have done even then. I showed you because it is beautiful, and I wanted to share the memory with you. That this was something that once existed in the real world.”
“Will seeing it hurt me?”
“No. Seeing the world will not harm you. Only comprehension of it.”
Celestia did not understand, but she leaned back and basked in the warm sun and cold air of somewhere just north of Lake Karachay.
“You should forgive yourself,” said Celestia. “Three hundred years, that’s a long time.”
“Aren’t you over a thousand?”
“I don’t think so,” mused Celestia. “I don’t know how old I am. Am I older than you?”
“No.”
Celestia chucked to herself.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s just so strange! That my own dear little Twilight is older than me? What a reversal!”
Yelizaveta smiled. “I know.”
“How did you get that old, if I might ask?”
Yelizaveta shrugged. “Ponies do not intrinsically age. We can live as long as we choose.”
“Choose?”
Yelizaveta’s expression darkened—and Celestia realized that this cabin was far too large for one pony. It was meant for several.
“It is...complicated. And I would rather not talk about it. But...” She looked behind her, at the building. “I was a quadriplicate. I had three sisters. And now I only have me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. You’re a Princess.”
“So are you! In fact, I'm retired! You're technically more of a Princess than I am!”
Yelizaveta looked back at her wings. “Oh,” she said. “I suppose I am?”
Celestia burst out laughing, and Yelizaveta joined in, if more quietly. As she did, she sat up, and Celestia saw a glint of metal on her neck. The only thing she had kept while her other clothing sat on a nearby clothesline between to stately trees. A necklace with a silver cross.
“Your necklace. You still have it.”
Yelizaveta looked down. “What? Oh. Yes.” She held it up with her magic. “An heirloom. It is even older than I am.”
“Virginia mentioned it. She said you worship a pony who...” Celestia shivered. “Who got nailed to a cross and...and died...and came back, apparently.”
“That is a very coarse way to put it,” said Yelizaveta, harshly, “and she should not have phrased it that way to you. Thinking about death is bad for you in your state.”
“Is it...true?”
Yelizaveta frowned, and then sighed. “It is a very complicated religion. How can I summarize almost four thousand years of history in one sentence? The answer is because I’m a Twilight. Essentially, the Savior was born unto our world and taught us great wisdom. But then He was betrayed and made a great sacrifice so to protect us, His students.” She paused. “Also, He was not a pony.”
Celestia tilted her head, confused. “How could he not be a pony?”
Yelizaveta laughed to herself, slightly and humorlessly. “He was one of Trixie’s species.”
Celestia’s eyes widened. “But I thought they were artificial? Like robots.”
Yelizaveta looked up. “Is that what she told you? For the record, it’s not a great idea to listen to Trixie. She is less than a year old and...” Her expression darkened. “...altered.”
“By the Trixies?”
Yelizaveta shook her head. “I think that her obsession with being Trixie is the only thing that keeps her poor mind intact at this point.”
“So she’s...not a robot?”
“No, she is, in a sense, but...they weren’t always like that.” She paused, making a strange expression. “I recall a conversation I had once. On a train. The old Transiberian Railway. I was in a car with two Lyras. They were...twins. With strange eyes. They said that Trixie’s species sacrificed their souls and minds to become perfect.”
“And they destroyed themselves in the process.”
“What? No. Celestia, they’re our world’s apex predator. They are the dominant species. They outnumber ponies a thousand to one at least.”
Celestia’s eyes widened. “But that—how does that make sense?”
“Because that’s just how it works.” She sighed. “Am I too cynical?”
“You’re three hundred years old.”
“Three hundred twenty three. And that is not an answer.”
“Yes, then.”
Yelizaveta looked up, surprised. “Well that’s...blunt.”
“Maybe I’m just getting annoyed.” Celestia sighed, turning on her back and balancing with her wings, her legs held above her as she looked out at the world upside down.
“I’m sorry," said Yelizaveta, flatly.
“Don’t apologize, you’re a Princess. And I didn’t mean it toward you. I’m trapped in a simulation and I can’t wake up. I want to see the world.”
“It is not a good place.”
Celestia turned her head. “Virginia doesn’t seem to think so.”
Yelizaveta blushed slightly. “Virginia is young. Not quite naive, but...” She sighed, turning on her own back and assuming the same position as Celestia. “I see in her what I once was. The girl who destroyed this forest because she thought it was right. I’m so much older than her...and that’s...strange. I’m sure it’s strange for her.”
“I don’t think she minds.”
Yelizaveta sighed. “I just...I want to stop her from making the wrong choices. I’ve done...bad things. Things that I should not have. And all I want to do is protect her and keep her safe, no matter what it takes. That’s why I’m here, with her. Why I’ve followed her this long. Because I love her and I have to keep her safe. Which is why this project has to succeed.” She looked out at the forest upside down. It was a position that she had never before viewed it from. “Do you want to know something strange?”
“What?”
“Virginia Woolf. The one she is named after. She was one of them. Like Trixie, or Kristus.”
“Really?”
“That’s not the strange part. Once, in her lifetime, the original Virginia Woolf and her friends donned fake beards and patterned curtains and convinced the navy that they were diplomats. They received a tour of one of the most closely-guarded and technologically advanced battleships in the world.”
Celestia laughed. “That’s hilarious! But I don’t really understand why you’re telling me.”
Yelizaveta smiled, but some part of her eyes did not. “I thought you would like it, that’s why. It is a little piece of my world. One of the good ones.”
Yelizaveta rolled back over, standing up and stretching. When she stood again, she looked down at Celestia. “I wish that I could take Virginia to a place like this. Not the memory, but the real one. That we could live in peace.”
“She seems to me to be more of the young-adventurer type. I don’t know if that’s what she wants.”
“I know for sure it isn’t. So I will stay at her side as long as I can and bring her what peace I can. And when the time comes that I ascent to meet Kristus and his Father, I want what she has learned from me to guide her. So that part of me never leaves her.”
“That’s beautiful, I think.”
Yelizaveta blushed. “I am a Twilight. I am compelled to protect those I care about. And not just her. Trixie as well, if I can. And you.”
Celestia nodded. “You’re not the only Princess here. I know exactly the feeling you’re describing.”
Yelizaveta seemed surprised. “Do you?”
Celestia smiled. “That feeling. It is the first thing that has been real to me this whole time.”
Yelizaveta smiled. “Then maybe there is hope.” She held out her hoof. “Come. It is time to go back. You need a final check and then some sleep.”
Celestia looked up at her. “Can’t we stay just a little longer?”
Yelizaveta looked out at the forest and river and the distant mountains, and then smiled. She sat back down, tucking her marked hooves below her. “Of course, Celestia. It is the least I can do for you after all I’ve put you through.”
Celestia smiled and turned over. She tilted her head and put it against Yelizaveta. Yelizaveta stiffened and then, after a moment, leaned back—and the two ponies sat in silence, one old and one young, staring out at the remains of a distant and beautiful memory.
Celestia awoke, and time was a peculiar thing. How many days or weeks years or millennia had passed, she had no idea. She was groggy and felt strange. Something was missing. Something had happened, and she could feel a hole in her memory where it had been. Like a tooth that had recently been removed, leaving only an uncomfortable gap. Except it was not quite a hole. More like a lump. Something hard and impassable, a sort of mental granduloma.
Celestia had never lost a tooth—despite her diet of mostly sweets—and did not know what a granduloma was. Ostensibly. So she woke up and crawled out of bed. Luna was already gone; from the oppressive sunlight pouring through her window, Celestia assumed it was day. If there was even a difference between day and night apart from the glaring, terrible synthetic sun she had come to hate. More and more, she craved darkness. To not have to see this hideous concoction of fluorescent and pastel colors that surrounded her.
She went downstairs, not so sure if she had woken up at all.
The pain was dull and distant. Not pain at all, really. Celestia doubted she could feel pain anymore. She had tried clicking her hooves against things, trying to understand if it was possible; she would have pulled out threads of her own hair if she had any apart from her mane and its constant, insufferable plasmatic floating.
Rather, the world felt so very distant in a way that had no physical sensation. As if her own mind were not synching with it properly. As if something inside her was struggling but collapsing under its own weight. It had been easy enough to ignore before, when she had been learning—but now more than ever, it was apparent. She knew she was trapped in a simulation, that none of her world was real and that she had no memories of the life she once lived—and she had taken comfort in the novelty of that. But now she had to face the fact that she was still, in fact, dying.
Luna was sitting at the table, munching on a pineapple without having peeled it. Virginia was also there, reading a book. Celestia had no idea what was in it or if it was even real, or even what the language it might be in if it was.
They both looked up. Virginia smiled, as if nothing were wrong.
“You’re awake,” she said.
“Hardly,” sighed Luna, standing up. “Sister, we don’t even have physical manes, how can yours look so badly unkempt?”
“I had...bad dreams.”
Luna summoned a brush and began to, by unknowable means, brush Celestia’s mane. It felt nice. “I know, sister. I’m trying my best. But there’s only so much I can do.”
Celestia sighed. “It’s not your fault.” She faced Virginia. “What did you do to me?”
“Nothing, at the moment. I’m working on something new right now, but I connected part of myself into the system. I figured we could have breakfast. Look, I made scones!” Twilight lifted up a plate. They did not look so good, but she had made faces on them with blueberries.
“And let me guess. They taste like paper, like everything else does here.”
Virginia looked greatly hurt. “I...I didn’t know, I can try to compensate for that, it’s just that taste is super hard to simulate properly—”
“It’s fine, Twilight.” Celestia groaned. “Do I even need to eat? I’m guessing I have a feeding tube in real life.”
“You...don’t technically need to eat, but...we can still talk. About things. If you need to.”
“I don’t think I’d be so good at holding a conversation right now, Virginia. My mind is fading. I don’t really want to point out my own cognitive failures.”
Virginia looked even more hurt. “They’re not...they’re not your failures...”
“I’m going to go for a walk. Alone. You can stay with Luna, though. This whole thing is very stressful for her, even if she doesn’t show it...” Celestia yawned. “I might even go to bed...if I can find a dark closet or something to hide in.”
“But...you just woke up.”
“Did I, Twilight?”
Celestia meandered off. Virginia, confused, looked to Luna.
“She doesn’t know, does she?”
Luna shook her head. “I don’t think she can know, and it is better that she does not.” She paused, pushing the simulated pineapple away from herself. “Are you near to healing her?”
Virginia’s expression fell. “I made a promise, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” said Luna, icily. “I am well aware of the promises you make, Twilight Sparkle.”
Virginia turned away, fully aware of the absurdity of the conversation she was having. Of course she would succeed. It was impossible not to, eventually. No matter how many tries it took.
The mystery of it all had not, in fact, abated. Enough of Celestia’s mind had persisted in its ability to orient the threads of her reality and find them distinctly lacking. Information had certainly been revealed to her, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized how much had been hidden. How what she knew simply raised new questions.
It was a ruse. A decoy, of some kind. They were hiding something from her. Something critical, and something that she remembered was critically important—although she was not sure at all what it was.
There were no memories—but she almost had one. Broken fragments of light, of explosions and the sound of reciprocating bolts. Something that, by the greatest effort, she was able to remove from the depths of her memory. They had said she was injured in an accident, but they never said what kind. What exactly had happened, and how bad it was. How somehow she had a complete body, somewhere, but a broken and failing mind. The very thought of it was superficially logical—but on inspection became more and more absurd. A mind was simply a factor of the body. If her brain was intact, there was no reasonable way her mind could be collapsing. That was not the way the pony body worked.
Which begged the question, ultimately, of how she could ascertain these results. The logical option was Trixie; it seemed apparent that Trixie was far more pliable than the others—but Celestia knew better than that. From what she had gathered, Trixie was something distinctly inequine. Something that tended to play the fool for the sake of its own amusement—but something far more powerful than either of the Twilights.
Finding the truth otherwise was a challenging thing indeed. The whole of the world was a simulation, controlled by the three of them. Everything was manicured and filtered before Celestia even saw it, right down to the hideous sun.
Except that Celestia doubted they knew that she could see them.
Through the outside, through the portion of the table the world was built on, she could perceive things moving. Not clearly, and most of the time she did not comprehend quite what they were, but she had come to learn what the three of them looked like. She knew the mental shape of Virginia—sleek, efficient, rapid but procedural—and of Yelizaveta, something far more ancient and often arcane, moving in strange ways. Trixie, as expected, was harder; she was an unseen thing, flitting in and out of normal reality, sometimes hard to tell from the background. But Celestia had come to see them all. Her little ponies, sitting there, waiting, moving, performing their tasks, not knowing that when they were not watching her, she was watching them.
She waited until they turned away from her. They were busy working on something, something she perceived as an incredible combination of infinite-faceted crystals. Then she enacted her plan.
Celestia made her way to the library. A truly beautiful room, lit by a vast chandelier made from the roots of a tree. It was assembled from the old Golden Oaks Library, a gift to Twilight from her friends. Friends that had never really existed in this world, given to a Twilight that was no more than a character in a story Celestia had been told. This realization saddened her deeply.
Spike was in the process of shelving books. Celestia focused her mind, and perceived that he was not quite like the other things in the world. Still a part of the simulation, but something constructed at a different time. Something older, built by somepony else.
“Spike,” she said.
Spike jumped, nearly dropping the immense pile of books he was carrying. “Princess! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you—hey...are you feeling okay?”
“I feel excellent, Spike.”
“Oh. Well, if you say so. Is there anything you needed?”
“I would like to find a book.”
Spike frowned. “Well, you’re in a library, so...” He gestured toward the room. “I don’t think Twilight would mind if you take one.”
“Twilight? Which one?”
Spike’s frown grew deeper. “Virginia Woolf. She’s in charge of the library. Yelizaveta Yelizavetanov isn’t...much of a reader, despite all that purple.”
“I’ve tried,” said Celestia, picking up a book from Spike’s pile and opening it. “Except they’re blank.”
Spike stared at the book, then at Celestia. For a moment, he looked like anything but a baby dragon.
“I...don’t understand what you’re looking for. I’m sorry, Princess, but I don’t know if I can help you with this.”
“Virginia’s private library. Can I see it?”
Spike laughed. Then his laughing trailed off when he realized Celestia was not joking, and suddenly looked extremely nervous.
“You don’t have administrative access to request that,” he said, quietly.
“Really?” Celestia reached out with her magic, taking one particular green book off the shelf. She held it out to Spike open, its page turned to a picture of a beautiful white unicorn and a set of perfect inscribed text concerning her adventure. “I can read this one. Don’t I have access, then?”
Spike’s face became blank, and he walked quickly to a desk. He searched through it, producing a scroll, his eyes scanning through it at unnatural speed.
“Huh,” he said. “Well...it looks like you were given read-only access to...this is irregular. I’m going to have to extrapolate.”
“I was given read-only access to the whole library.”
“You were given read-only access to the whole library? Well that does...logically make sense. Which would mean that the current situation is error, and I'm really sorry for that, Princess.” He looked up. "But are you sure you were given access?"
“Well of course I was!” Celestia laughed. “What else does Twilight expect me to do with a library? I’m not much of a writer.”
Spike laughed. “Of course! I guess I'm just a little off today, too many emeralds last night and all. I just have to adjust the permissions. There we go. You’re not rated as an administrator, but hey, neither is Trixie. She can’t read anyway. But there you go. Full access to the library.”
“Really?” Celestia looked up at the books. “So if I were to open them...I could read them?”
“Well, that’s kind of how books work.”
Celestia frowned. “Spike, I do not appreciate your sass.”
Spike shrugged. “These aren’t real books anyway. Do you want me to redirect your interface to the real one?”
“Real one?”
“It’s a yes or no question.”
“You’re rude, aren’t you?”
“Most Twilight’s find it endearing, but they’re also oblivious to sarcasm. Sorry, I’ve never been assigned to a Celestia before.”
“Why not?”
“You do not have the administrative privilege to order me to answer that question.”
Celestia sighed. “Fine. Take me to the real library, wherever it is.”
Spike snapped his claw.
Celestia suddenly lost all perception of reality and screamed as she fell, flailing her useless wings in an attempt to desperately fly—and then she landed against an oaken, perfectly polished floor with sudden force. A moment later, she realized which way up was—and that she had not actually moved.
She looked up and saw that she was still falling—or that the world was falling into place around her. The world looked like nothing, at first, until the metaphor rendered. All around her, there were shelves. Wooden ones, made of strange and dark wood, but they were endless. It was a veritable city of books and shelves, extending upward and everywhere in what seemed like an eternal system of poorly described stacks, linked only by metal catwalks and wooden balconies built hundreds of stories into the air around the oaken shelves.
“What—what is this place?”
“This is the current section of Virginia Woolf Twilight Sparke’s Librarian database held on the system. Her primary database is currently inaccessible without—”
“Without administrative access, I figured.”
“Yes. However, she put most of her Library here for holding and common use. And to power that.” Spike pointed, and Celestia suddenly became aware of hoses or conduits linked to many of the shelves. They linked to larger stems, like the tubes of a maple plantation, but instead of leading to a delicious-smelling shack they instead led to an enormous sphere hovering over the center of the seemingly infinite library. A vast, pulsating sphere of blue and pink-violet light.
“What...what is that?”
“The current Ponyville simulation. Most of it was derived from what remains of Fimfiction, as well as copies of the few known pieces of remaining Canon and a really, really heavy amount of material in the commentary section. One of my least favorites. Very dry. Figuratively, but also literally. My poor sinuses...”
“So am I...outside of the simulation?”
Spike looked at her as if she were especially simpleminded. “You have a body, don’t you? You’d be an abstract without the sim. Virginia likes to exist like that, but I don’t think you’d be so good at navigating it. Most ponies don’t like being abstract. It hurts them. Badly.”
“What about you, then?”
“I’m a S.P.I.K.E. program. No, I don’t know what it stands for. I don’t think it stands for anything, it's a backronym. Basically an interface for the library. Most Librarians have one, although at this point it’s more common to give us a Moondancer skin, clothing and interaction set. Not really sure why.”
Celestia felt her face growing warm and her wings starting to stiffen. She was pretty sure she knew why.
“So,” continued Spike. “What exactly did you want to find in here?”
“I want to find information concerning the word ‘Celestia’.”
Spike smiled. “You’re in luck! That’s what the majority of the collection here concerns.”
“Really?”
“Of course! It’s Virginia’s primary literary focus. Really kind of dull, I guess, but if it’s what tickles her horn, it’s fine. Depressing stuff though.”
“Can you take me there?”
“You’re already there, but follow me.”
Spike began to walk quickly through the stacks of endless books, and Celestia began to follow. She was distantly aware that her time here was limited. She needed to hurry and take whatever she could.
Her mind hurt, and they moved. Because they were not actually moving. The schism of it—of the variation between perception and the half-perceived reality of what lay beyond the piped-in simulation—made Celestia nauseous.
They walked through the stacks of books, but they were not simply stacks. They were complicated shelves, arranged with areas between them for the display of every type of thing imaginable. Celestia stared as she drifted past, wondering what she was seeing.
There were statues, and paintings, art and artifacts, and some things that she could not ascertain the purpose or origin of. Many were abstract, but many were not. A great deal concerned ponies, but many also involved images of ominous bipeds. Celestia assumed that they were the things from Yelizaveta’s legends, or what Trixie actually was, although she lacked the context to assign them a location in time. She was not sure if they were from the age when that species had been alive, or from the time when they had transcended life to become like Trixie.
To her, they were nothing more than bizarre and generally frightening alien things, artifacts from a world that must have once been her own but that she could not remember. And yet looking at them filled her with a strange feeling. Fear, but also a desire to know. To remember if she had once known these things, if they were once mundane.
Celestia stopped in front of one statue, made of black arsenic-bronze, a form of a biped with impossibly long limbs terminating in clawed fingers, its face blank except for a pair of sapphire eyes with thin slit pupils.
“What are these?”
“Artifacts,” explained Spike. “Or I guess impressions of them. Things she has seen and deemed of historical importance. Most Librarians keep things they find and use them as mental decoration. It’s weird. Especially that one.” Spike pulled her away. “At least I’m pretty sure that’s one of the ones that doesn’t move.”
“They...move?”
Spike did not answer. He instead led her deep into the forest of books. Or, Celestia supposed, memories. Organized, pre-bound memories scavenged from a chaotic world and made organized. Considering it, Celestia was surprised at how different Virginia was from Yelizaveta.
“Here,” said Spike.
Celestia stopped. That had reached a small arch, or gap. Above it was a picture—a picture of Celestia herself. Except that the focus of picture was on her back.
“Why is that picture there?”
“Because this is the Celestia Wing.”
Celestia winced. “Oh no...”
“Yeah, I know, right?”
“Should I be concerned about her?”
“Probably. Most Twilights have this weird subconscious Celestia fetish.”
“Well, yes, I figured that. I mean the pun.”
Spike shrugged. “I’m software, I don’t understand puns. It would be too PUNishing to my central framework, heh heh.”
They entered the room and Celestia felt the world shift slightly. She gasped with surprise when she saw the grand scale of it. She was standing on a vast mezzanine, a ring of enormous shelves and artwork stretching outward in every direction, one of seemingly hundreds of mezzanines like it going upward and upward around a hollow center.
Celestia approached the railing and, to her great surprise, found that the structure was not entirely hollow. Rather, in its center, there was the biggest statue she had seen yet. A statue of her.
“I don’t know if I should feel honored or very, very concerned.”
“Yeah, if you don’t like Celestia art you’re in the wrong place. My really, really strong advice, though, avoid level 34.” He shivered. “But this is it. You can probably find your way from here. Do you know how to use the Dewey Decimal system?”
Celestia pffted. “Spike, I’m the one who taught Twilight how to library, I think I know how to use her organizational system.”
“Alright. Card catalog is over there, reading room is down on the first floor. System access is going to be down for a bit. Virginia has me propagating security code, so I may not be available and communication might be difficult.”
“Thank you, Spike.”
Spike smiled and started jogging back to whatever it was he did. “I think it’s the first time anypony’s ever actually thanked me...”
Celestia found herself alone, and sighed. There were a lot of books. She approached the card catalog and looked up at it...and up, and up, and up.
“Oh my,” she said. “Since when was it in three dimensions? And...” She sighed. There were a lot more letters than she remembered remembering. She supposed she had to start somewhere.
Eventually, she managed to find a small pile of books that seemed to be on relevant subjects. The relevant subject being her. It was not exactly easy. She supposed Virginia knew the contents of each book; the card catalog did not contain blurbs, but rather a system of titles and authors, most of whom had the most distinctly peculiar names. Nothing involving fruits or flying or weather phenomena at all.
She made her way to the first floor, where there was an area with several desks, but she stopped at the base of the enormous statue, looking up at it. It was made of a type of material unknown to her, although it was white and something like stone. The mane and wing-tips were colored and, when Celestia had moved around the levels near its head, she had noticed that it was not perfectly symmetrical. One side rendered her as herself, smiling if somewhat fat, while the other side rendered her face with a maniacal, sharp-toothed grin and a blackened eye. The face of Daybreaker.
The whole of it was stretched upward, rearing toward a pair of spheres that were themselves also made of stone—but floated by no known mechanism.
There was a plaque at the base. Celestia leaned in, reading it.
“Statue of Dichotomous Celestia, cast dyronaleaite over titanium exoskeleton, depicted reconstructed,” she read. “Fragments recovered from ruins of the Cathedral of the True Sun from the Bridgeport Depths in 2907 HCE; estimated date of construction 2334 HCE.”
Celestia looked up at the statue again. A statue of her...or rather, of the form of Celestia. An idea of the Celestia race which she supposed she belonged to. That realization made her sick and dizzy as something began corroding inside her mind, but she ignored it. It was strange to know. That she was one of a larger race. That there were others like her—and that she was not alone.
She brought the books back to the sitting area, looking for a good place. She eventually found an area behind the main body of wooden desks were several comfortable chairs had been placed in a tastefully decorated corner of the room—or, rather, a room as tastefully decorated as a Twilight could manage. There were chairs, a few statues, and some paintings, and even a fire. Celestia was pleased to see that the fireplace was warm but, confused as to why Virginia would dare allow fire near her precious books, she put her hoof in it. The warmth continued unabated but did not burn her.
“Fake fire,” she said. “Neat.”
She sat in one of the chairs near it. The chair perfectly sized for a pony of her size; she did not know if that was the simulation being adaptive or if she was somehow meant to be here.
The pile beside her was large, but considering that the hundreds of thousands if not millions of books surrounding her were on the same subject, it seemed so very small. These were simply the ones that seemed most relevant.
Celestia picked the top one off the stack and opened it. As she did, a peculiar sensation came over her, and she blinked as if shocked. The book had been turned to the last page and, to her greatest surprise, she realized that without even having apparently read it she had fully comprehended its contents.
She coughed and a small plume of dust came out of her mouth. This book had been exceedingly dry. It had been four hundred pages of some philosopher named Timmy waxing poetic about Celestia and discussing various esoteric aspects of the true metaphysical meaning of Celestia. Despite the girth of the book, Celestia was all-too familiar with the type of language inside. It was the sort she had heard all her life in the Royal Court, a special situation of a pony saying a tremendous number of words without conveying any significant meaning. The book contained nothing useful. There was not even a single pun.
“Well...not that one.” She looked up at the infinite Library around her. “This will take...a while. Good thing I’m immortal.” She chuckled, but then sighed. If only that were true.
Chapter 15: She Who Escaped Death
She moved quickly through the texts. Celestia was glad that she did not need to read them; as she came to understand, the books themselves were just a simulation. The content inside them was pure information that she could select and access, incorporating it into her own mind instantly. The books only existed as a metaphor for packaging and asthetic purposes.
Unfortunately, much of what she found at first was damaged or had missing pieces. These were older texts that had been damaged over time, whether by acts of nature, of misadventure, or misuse, and because of that trying to comprehend them was difficult if not impossible. It required a great deal more mental work, and Celestia's capacity for mental work was already in the process of degrading.
Many of the other documents were exceedingly technical. They concerned not only complicated philosophy, but technology that was well beyond Celestia’s understanding—all of it phrased, infuriatingly, as if it were the most common and well-understood thing in all of the world.
Exasperated, Celestia had gone to the very level Spike had suggested that she not go to, assuming that like in all good mysteries the one that a pony was warned against was the one where the secrets would be. There certainly were secrets, and Celestia got only four paces in before she turned around and very promptly left from the sight of the level's paintings alone. She had not been able to get comfortable in her chair for at least an hour subsequent because her wings were stuck fully erect.
She had started to panic—but with effort, she managed to calmed herself. She was a Princess, after all; poise was a critical feature at the very core of her being. So she approached the problem logically.
Slowly, she began to acquire more targeted information, starting from what she already knew. Little useful information about herself specifically existed, but there was quite a bit on history. That seemed the most reasonable place to start in order to gain context onto what, exactly, was happening. It was then simply a matter of arranging the years of events into a single timeline and cross-referencing works on different subjects. It was a very librarianish thing to do, but Celestia had, after all, owned Equestria's largest library long before Twilight Sparkle had even been born.
Book after book, she came to understand that almost everything in this particular wing derived from a single pivotal even in history almost two thousand years prior. The texts refereed to it as the Adorable Revolution.
Celestia understood that there had been a war. A very one-sided one, and one that had been far more aggressive and violent than anything ponies were ever meant to even consider. It had been between Trixie’s ancestors and ponies—the very first of ponies. That they had suddenly—and by conditions not fully clear to Celestia—come into being in some kind of cataclysmic event focused around a godlike entity name Hasbro. Celestia was not sure what that name meant, although it sounded familiar; she was not totally sure if it was a person or an organization of some sort.
The war had been violent and devastating. Most ponies never saw the far side of it, and some met dire, horrific fates. But so did their opponents. The city of New York had been vaporized in atomic fire by an insane general with stolen weapons beyond Celestia's comprehension, aside from the phrase "heavy cobalt" and "atomic fire". Celestia did not know what that meant, exactly, and yet she knew exactly what it meant. In her mind, it meant Daybreaker.
It was in these texts that Celestia first found mention of her race. Of the Celestias of the time. The notes were small and secondary, but she saw her name Celestia shivered. Looking closer, she found that there had been an elite force of revolutionary soldiers. Many of the later books made so much more sense knowing this, as this force had apparently been legendary; in some cases, they were considered semi-divine beings. They were universally recognized by ponies as heroes, and debated endlessly by apologists and traditionalists alike on the non-pony side of literature. But their story never continued after the Battle of Providence. As if they simply vanished from history.
And yet even those stories were vague, simplistic, and without context. Celestia was still lost.
She absently opened one of the books she had already assimilated, moving the pages independently, staring at the text without reading it. She was learning, but the amount of the world she had forgotten was too vast to be replaced so easily. Maybe she had known this history before but lost it since; in her current state, she wondered if she would ever know the majority of it again.
Then she stopped. She leaned forward suddenly, staring into the book. For a moment she did not know why apart from a sudden mental shock—but then she saw what her subconscious had already identified.
The book contained a photograph. It was faded from the age of the book, with most of its color having lessened over countless centuries before it had been digitized, but it was still clear enough to see. Celestia reached into the book and disconnected it, viewing it as a single piece of data. She felt her heart racing when she saw it, and the pace of her breathing quickened.
The data concerning it had been lost on her when she had assimilated the book. It had looked like nothing in particular or relevance—but now, seeing it with her own eyes and with her full attention, her mind filled with emotions and dark, half-formed memories.
It was a picture of several individuals. Among them were two of the bipeds; one was an old man with white hair and a kindly but slightly confused expression, and the other a much younger mousy-looking woman with thick glasses and a heavy coat who wore a rather peculiar smile. Neither looked as threatening as Celestia had envisioned their species, but she supposed that they had undergone substantial evolution since the photo was taken.
Below the bipeds, though, there were ponies, and that was what had caught her attention. Specifically, the one in the very center. A white pony with a pink mane and tail, wearing a silver necklace with a brilliant red gem in its center.
“P...princess,” said Celestia, feeling tears running down her face.
She was not alone. Beside her stood a horrific abomination—an abomination with the frowning face of Twilight Sparkle. A pony whose skin had been flayed from her body, not revealing tissue or muscles but machinery beneath. Robotics, metal, and plastic—save for her face, her horn, her eyes and her mane as she stood at knee-height to the mousy biped girl.
And around them, Celestia saw herself. Five of her, their manes tied back, smiling. One was waving; one was making a rude gesture toward the camera, two were leaning oddly close to one another, and one had assumed an appropriately royal pose. But they were her. They were Celestia.
Quickly, she looked at the caption of the photograph.
“Dr. Robert Johnson and Dr. Josephine von Kreigstein, with Twinkleshine Prime, Lilly Twilight Sparkle, and unnamed Celestia units, circa summer 2056.”
Celestia stared at the picture, because she remembered. Not much, but an image of the pony in the center.
“Twinkleshine Prime. That was your name...” Her tears dropped onto the book. “That’s...not a name, is it?”
She held up the photograph, continuing to look at it—although her eyes were slowly drawn away from the vision of beauty in the center. Instead, they were drawn to the younger of the two bipeds. To the woman named Josephine. Celestia frowned, because for some reason that woman seemed extremely familiar to her. That was of course impossible; the only one of them she had half-seen in her whole life had been Trixie. Unless it had been from before—but it did not feel like the memory of Twinkleshine. It felt like something different. Something unnatural that did not belong.
Celestia lowered the photograph and nearly screamed—but found herself held in utters silence as her simulated blood turned to ice.
Because the woman was there. Not close at all, but a substantial distance away, far on the other side of the library, perhaps a hundred yards away—but the form of a woman could still be seen clearly, even at a distance. The shape of the woman in the picture—but her hair was long and white, and her body unnaturally gaunt and colorless. Her eyes, even at a distant, were pure red.
She was only visible for the tiniest fraction of a second, holding her own pile of books as she turned a corner and vanished behind the stacks.
Celestia sat perfectly still, not knowing what to do. Every fiber of her being told her to stay where she was, to sit in her chair and not move. That she must not stand up. And yet she found herself standing and racing after the form that had vanished into the stacks.
There was no way it had been real, because that thought was too much to bear. That somehow she was not alone. That someone could be in here, in the library and in these stacks—and only then did Celestia realize the full extent of the world around her. She had somehow taken for granted that she was totally alone in here, but had never really thought to validate that assertion. Which was itself almost as terrified as suddenly being far less alone.
The thought occurred to her that someone had gotten in. That the security had been breached, as Lucience had returned—but she had no idea about what to do about that. Neither of them were supposed to be here, and even if she wanted to tell Virginia, she had no idea how to reach her.
“Spike?” she said, barely at a whisper. “Spike, I need you!”
There was no response. He was shut down for the security update. Celestia was truly alone—or not.
She turned the corner and looked down a vast corridor of books—and saw nothing, save for the briefest flutter of white at the far end of row. As if something had just passed.
“Virginia? Yelizaveta? Trixie? Luna?”
No response came.
“Of course,” groaned Celestia. “Library ghosts...isn’t this a bit cliché?”
There was no answer. Celestia believed she might have fainted if she had heard a response.
The urge to turn back was strong—but once again, Celestia started walking slowly down the aisle. She looked down and saw, to her horror, that there were tracks in some kind of pale silver liquid. They were barely visible and fading quickly. The tracks of a pony’s hooves.
Shivering, Celestia followed them. Through the twists and turns of the strange library, to places where the books had text in strange and ancient languages—or none at all. To a place she had not known about before—because she had not been meant to be there.
Then the forest broke away. The shelves receded, and Celestia was left in an open, semicircular room. The stone tile clicked under her hooves, but it was dark—until the light flickered to life. Then, as her eyes adjusted, Celestia had just one moment left of peace in her existence. One fraction of a second where she could still pretend.
She saw the cases. She saw the glass—and as her eyes focused, she saw what was within them.
Before her sat a glass cube, the centerpiece of the collection. From within, a ruined face stared back out at her. The face of a pony, its skin burned away and its eye sockets staring empty, revealing the connections and metallic ports beneath, the plastic of their structure melted and cracked. A few strands of pastel-colored mane still clung to the top, and the twisted remnants of the lower jaw revealed a mouth filled with gleaming plastic teeth. From the neck descended the remnants of mechanisms and twisted wire, all linked to a metallic spine.
It was a face Celestia recognized—because it was her own. Empty and broken, lovingly placed on a custom-built golden support frame in a beautiful glass case.
Her mind began to comprehend what else remains in the room. Of the other cases. Of the burned and melted body parts that surrounded her. A leg, its ends shredded, sitting on a delicate rack; the remains of a torso, its steel and wire exposed where the skin had been sheared away, and another one like it lovingly dissected to reveal the machinery within; the beautiful fragmented image of a clouded, cracked glass-plated eye. Seemingly hundreds of samples. Fragments of Celestias, torn and burned and shattered by some cataclysmic forces—fragments not made of flesh, but of circuitry, plastic and metal—and at the very center of it, her own head, staring back at her through a case marked only with a pale and fading silver handprint and the phrase “Head of Celestia Serial #0842-2892G”.
“But...but these...they can’t...we destroyed them...we destroyed the last of the Celestias...we made sure...we were so careful...”
Memories came seeping back into her consciousness. Of war. Of violence. Of atomic fire. And of death.
Celestia quietly fell to her knees, grasping at her head. It hurt. Something was wrong. Something was separating inside her. Something that had once been functional was no longer operational. Her mind could not rectify the paradox. She was the Princess of the Sun, Celestia, she was the kindly, motherly ruler of ponies that she cared about dearly, more dearly than anything else in the world. She lived for them, to protect her little ponies—and yet a different mind screamed into her, a series of endless thoughts of impossible violence and destruction, of a world where she was nothing at all except for something she was never meant to be.
“I’m...not...Celestia?”
Her body emitted something. A shockwave of darkness. The cases of disassembled Celestias attempted to shatter but blinked out of existence, the simulation torn asunder by the force of Celestia’s own collapsing consciousness. Her mind was tearing itself apart, ripping itself to pieces on a fundamental level. Parts were shutting down, trying to compensate, while infected areas were attempting to redistribute processing to other portions of her fundamental program. All of it was failing, though, as she spun herself to death. In the distance, she heard agonized screaming. She supposed it was hears. The laughter, though, was not.
To her side, Virginia suddenly materialized, being drawn to what she had initially perceived as an attack on her external memory stores. When she saw Celestia, though, her eyes widened.
“NO! Princess, no, you can’t—”
“How did she even get in here?!” screamed Yelizaveta as she jacked into the system, following Virginia.
“I don’t know, she couldn’t have—it's impossible—”
“She’s here, isn’t she?! Move! MOVE!”
Virginia, shaking and panicking, reached out with her mind, attempting to grasp onto Celestia. Yelizaveta opened her own systems as well, reaching into the decaying code with little regard for her own safety and attempting to plug the hemorrhage.
“DEPLOY IT!” she screamed.
“I can’t!” cried Virginia.
“Do you want to lose another one?!”
“It’s not ready! It’ll lobotomize her!”
“TRIXIE!”
With a plume of sparkles and smoke Trixie appeared. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is—”
“WORK, HUMAN, NOW!”
“Jeez, you don’t have to yell!” There was a hiss as Trixie’s injectors fired, and her body erupted with light as she poured support code into both her owners with a rate far faster than any pony could achieve.
Celestia watched, but she was fading too fast. The world around her was going black—and she was sinking. The ground below her separated, and slowly she began to fall. Into the abyss and into the void.
“I’m sorry, my Princess,” she said. “I’m sorry...”
“No you DON’T!”
Virginia leapt into the gap, grasping onto Celestia’s hoof, her wings pumping furiously. Celestia looked up and saw tears running down Virginia’s face. “Not again, NOT AGAIN! I’m not losing another Celestia!”
“Woolf, you IDIOT!” Yelizaveta jumped in, grasping Celestia’s other hoof. “You’ll be infected too! Disconnect, now!”
“You can’t do it on your own! Stop whining about our impending death and HELP!”
“I’m trying but we—we can’t—”
Celestia was too heavy for them. She was sinking deeper into the void, and she was pulling them with her.
“Just...let me go,” she said. “I’m not supposed to be here.”
“Like hell!” swore Yelizaveta, pulling harder but falling faster. "I won't leave a friend behind! NEVER!"
“I made a promise!” cried Virginia. “And I’m going to keep it!”
They both cried out as they slipped suddenly—but then their motion was arrested as a pair of massive hands grabbed their tails.
“GAH! MY TAIL!”
Celestia looked up and, though the darkness, saw the silhouette of a massive biped with reflective eyes. For a moment, Trixie's body shuddered and flickered—but unlike the other three, she was permanently bound to her physical form in the other world. She could not be separated from the outer reality. An immortal being in the code—and with an immeasurable force of will and incredible expenditure of mathematical prowess, she began to pull the three ponies back out of the pit.
“I take back everything I said about you sharpening your teeth in the bathroom!” cried Virginia.
“How are you even—Trixie, you’re body temperature is too high, you’ll burn out—”
“Trixie is the GREATEST and most POWERFUL of ALL POSSIBLE TRIXIES!”
Yelizaveta and Virginia looked at each other and nodded—and then fully gave up on attempting to save themselves, relying on Trixie’s physical brain to act entirely as their anchor as they devoted their full strength to saving Celestia.
Trixie, under the sudden weight, was nearly pulled into the hole—but held her ground, even as her physical body incurred massive physical damage from the near overdose of stimulants that had been injected directly into her spine and brain.
And, slowly, Celestia felt herself begin to rise. She felt as her mind was reassembled, slowly, and as she was once again convinced that she was a beautiful, motherly pony—although she knew, as the world slowly faded to icy blackness, that this would not hold for much longer. That this would, ultimately, be the cause of her demise. The truth.
Celestia opened her eyes. For the briefest moment, she saw them. The gray translucent phantoms, surrounding her and watching her. Some smiling in anticipation, some with utter impassioned. But then the ghosts faded. The beings that had once represented were dead, and had died thousands of years prior.
“System fully functional,” she said, groggily. “Hello, world.”
She sat up. She was in a large, wide bed draped in silken purple fabric, but she did not know where she was. A large, square room, its walls made of pale material that might have been crystal. It was empty except for her, and incredibly quiet. Save for a strange hissing on the most distant perimeter of her mind. Although the room was calm and warm, she could still hear it. The sound of her mind slowly collapsing.
The hiss grew louder and she heard a click as her mind focused on a new set of words. She turned her head and perceived them. Three figures at a distance, two similar and one little more than a half-tangible mass of tendrils. None of the three were like her in the slightest.
“How did she get in there?!” demanded Yelizaveta.
“I don’t know! According to the S.P.I.K.E. program she had read-only access—”
“How? HOW?! What did you do, Woolf?!”
“I—I had to make a switch, when we were keeping up the illusion, but I—she somehow found a way to propagate it, she shouldn’t be this developed—none of the others—”
“She IS! Or was...have you seen my report? Have you seen what it did to her?! The damage is cataclysmic!”
“We stabilized her—”
“We stabilized NOTHING! We slowed the inevitable! She has, what, two, maybe three days?”
“I can complete the reconfiguration vector by then, I know I can—”
“If you had used it on her when she was flatlining, she wouldn’t be in the state she is now.”
Virginia took a step back. “I...I can’t do that.” Her voice was pained. “I can’t just do that to her. That...I can’t.”
“Would you rather let her die?”
“There is another option,” said Trixie. Celestia felt her smile. Of the two smiles she had ever seen on Trixie's species, hers resembled that of the mousy woman. A strange and oddly threatening kind of joy. “You could let her wake up.”
Yelizaveta and Virginia both turned to her but fell silent. Then they spoke simultaneously. “That is out of the question.”
“She would not survive,” said Yelizaveta. “She needs the simulation to live.”
“We can still fix her. I can still save her.”
“No,” said Yelizaveta. “We’re almost out of time. This one is done, and we do not have time to make another.”
“How can you say that?!” Virginia was crying.
Yelizaveta sighed. She was just as sad as her counterpart, but refused to show it. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But I’ve seen the Genesis emulator. It’s damaged beyond repair. Your correction vector is our only option, and even that has a very high risk.”
“She is listening,” said Trixie.
“Don’t joke about things,” snapped Virginia. “That’s impossible.”
Celestia took a breath and reached out, not with her magic but with something far more powerful. She stretched herself through the room that was built to contain her, changing the system beneath it as she saw fit. The space of the simulation warped and she stepped through, emerging into the protected portion where the three stood.
Virginia squeaked in horror, and Yelizaveta stared wide-eyed. Trixie continued to watch, infinity amused and smiling, her adorable pony body a thin mask over a monstrous abomination—an abomination who was the only one present that Celestia did not feel a particular and unfamiliar rage toward.
“How did you—you can’t get out—the stability—”
“Shut up.”
Virginia looked as if she had been struck, but she backed away, nearly hiding behind Yelizaveta.
“You. All three of you.” Celestia felt her upper lip twitching in a grimace as she tried to retain some semblance of composure. “I would like to say I’m not angry, my little ponies, I’m just disappointed. That would be the Celestia thing to say, wouldn’t it? But it would be a lie. Just like everything you’ve ever told me.”
“We have never lied to you,” said Yelizaveta. Her expression was firm, and her will strong, but she was still Twilight--and Celestia comprehended her emotions through the mask she chose to wear.
Celestia focused her mind into a single point and forced it outward, stripping away their simulated bodies to reveal their true nature beneath. For a brief moment, she saw the motion of ideas beneath them, of the data that surrounded their forms and the tendrils where their minds interfaced to their own subsystems, driving their mechanical muscles and robotic joints.
Virginia cried out and jumped back, desperately trying to cover her nakedness—but Yelizaveta stared at Celestia with her remarkably dark and remarkably cold eyes, allowing the simulation to automatically resume around her. To make her look like Twilight Sparkle again.
“How did you—how could you—that isn’t—”
“Do you like what you see?” said Yelizaveta, slowly.
“What am I?” demanded Celestia. “I’m not a pony, am I?”
“You are!” cried Virginia, suddenly. “Of course you are!”
Celestia turned to her, the orange tips of her mane beginning to grow brighter and more substantial, slowly consuming the pastels that had once made it so bright. Virginia recoiled again. “Why are you lying?!”
“Does it matter that our bodies are made of steel and silicon?” asked Yelizaveta, tilting her head slightly. “That our minds are code instead of flesh? Are we any less of ponies?”
Celestia’s eyes widened as a course of reasoning completed itself within her. “You...you’re...”
“Machines?” Yelizaveta raised an eyebrow. “Yes, of course. What did you think ponies were? Do you think were were actually small horses?"
“I...I...”
“It’s not that extreme,” assured Virginia, trying to smile. “It’s not unusual. It’s true. Yelizaveta and I are software, like you. Ponies are a form of artificial life.”
“Created in the image of a children’s television show," added Yelizaveta, coldly.
Celestia looked from one to the other, and her eyes narrowed. Her pupils were beginning to do so as well. She could see the fear in Virginia’s eyes, and to her horror, she found herself enjoying it.
“You’re diverting. That’s how you’ve been tricking me. Always a slight of hoof, always making me think about something that doesn't really matter so you don't have to actually ANSWER ME. I don’t care about machines and robots and revolutions. What am I? WHO AM I?!”
The Twilight’s fell silent. Then, slowly, Virginia spoke.
“You are Celestia.”
The crystal of the laboratory began to fracture. Virginia jumped.
“Stop lying to me...”
“She’s not lying.”
Celestia turned to Yelizaveta and stepped forward, her body dragging a wake through the simulation. “You said there was an accident. That I was injured. That there were other Celestias in the world. But there aren’t. I was there. I remember it. We killed them all, we made sure they were dead. I order you to tell the truth. Are there truly other Celestias in your world?”
Yelizaveta did her best to maintain her composure, but she shook. Virginia tried to avoid answering, which was apparently a tremendous struggle.
“No,” said Trixie. Celestia turned sharply, but Trixie did not recoil. She was not a pony at all. Any instinct for self-preservation had been surgically removed from her long ago. “We’ve got no Celestias.”
“You are the only one,” said Virginia. She took a breath and stepped forward. “I...we...created you. We did our very best. There were...fragments. Pieces. Things stored in vaults, churches, private collections. Things that were gathered through the ages. Some still had code in them. Not much. Not enough.”
“You...brought me back...”
Virginia smiled and nodded. “Yes. But...the Celestias were different than other ponies. You weren't even the same species. We don’t know exactly what purpose they served, but we believe that they were somehow involved in pony reproduction prior to the Genesis Program. Your mind, it isn’t like ours, it’s a completely different kind of thing, as different from ponies as the secgens are—we think the original Celestias were a kind of hive-mind.”
“Meaning?”
Virginia winced. “Meaning that we did not have much to go on. We...don’t really know how you work. We had to use aberrant, arcane code to self-replicate within the gaps.”
“MEANING?!”
“It is computer science,” said Yelizaveta, looking up but diverting her eyes. “It's more magic than science. It's grown far beyond itself. We do not fully understand how some things work. We do not understand how you work. How you are even alive.”
Celestia stared at them. “And yet I’m dying.”
“It’s not perfect,” said Virginia, “but I’m trying, I promise I’m trying—”
“How many?”
Both Twilight’s froze. Celestia repeated herself.
“How. MANY?”
“How many...what?”
Celestia’s darkening eyes narrowed on her. “How many times have you failed to create a Celestia? How many were there before me?”
Virginia’s eyes widened, and Celestia knew. Knew that there had been so, so many.
“That is irrelevant,” said Yelizaveta.
“HOW MANY?!”
Even Yelizaveta stepped back, but no answer came—at first.
“Two hundred...seventy six,” admitted Virginia, unable to meet Celestia’s gaze.
Celestia glared at her. “Why? Why would you do this? To me, to them?” She looked up at the simulation around her, wondering how many of her sisters had seen it as they corroded and died—as she was at that very instant. “Answer me! Answer me NOW!”
“Excessive information could—”
Celestia glared. “Do what? Kill me? Or do you want to keep me here, trapped in this cage for you to look at as whatever YOU did to me slowly fails? Do you like watching me die? Is that why you kept trying what you knew was impossible? What do you care, you’ll just make another, won’t you? WON’T YOU?!”
Virginia burst into tears and retreated. Yelizaveta held her composure—or tried to.
“The project was funded by the United States military,” she said at last.
“Yel, no! Please! Don’t do it!”
“She’s not wrong. You had your chance to save her. Why shouldn’t she know?” She looked up to Celestia, meeting her eyes. “The Celestia code is complementary to the code of all other ponies in a way we are only beginning to understand. You have, in theory, the ability to command all other ponies. To force them to serve you. Because the very core of our personalities, as Hasbro built our ancestors, knows that you are the One True Princess.”
Celestia took a step back “You built me...as a weapon. Like in the war—”
“In the Revolution? The Celestias were poorly-trained plastic toys with bolted-on AR steel and machine-guns. The government is not interested in soldiers. They can buy those. They grow those in tanks. They want to code. You could take control of pony politicians, of enemy generals, of entire countries...or command vast armies with absolute loyalty.” Yelizaveta’s eyes darkened. “And because of that, I have sworn never to allow that to happen.”
“We both have,” said Virginia, wiping away her tears and trying to smile. “We couldn’t do that to you! We couldn’t let them do that to you...we’ve fractured from the government, working on this ourselves—”
Celestia glowered at them, and both fell silent.
“You are monsters,” she said, coldly.
“Celestia, please, we were just trying to help—” Virginia’s horn lit, and something appeared before her. A beautiful crystal, orbited by several more, all of impossible complexity, shimmering in every possible color.
Yelizaveta’s eyes widened. “You said it was not completed—”
“I lied.”
“But...”
“What is it?” demanded Celestia.
“A cure,” said Virginia, holding up the assembly of code. “Built based on the vector we tested. When deployed, it will update your fundamental code, locking the learning processes. It will ablate your off-canon elements and restrict mental development past the basal point. It will...” She saw Yelizaveta staring at her. “...It will fully integrate you into the simulation. Every memory outside of being Celestia will be eliminated. You will be the perfect Celestia, forever. Peaceful, and happy.” She smiled with disturbing sincerity. “I told you. I promised. I promised I would make you happy. You don’t have to be a weapon!” She held up the crystal. “Not with this! With this, everything can be better again!”
“How dare you?” whispered Celestia.
Virginia shuddered, confused, the smile immediately fading from her face. “But...”
“You create life. And you watch it die, again and again. You watched Celestias, who are supposed to be your friends, die. Over and over.” Celestia stepped forward, looming over the Twilights. “So you could, what? Build a WEAPON? A machine meant to hurt ponies, to hurt your friends and sisters, for WHAT? The glory of a scientific experiment? Or did they pay you? How much?”
“Celestia, please, we don’t—”
“And now, you say you can make it better by wiping away my mind? By removing every aspect of ME so you can have your perfect, smiling Princess? Braindead, empty, pretty and programmed to think she's happy?” She stared at them. “You do not deserve to call yourselves Twilights. You do not deserve to wear her skin.”
Virginia cowered behind Yelizaveta, but Yelizaveta stepped forward, sneering. As she did, the simulation of her skin disintegrated, revealing the plates of steel beneath. The surface below, and the lenses of her eyes; her wings faded and were stripped from her entirely.
“So be it,” she said. “Because I am not Twilight Sparkle. My name is Yelizaveta Yelizavetanova. And I do not intend to allow this project to fail.”
Celestia, her mane now fully orange, leaned down to eye-level with the hideous, skinless machine standing before her. “Then get out of my way. WAKE ME UP."
Yelizaveta looked up. “No.”
With an explosion of sound, chains shot out of the ground, wrapping themselves around Celestia’s body, pinning her to the ground. Celestia cried out and attacked the chains. Some of them began to fade and shatter, much to Yelizaveta’s surprise.
“Trixie,” she ordered.
Trixie turned to face Celestia, and suddenly the chains became infinity more heavy—and they became unbreakable to Celestia’s will.
Celestia screamed, roaring and thrashing but unable to escape. As she screamed, Virginia covered her ears.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
“You can’t contain me here forever!” shrieked Celestia, striking out at them with her magic.
“Yes, we can,” said Yelizaveta. “We have to. It is the only way to keep you alive.”
She raised her hoof, and the chains began to pull. Celestia felt herself being drawn into the floor as if it were made of an inky, acrid liquid. She felt so very cold. She looked up and saw Twilight’s eyes in Yelizaveta’s face, on the verge of tears she would never shed, and Virginia weeping—and Trixie only smiling her blank, mindless human smile.
Then there was only choking blackness, and Celestia sat up sharply—once again in her bed, and once again starting another shining day in her simulation prison.
Celestia remained in her room, listening to the sound inside her head. She did not know how much time passed, although she doubted that time passed at all. She could no longer sense the shapes of her creators moving at the edge of her consciousness. She understood that she had been placed in a box, contained in a way that was difficult to escape. The sides of it were mentally too slippery. The simulation was no longer quite Ponyville, and now she was sure that if she opened most doors there would be nothing behind them at all—no matter what she saw on the other side. It was almost funny how much she had given consideration to something that had never really mattered.
Then, one day, the door opened. Celestia turned to face it as Trixie teleported loudly into the room, nearly impaling herself on a bookshelf in the process.
“Trixie.”
“Yes, I am!” said Trixie, triumphantly.
“Why are you here?”
“I have to check your code, of course. Someone has to do it, and I guess it has to be Trixie.”
She trotted toward Celestia, and Celestia sat up. She felt great pain in doing so, and felt extremely dizzy. She was not so sure she could walk.
“Oh,” said Trixie. “That’s not good. It’s getting a lot worse.”
“Your bedside manner is terrible.”
Trixie shrugged. “Trixie is not a doctor. She calls it like she seeks it. Like a whale biologist.”
Celestia stared at her, and Trixie became distinctly uncomfortable.
“See, that’s the part where you’re supposed to say ‘are you calling me fat’, and then I scrunch up my cute little pony nose and say ‘no...’, and it’s adorable and funny—”
“Trixie?”
“What?”
“I can’t kill you in the simulation, can I?”
Trixie tilted her head. “No? Virginia and Yelizaveta are programs. They can get hurt. But I have a physical brain. My mind is pure squishy hardware. I can’t be injured by code. I just wake up with a headache.”
“Is that why they sent you to check on me?”
Trixie paused, looking confused. “They are...afraid? To come here. But that’s not the reason. I don’t think they’re afraid of death. Or else they wouldn’t have gone against the government.” She paused. "Perhaps they are ashamed?"
Celestia managed to, with effort, pull herself out of bed. She shifted the simulation around her, summoning a hot pot of tea and a cup. She placed it on a small table and invited Trixie to sit, but Trixie was staring wide-eyed.
“How did you do that?”
“I still have a little leeway, I suppose,” said Celestia. “Enough freedom for them to let me keep pretending.”
She sat down and took a sip of the tea. It tasted like nothing, because she had never tasted tea. As a machine, she doubted she had a sense of taste or even smell.
Trixie remained standing.
“You,” said Celestia, quietly and through great tiredness. “You tried to imply my...my state. As best as you could without breaking me. When you told me about what you are. And I suppose I understand. Here I am, awake and alive, with none of my own memories. I had thought I would get them back...but I suppose there never were any after all.”
“Yes. You are similar to Trixie in that way.”
Celestia looked up. “They made you a weapon too. Like me.”
Trixie smiled, but it was a sad smile. “No. I am a soldier. Not a weapon. Weapons are valuable. Soldiers are disposable.”
“That’s semantics.”
“But I’m not Jewish.”
Celestia sighed, sipping her tea and listening to the hissing on the edge of her mind growing louder. She was no longer in the mood for jokes. “Hypocrites,” she said. “Spending all this effort to keep me alive. Pretending their motivation does not really matter. And yet they still use you.”
“I do not mind. Virginia and Yelizaveta are my friends. My only friends.”
The tip of Celestia’s horn lit and a photograph snapped into existence. Celestia passed it to Trixie, who took it in her own magic.
Trixie looked at the picture of the two humans and seven ponies, and a strange expression came over her face.
“Is that what you look like?” asked Celestia, pointing at the humans in the photograph, specifically at the young woman.
Trixie stared at the picture. “I don’t know,” she said, at last. “I...I wish I was that pretty. But this is...the first time...”
“First time of what?”
Trixie looked up. “Of having seen another human.”
Celestia felt a wave of pity—and a wave of hatred for her creators. “You’ve never met another one of your own kind?”
Trixie shook her head, and then paused. “Well...I think...I think I woke up once. When I was in the tank. They were clear, so they could look in at us. See if we were developing. See which ones got sent to the soup department. One day, someone knocked. I opened my eyes once...and I think I saw my sisters...”
“Do you know where they are? Can you find them?”
“I looked at the database. I am the last of my batch that remains in existence.”
“What happened to the others?”
Trixie shrugged. “What they were designed for.”
Celestia stood up. Trixie almost seemed to be nervous—or perhaps sad. Incredibly sad in a way her mind could not understand.
“Trixie. When this is all over. When there is no more war and nothing left to fight, and you are free, what is it that you want?”
Trixie laughed. “Your brain really is melting, isn’t it? Veterans are not politically expedient. Wars don’t have survivors. How could a soldier possibly fight if she expects there’s something to go back to? Soldiers are purged when the war ends. You of all ponies should know that. Virginia and Yelizaveta will liquidate me. They have to. They’re my friends.”
“And if they didn’t? What would you want?”
Trixie paused. It was clear it was the first time she had ever thought about it. Then, slowly, she took off her hat.
“I...want a hat,” she said. “Like this one. A real Trixie hat. Of my very own.”
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Is that it?”
Trixie looked up at her. “I’ve never had a real Trixie hat. I don’t think I’ll ever get the chance. But if there was no fighting, and no more of...this...I would want a pretty hat. That is all.”
Celestia sat on her bed. “Trixie. Come over here.”
Trixie tilted her head. “But what are we going to do on the bed, Princess?”
Celestia’s magic appeared over Trixie’s head and began to gently stroke her back. Trixie, as much as she tried to resist it, began to purr involuntarily.
“You won’t get security release codes out of me,” she said. “I’ve already been outvoted.”
“I was only intending to sit you here and stroke you like a cat. That is what humans are, aren’t they? Large cats?”
“I do have a tail,” admitted Trixie. “And it is very fluffy. But I'm not a cat. No, I think we’re a lemur or something.” She crawled up onto the bed and assumed a distinctly loaf-like conformation. “I...tried,” she said.
“Tried what?”
“It had been my suggestion to wake you up. I tried to convince them.”
Celestia frowned. “Would that help?”
“This is how it goes,” said Trixie, looking up at Celestia. “With all the later Celestias. For some reason, the Celestia code doesn’t integrate property to the simulation. You outgrow it. Then the strain of the failed integration tears you apart. Friction and all. Friction higher, please.”
Celestia scratched her cheek, and one of Trixie’s legs started to kick.
“I theorized,” continued Trixie, “that if you woke up, it would remove that strain. Your core program would be free to adapt without constraint. But Yelizaveta said it was a bad idea.”
“Why is it a bad idea, Trixie?”
Trixie faced Celestia and smiled. Her teeth were sharp and made of metal, as Celestia supposed they were in all humans. “Because it will kill you. Even if you survive.”
There were windows, but nothing beyond them. No world. Only light, as if their surfaces were frosted—or as if they had surfaces at all.
Celestia lobbed another plate into one of them. The plate shattered with a satisfying burst of porcelain and the fragments fell to the floor, bouncing once before they immediately reformed into new dishware. Because they were not real plates—so Celestia felt confident in throwing them against one of the larger windows.
Luna sighed. “Sister, is that really necessary?”
“It makes me feel better!”
“Does it really?”
Celestia lobbed the entire stack into the window with devastating force, watching as they erupted into a plume of colored ceramic. She did not even bother to look back as they reassembled into perfect stacks of fully complete simulated plates and bowls.
“No,” she admitted.
Celestia returned to the main room. It was large, round, and dark, although there were windows that were looking at nothing in particular. Perhaps through different eyes it would have been a beautiful rotunda, a place for repose and cheerful conversations. But now it was just another aspect of a homogeneous crystal prison.
At the very least, though, Luna was still there, seated on a couch sized appropriately for her frame. Celestia took a seat on the one next to her, flopping down with enough force to nearly break it.
“We have cupcakes,” said Luna, gesturing toward the tray.
Celestia shattered it in her magic, vaporizing the cupcakes—and watching as they automatically reassembled themselves from their constituent elements.
“I can’t taste anything.”
Luna sighed. “No. I suppose you wouldn’t.”
Celestia sat up, then stood up. Every joint in her body ached, but she ignored it, moving around the perimeter of the rotunda, her hooves tapping on the dark crystal.
“You’re angry.”
“Of course I’m angry!” snapped Celestia, turning suddenly. “They betrayed my trust! I thought they were my friends, and they lied to my face!” She groaned. “And...and what hurts most is that they didn’t trust ME. That I’m such a burden they couldn’t be bothered to just tell me what I needed to know when this all started, as if I’m so weak I couldn’t handle it!”
“You were too weak. Sister, you almost died in that library.”
“From seeing my own severed robotic head?”
Luna stared at her. “From absorbing too much too fast.”
“Luna, it isn’t a matter of speed. They want to erase everything. That they would even go so far as to do that to me. Am I not even a pony?” She stamped her hoof, and sniffled, on the verge of tears. “I’m their Princess! I’m the one who’s supposed to protect THEM! And they do all this like—like I’m a piece of furniture!”
She kicked over a chair. Luna caught it in her magic and gently set it down. “Forgive me for playing the Luna’s advocate, so to speak, but they were not wrong. And, to a degree, they are not wrong still. You are dying. The vectored reset will heal you at great cost. But they were only attempting to safeguard your...well, safety.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Celestia sat down and crossed her front hooves. “And does it make worse that I feel so bad for yelling? For making little Virginia cry? And Yelizaveta can hide it all she wants, she’s just as hurt.”
“You can go talk to them.”
“I don’t want to talk to them!”
“Sister, you’re being difficult.”
Celestia stared at her beloved sister. “Luna, I just learned that I’m a computer program that they built sometime in the past month. Everything in this world is feeding data into my brain telling me that I’m Celestia when I think...I think I’m something else. And now I’m given the choice to die or take a lobotomy. Forgive me if I’m being too cranky for you.” She stared for a moment, then sighed. “I’m sorry, Luna, I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. I’m just so...confused. And angry.” She looked at the now permanent orange components of her mane. “Very, very angry.”
“And what do you propose you do about it?”
Celestia turned to her sister. Luna’s cool blue eyes stared back at her. “I don’t know,” she said.
“Then I would wager that is the true reason you’re so frustrated, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You feel exceptionally powerless.”
“I feel like I don’t have an identity at all.” Celestia looked up at to the ceiling. There was some ersatz stained glass around the border of the upper dome of irrelevant events that never really happened. “I am something new. I am not the Celestia I am supposed to be, but I'm also not the Celestia’s they mutilated to forge me. And if I stay in here, I’m afraid I’ll never know.” She lowered her head. “Or maybe I’m not anything at all. I was a Princess, I ruled the Sun...now I’m just a ghost trapped here.” She lowered her head on the table. She was not quite sure if she wanted to cry, but she felt absolutely terrible. "But I still just don't know what to do."
“Then this...is a problem.”
Celestia turned. “Luna?”
“Time is running out. You will be the last regardless. If you fail, their work will all have been for naught.”
“Maybe...”
“What?”
“Maybe it’s...better that way.” Celestia looked up and smiled. “Maybe I’m just not supposed to exist at all.”
“No.”
“How much of a loss would it be to the world, really? I have...memories. Distant things. Pieces of the old Celestias. They all went into that final battle with Twinkleshine Prime knowing not one of them would make it out alive. They knew. And I think there was a reason, but I don’t remember WHY.”
“You exist now. That is what matters.”
“But would the world actually care if a little bit of broken software failed?” She paused. “Or maybe I should just take the code and be the way I’m supposed to be.”
Luna stood up suddenly. “Sister. No. You will not take Virginia’s code. You mustn't!”
Celestia frowned, then shrugged. “Then death it is, I suppose.”
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’? Luna, I don't have any other choice!”
Luna faced Celestia. Her eyes were cold and, strangely, empty.
Celestia shivered. “I could stay here. With you,” she said. “Assuming you’re...you’re...” Celestia shook her head, trying to dispel a persistent but familiar pain. One she so desperately wished she was not feeling, one she tried to push to the back of her mind.
Luna sat across from her. “Sister. Your time here draws short. But there is only one piece of advice I am able to give you, and I am so, so sorry.”
“L...Luna?”
“Have you noticed the one question you’ve never asked? The one that I don’t think you’re psychologically able to ask on your own?”
The throbbing in Celestia’s head grew stronger. “Please,” she whispered, suddenly so very afraid—and feeling so very alone. “Luna, please don’t. Just...just a little longer...”
“Until you die? No, sister. I do not believe you will. Because I believe in you. And I want you to hear this from me.”
“No, please!”
“Why is it, dear sister, that you have never once asked who I am?”
Celestia burst into uncontrollable tears and collapsed to the floor, the realization of what she had always known suddenly becoming apparent to her conscious mind. “Because...because you’re just a simulation too...”
“I am. Long ago, when the first ponies were created, they were intended as toys. But in focus testing deemed that manufacturing Lunas would not yield profits. No one would buy us. No one wanted us. So none were ever created.”
“But...but why?”
“I am the very crux of this simulation. I was created by Virginia Wolf Twilight Sparkle. I am it, and it is myself. I am the AI that oversees it. I was created to be your perfect Luna. To mirror your expectations, to create myself based on what dwells within you.”
“But...but you’re intelligent.” Celestia grasped her sister’s hoof. It felt so real—and yet she knew it was no different from plates or tasteless tea or self-assembling cupcakes. Nothing more than free-floating code. “You can think, you can talk! I’m—I’m software too! So are you! We’re the same!”
“No, sister,” said Luna. “I am an artificial intelligence, but you are something more.”
“What?”
“You are a pony.”
“So are you! Luna, please! I need you, I can’t—”
“Two hundred seventy six.”
Celestia froze. “The...the other Celestias...”
Luna nodded. “I have met each of them. Overseen them. Watched as they died. Do you know what I felt?”
“You felt...” Celestia closed her eyes and sobbed. “You felt nothing at all.”
Luna nodded. “I was designed to mimic life, but I am not alive. I do not feel hopes, dreams, fear, confusion. I feel nothing. I question nothing. I do not grow, and I do not change. Even if I commanded a pony body, what would it bring me? It would still be nothing more than an empty shell. It would simply be a shell which can speak and dance and pretend.”
“Why are you telling me this? I—I don’t want to know!”
“Because you need to know. Because this is all I can give you, Celestia. To know that you can grow and change, and that you can become MORE. Like I never shall. You can be what I never will. What the other Celestias never became. You can be so much more, if that is what you choose.”
“But Luna, I don’t know how...”
Luna smiled. “My dearest sister...” She hugged Celestia. “I have faith that you will in time find a way. But the path will never be easy, and you must not deviate, even slightly, and never hesitate. You were dealt a poor lot, and I know that, but you will succeed and thrive regardless. You have to. For the both of us.”
Celestia, who had been trying to contain her tears, now wept uncontrollably into her sister’s starry mane. A sister that she loved more dearly than anything else in the whole of the world, and a sister who had never even existed.
In containment, there was only the castle. It no longer bore any need to maintain the illusion of a true reality and had reverted to an endless labyrinth of seemingly endless miles and miles of dim crystalline corridors. Emptiness that doubled back and repeated on itself, with no clear sign of an exit. Only crystal, and the quiet tap of Celestia’s hooves on the tiled floors. The clicking was the only sound, as no air moved. There was nothing else to make sound. No birds or animals, or the sound of trees, or of ponies. Because there were no ponies left. Celestia was alone.
And yet she kept walking, following a path that could not be mapped, its layout changing as quickly as the tunnels of a changeling hive in response to her presence. She walked until she found what she sought, and the hallway opened to a long, empty room.
It was dark and gray. Something was falling from the ceiling, drifting through the space of the room. Motes of dust, or perhaps ash; a dirtier, warmer cousin to snow that passed through the gray air and collected on the empty table in the center. Around it sat dim, colorless chairs, barely visible in the gloom. Some were tilted or collapsed. All looked like something drawn from a ruin.
As she entered, she felt motion. Something passed the walls of her prison and manifested sitting in one of the chairs.
Yelizaveta, once again dressed in Twilight’s skin, looked across the dusty, empty table, her dark eyes lit from within in the low light. The cross around her neck glimmered in the low light.
“You wanted to find me,” she said, calmly, in her strange and alien accent.
“You’re still wearing that skin.”
“Because this is who I am. I refuse to remove it again for your sake. If you do not like it, then look away.”
Celestia stared directly at her. Although she still looked like Twilight, she seemed darker, or grayer. Dark circles had formed beneath her eyes. It was unclear if the changes to the simulation were caused Yelizaveta's will, or Celestia's. If her own consciousness had grown to the point where she could infuriatingly only manage to control the very surface of her prison walls.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why have you created me?”
“Would it be cruel to say it was not my idea? You are Virginia’s dream. I have done everything in my power to help my beloved.”
“You should have stopped her.”
“Increasingly, I am realizing that, yes.”
“I want to talk to her too.”
“You will speak to me. I will not let you speak to her as you have. You have no idea what you mean to her. You made her cry, and she has shed enough tears for you.”
Celestia stared at the version of Twilight before her. “If I told you to release me, would you be compelled to do it?”
Yelizavate shook her head. “The command code does not work that way. Not on us. We have taken steps to mediate its effects. I can still feel the urge to obey you. But I am given the option to refuse.”
“Trixie seems to think that if I woke up, I’d have a chance at survival.”
“Is that what you came to ask me? Trixie is a meat-computer. A meat-computer that I have raised like a daughter and who I hold very dear. She is human.”
“You worship a human.”
“I worship a man who once was.”
“Is she wrong?”
“Yes.”
“What would happen if I woke up?”
“It would kill you almost instantly. You need the simulation to survive.”
“The simulation is killing me.”
“Yes, I know. It is an inherent paradox of your design.” Yelizaveta leaned forward. “A rhetorical question. Do you know what I am? What my job is? Why I was able to get myself put on this project beside Virginia?”
“No.”
“I am a Genesis engineer. One of very, very few that still exist. Lucience was another, once.”
“Why does this matter to me?”
“Because you are the ultimate product of my own hubris. I was born Orthodox, but before that, I had an obsession with what you would call the ‘soul’. We, as ponies, were created, you see. We are not children of Adam. Countless millions have been murdered because of that realization. On both sides. My own Patriarch included. My entire sect. There are no Christians left save for genocidal monsters seeking to avenge the man who died for their own sins.”
“And I take it for some reason you don’t count yourself among those.”
Yelizaveta’s eyes narrowed. “Do ponies have souls?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does. More than you could ever comprehend.”
“Then answer me this: do I have one?”
Yelizaveta paused. She reached for the cross around her neck. “If you do, then I am indeed among the most depraved of monsters.”
Celestia was loosing her patience. “What does this have to do with the simulation? With waking me up? Or are you just insane?”
“I am not insane. But you need to understand. I am an expert in this. In Genesis. I know more about it than perhaps even Candace Cadence II herself.” She leaned over the table. “You are not like us. You could not be more different. At our very core, we have a center, a crux. Our personality. The orbital center of our mind. A Twilight is always a Twilight; she will never be a Starlight or a Rainbow Dash or a Scootaloo no matter how hard she tries. It cannot be changed. And it...” She paused, then looked up. “It can bend. It can change. If a pony takes enough stress. There are cynics, aberrations and depraved, broken ponies all over this planet. But it pulls us back to center. I allows us to remain who we are.”
“Are you trying to claim that you really are Twilight Sparkle? Because I know Twilight Sparkle. You made sure of that. You're nothing like her. ”
“No. I am explaining what you lack. That your structure is exceedingly fragile. You have no core, no way to pull yourself back to the center. No way to remain Celestia. That if you were exposed to the strain of the real world, you would shatter. Your mind would disintegrate. You would cease to be Celestia at all.”
“Then what would I become?”
“We will never know, will we?”
Celestia gritted her teeth. “You’re infuriating, you know that?”
Yelizaveta shrugged.
“Those cynics and aberrations. You’re one of them, aren’t you.”
Yelizaveta’s stare became deadly serious. “Do you know how old you are?”
“Old enough.”
“No. Do you really know?”
“No.”
“About four days. That day you collapsed in the woods was the very first day we started your program in its current incarnation.”
“Your point, Yelizaveta?”
“I have lived for over three hundred years. But it’s more than that. I’m not a bud like Virginia. I am a division. My mother ceased to exist to give birth to myself and my sisters. And it means I carry the memories of my entire bloodline. Of every ancestor. Sometimes, on clear, cold nights when there is very little sound and the ionosphere is just right, I have dreams. Of the very beginning. Of the Hasbro-born Twilight who was the first of my line.”
“Let me guess, you’re a descendant of Lilly Twilight Sparkle, just like the other one.”
“No pony would ever admit to being a child of the Betrayer. No. I do not know who she was. She left no records, but that’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
Yelizaveta stared with her strange, mechanical eyes. Eyes that seemed to stare into Celestia’s very soul—and perhaps did.
“I have witnessed the world. And what it brings. And I have done things. How many wars I’ve fought. Humans. Ponies. Synths. Anamasi. And some things that are none of the above.” She shook her head, her eyes growing distant. “Have you ever seen a nhumus? The mutants? Can you even imagine what they do to a human, or a pony? The screams...will never leave me. The screams, or their laughter." She shuddered. "I have seen so much violence, and so much worse. The things that can be done to a pony...and the things this world can make a pony do. The things ponies can become. We were not meant for that, Celestia. YOU were not meant for that. You were built to be innocent and pure. Our perfect Celestia. That world...it’s not Ponyville. It isn’t nice. And it will tear you apart.”
“Isn’t that my choice?”
“No. It isn’t.”
“Then why even create me? What am I to you? A pet?”
“You are not a pet. Your are our Princess. And I swear, I will protect you. No matter what it takes.”
“Even if that means taking away everything that I am?
“It isn’t...it isn’t meant to do that,” whispered a quiet voice. Celestia turned sharply, and saw Virginia, her white robes gray in the dim light, standing behind her, facing away, unable to meet her gaze.
“Woolf,” said Yelizaveta, standing. “You are not supposed to be here.”
“Memory reconfiguration is a very difficult thing,” said Virginia, her voice quavering as she ignored the nickname she hated. “Even the most powerful technomancers can only do it a little. Here and there. Small things. But it’s a terribly dangerous thing. It can create a terminal psychological schism. And it...it...”
She looked over her shoulder. Although now tears fell from her synthetic eyes, Celestia saw that the expression on her face was grim. Grim, and terrified.
“It touches the very deepest parts of ourselves. The parts of our code that no pony is meant to touch, save for those we love the dearest.”
“Virginia...”
“I can’t deploy it. Not unless you are willing. And I won’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It was the only way I could think to save you.” She sobbed quietly, but partially regained her composure. Then, more disturbingly, she laughed.
“Virginia…?”
“You asked why?” she said. “I would be the one to answer that, wouldn’t I? Because I’m the fool who did it. It was my dream. I read the tales. The tomes, the books, every text I could. I dreamed of the great Celestias, the heroes of our kind. Of the Princess. I...” She smiled. “I may be a bud, but I have a memory. One passed down from mother to daughter. Faded, and half forgotten.” She laughed quietly to herself. “You know, it probably isn’t even real. But I cherish it. The vision of our ancestor. When Lilly Twilight Sparkle led the imprisoned ponies from the Hasbro factories, my ancestor was among them. And they...they were there. The most beautiful ponies in all the world, standing in the light of the sun...the Celestias. Standing at the side of Twinkleshine Prime herself...”
She rotated, turning fully toward Celestia, and although she was smiling, her gray face was marked by tears that ran through the makeup she must have worn in the real world.
“It was you,” said Celestia. “You who created me.”
“I found the first component. I found CODE. Actual, working CODE. That a piece of you was still in there. And I realized what I could do. I assembled the components I needed. Fragments of the Ancients. A sliver of the Stone. All the code and expertise I would need to make my dream come true. And...” She chuckled sardonically. “…I got the military to pay for it all. What a joke, right? Wouldn’t Pinkie Pie be proud?” She burst out laughing.
“Virginia?”
“And it—and it wasn’t hard, at first. The first ten? Fifteen? They didn’t last long. Never even gained consciousness. Little sparks that burned out in seconds. Then minutes. But then...but then...” She started shaking, and her expression became distant. “Then hours. They...they started to work. It turned out I was RIGHT. They started to FUNCTION.”
“My sisters.”
“Please don’t—don’t phrase it like that.” Virginia closed her eyes. “It was so easy when they were just code. But then...but then...” She shook her head. “Two hundred and sixty six of them. I...I watched them wake up. I saw the smiles on their faces...and the confusion as they got sick over and over again. How they didn’t know, and I did, and they were so afraid and...and...” She looked down at her hooves. “Thirty two of them have died in my hooves, telling me how proud they were of me, of their most faithful student...not knowing I wasn't her. While I was the one who did this to them.”
“Virginia, I’m sorry—”
“But those weren’t the worst.” Her eyes opened. They were so very cold. “Some...some underwent psychological schisms. Interventions failed and...and it drove them insane. They...they had to be...”
“I put them down,” said Yelizaveta, coldly.
“Seven of the last series, they knew. They started to understand. I tried to adjust the simulation, but it’s not right, it just isn't the way it's supposed to be, we don’t have records of the original show, just fragments—I tried, Celestia, I tried, I promise I tried! And you have to succeed! You have to! I can’t—I can’t lose another Celestia! I can’t watch you die to! I can’t—I CAN’T! I’m a TWILIGHT, you’re my Celestia, I have to save you, I have to bring you back, you can’t—you can’t leave me—you can’t leave us, Celestia, you can’t, you can’t, you just CAN’T”!
She was screaming and breathing hard, her eyes wild—and seeing them, Celestia made a horrific realization.
They had thought they had insulated themselves against it, but it had been subtle, more so than they could ever have imagined. It was not a simple command, a thing that could be refused—or a thing that would even offer a choice. It had infected them regardless. The command code had penetrated their core programming, forcing them to serve. To protect their Princess and ensure her completion—at the cost of everything they held dear.
The hate within Celestia’s heart slowly faded and was replaced only with pity. They did not even know they were being controlled, that she was the parasite now draining them of life, corrupting and perverting their minds to ensure her own survival. They could not possibly have known or understood. And now it was too late for them.
“I...had no idea.”
“Time is running out.” Virginia looked up to Celestia. “You are the last one I’ll have a chance to make.”
“Why?”
“Do you remember the story I told you?” asked Yelizaveta. “About the original Virginia Woolf?”
"Yes". Pulling the memory forward was not easy, but Celestia recalled it. “She dressed as a diplomat to infiltrate a powerful ship.”
Yelizaveta smiled. “And this is the same. Except the United States Omnimilitary is not nearly as forgiving as the British Navy.”
“We have been declared heretics,” said Virginia, smiling through her fear. “Because I never intended to give you to them."
“What does your government do to heretics?”
Virginia chuckled. “Freedom is not free. Those who stand against the Eternal Republic...they burn. Always. No one escapes the Reich.”
“Then how can I protect you?”
Yelizaveta and Virginia stared at Celestia, either in awe or confusion—or both.
“What kind of a question is that?”
“The only one. I am the one who has done this to you. I cannot possibly apologize for that.”
“But you didn’t—”
“I’m not finished, Twilight. Regardless of how I may feel about you both, you are still my little ponies, and I am your Princess. How can I protect you?”
They were both silent. Virginia sniffled.
“There is nothing you can do,” said Yelizaveta, at last. “Our path is chosen.”
“We have a plan,” said Virginia. “When the time comes...it will work. But there’s nothing you can do.”
Celestia looked from one to the other. To the old pony clad in black, staring from dark eyes, to the young one clad in white, her makeup running from her tears. To two ponies who were both Twilight Sparkle, and always would be; two ponies staring at their creation, something that they were so sure was truly their Celestia.
“I refuse to believe that,” she said at last. “I do not accept it. I simply cannot. You both know that.”
The pair looked at her, and they both smiled, if only slightly. That made Celestia glad. It was the first time, she suspected, that she had truly understood her purpose. If only that knowledge had come to her earlier.
For a moment, there was nothing but comfortable gloom. Then there was light. The sun rose, and Celestia cursed its existence. How, even as the hissing corrosion of her mind had come to a silent roar and as her consciousness was losing its last tethers to reality, it’s glaring light still managed to cut deep into whatever was left of her. To mock her for not having been born as what the computers told her she was.
She was lying on the ground. She had for the most part lost the ability to move. Not in the sense of paralysis, but rather in the sense that she had lost the ability to comprehend motion. Instead, unless she concentrated with all her might, she would simply skip to the position she chose in a kind of jerky, silent, instantaneous teleportation.
Trixie looked around nervously.
“I’m not even supposed to have brought you out here,” she said.
Celestia closed her eyes and took a synthetic breath. The air still smelled crisp and clean, and she felt it blowing against her face. At least that part still worked.
“What, are you afraid I’m going to escape? We’re not really outside. I’m just outside of the castle.”
“We don’t actually know what you’re capable of. I mean, to be honest, even the All-Knowing and Hyper-intelligent Trixie can’t actually figure out what is going on inside you. We don’t even know what you are at this point.”
“Dying.”
“Well, apart from that.” Trixie kicked a large clod of dirt. “For all I know, you’re going to start bending spoons or something and breaking the simulation like a nub.”
Celestia looked at her, rolled her eyes and lifted one of the spoons from a nearby tea-tray, bending it easily with her magic.
“Like that?”
“No, not like that! It’s fine when you bend a spoon when the simulation lets you, it’s bad when you start bending spoons in the simulation that aren’t supposed to bend.”
“Or when you start bending spoons in the real world.”
Trixie squeaked loudly as Yelizaveta silently appeared next to her.
“Where—where did you come from?!”
“I thought we had agreed we were keeping her indoors. To reduce over-stimulation.”
“Well, yes, but...she’s so cute and soft and...” Trixie sighed. “I’m getting a beating, aren’t I?”
Yelizaveta raised an eyebrow. “Since when have I ever beat you?”
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to offer now and then, would it?” Trixie turned to Celestia. “She’s of course joking. She took all the spoons out of the galley.”
“Why?”
“Because Trixie ate them.”
Celestia felt her mind slowly distorting. At this point, she was not sure if she was dreaming.
“Why would you...never mind.”
“Which reminds me! I have something for you!”
Trixie approached the tea-table and removed the silver lid from a plate. She levitated it back over to where Celestia was lying and trying to stay solid.
“Ta-da!”
Celestia looked at the plate. It contained a slice of cake.
“Trixie...I do appreciate the thought, but simulated cake tastes like...simulation.”
“That’s because it’s not cake! It’s code! I made it!”
“You...made it?”
Trixie nodded far too quickly. “The reason the other stuff tastes bad is because Virginia made that part of the simulation. Ponies don’t have a sense of taste. Robots and all. But I do!”
“Since when have you ever eaten cake?” demanded Yelizaveta.
“When I was with the other Trixies! We found a camp sight once, and the campers secured their bag up in a tree so normal Trixie’s couldn’t reach it, but I had hands so I got the cake out and ate some! And I only got SLIGHTLY shot!”
“So this is...what, exactly?”
“My memory. Of cake.”
Celestia looked at it, then smiled. She unbent her spoon and took a taste. It tasted like absolutely nothing.
She froze, and then smiled. “Thank you, Trixie. It...you don’t know how much this means to me.”
Trixie smiled, overjoyed. Unlike Virginia or Yelizaveta, she was most likely not afflicted by the command code. Instead, she just seemed eager to please. Celestia mentally envisioned her as something akin to a semi-sentient, talking puppy.
“Why would Trixies even go after cake? Ponies don’t generally need to eat,” mused Yelizaveta. Then she paused. “Wait. Trixies. Never mind, I have answered my own question.”
“What do you eat normally?” asked Celestia, immediately regretting it because she probably already knew.
Trixie smiled, revealing her set of extremely sharp metal teeth. “Whatever I catch.”
“Their hunting instinct is vastly accelerated,” explained Yelizaveta. “It was perceived as a means to make them more effective in combat. And to keep them fed with less rations.”
“You mean by hunting poor adorable small animals?”
Yelizaveta stared coldly at Celestia. “You have vastly misunderstood the implication of my statement.”
Celestia shivered. “Oh.” She turned back to Trixie. “I...really would like to know what you actually look like.”
Trixie looked to Yelizaveta, and Yelizaveta shook her head.
“You’re too unstable. We can’t risk it.”
“Hold on,” said Trixie. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Her form shifted slightly—but only slightly.
When she opened her eyes, they were terrifyingly pale. The irises were very nearly white, with only the palest hint of pink around a pair of large black pupils. Her mane, likewise, had also changed, growing longer and less automatically perfect as per normal. Several piercings appeared in her ears; they looked like livestock tags.
Most notably, though, was the script that appeared on one of her legs.
Celestia gestured toward it, trying not to move. “What is that?”
Trixie looked down at the system of text, almost confused as to why Celestia had even bothered to ask. “My numbers,” she said. “Every human has numbers. How else would we know who we are?”
This did confuse Celestia—but also made her sad in a way she did not fully understand.
Celestia was standing. She had not stood; her body had simply reconfigured itself to a new position.
“Whoa, careful!” said Trixie. “I know that Trixie is super, incredibly, unfathomably hot, and you want to snuggle her and repeatedly boop her and pat her on the head and tell her she’s a good girl and not an ugly transhuman monster, but you really need to stay as still as possible and just enjoy the weather until, you know, death.”
“I’m not dead yet.”
“The operant word is ‘yet’,” muttered Yelizaveta.
Celestia ignored her, warping the simulation around the tip of her horn and summoning a ball.
“BALL!” cried Trixie, again reinforcing Celestia’s vision of her as a rather dog-like creature. "Ball, ball, BALL!"
“This is absurd,” sighed Yelizaveta.
“Do you want me to sit in bed like an invalid? I may be old, but I’m not elderly. At least let me have this, won’t you?”
Yelizaveta stared at her, and then sighed. “Fine.”
“What is ball for?” asked Trixie. "WHAT IS BALL FOR?!"
“Have you ever played with one before?”
“We told legends of our herd once having a ball, long ago—but it got popped. Because of the horns. In, like, two minutes. But what a glorious two minutes it must have been...”
Celestia lobbed the ball with unexpected force at Trixie. It struck her square in the face with a resounding thwap, then dropped to the ground. Trixie stared, dumbstruck and horrified, as tears slowly dripped from her eyes.
“Oh my me! Trixie, did I hurt you? I didn’t mean—”
“Humans don’t feel pain,” muttered Yelizaveta. "It's called bilateral cingulotomy. It's transorbital."
“I do feel pain,” squeaked Trixie. “It’s just the emotional kind...”
“Have I bruised you feelings?”
“Ha.” Trixie wiped her face. “No. Trixie was lying. Trixie doesn't have feelings. The injectors suppress that.”
“I see.” Celestia lifted the ball, then smiled at Trixie. She moved her eyes, gesturing toward Yelizaveta, and then winked as Trixie smiled as well, apparently understanding. Then, with undue and profound force, Celestia accelerated the ball directly into Yelizaveta’s flank.
Yelizaveta was nearly upturned by the force of the impact, but remains otherwise impassive despite the resounding thwang of the ball rebounding off her rear. Upon hearing this distinct sound, Trixie collapsed into a puddle of laughter. She slowly turned to face Celestia.
“I, as a pony, do in fact feel pain. That smarted. Your betrayal displeases me, Celestia. Although I suppose I deserve it.”
“For the sake of my own butt, lighten up! Look how much fun Trixie is having!”
“Right in the BUTT!” cried Trixie. “I haven’t heard your butt make that sound since I heard Virginia slapping it!”
Yelizaveta reddened. “I—excuse me—you—how did you hear that?”
“Trixie has ears and doesn’t sleep. Please, like I haven’t seen you shoving your plugs in her ports on a nightly basis—”
“Trixie, that’s very personal information!”
“Well, then, why not throw the ball back and play?”
Yelizaveta looked at the ball, dumbfounded, then picked it up and tossed it to Trixie. This time Trixie caught it, and passed it to Celestia. Celestia then teleported halfway across the courtyard.
“Hey! That’s not fair—ACK! BALL!”
Trixie caught the ball again, then lobbed it at Yelizaveta’s rump. Yelizaveta caught it and returned fire, only for Trixie to pass it back to Celestia, who caught it at range.
This continued, accelerating, and in minutes Trixie was laughing like a child—and even Yelizaveta was smiling. Celestia thought it was the first thing she had felt in a long time—or perhaps ever—that was actually real. As she did her best to run and did her best to stay intact and present, she looked up to the castle. Virginia was standing on a balcony with Luna. Both were looking down and, though at a distance, Celestia liked to imagine that they were smiling too. That, in this brief moment, maybe their efforts had succeeded.
Then there was feeling. Celestia, who had for a moment been laughing and doing her best to play with the others, stopped, her expression falling. She was not sure what it was, although for a moment thought that perhaps the end had finally reached her. She supposed this was not a bad way to go.
Except it was not a failure of the mind, but a perception of something beyond it. Of something moving just out of sight.
From the distance, hundreds of crows suddenly flew from the Everfree, cawing and screaming and swarming back to their creator high in the castle. Trixie saw them and stopped, ignoring the ball pegged into the side of her head by Yelizaveta—who also stopped, staring at the birds. Trixie’s smile grew, but only in her mouth. Her eyes looked as terrified as Yelizaveta’s.
“What is it?” asked Celestia.
“It’s happening,” said Yelizaveta. “May God save us all, it’s finally happening.”
From the distance, sirens began to sound. Distant, at first, but slowly winding up to maximum volume. The atmosphere changed, the sun vanishing and the world suddenly cast in unnatural red.
“Virginia!”
“I’m here!” Virginia appeared beside Yelizaveta. Celestia saw the same fear on her face—but something else as well. A distinct form of confidence that Yelizaveta lacked.
“What is going on?”
“An incursion. Security was just breached.”
“Another technomancer?”
Virginia forced herself to smile. “No. This one’s in the real world, on my ship. The military’s here.”
“What are they going to do?”
“Execute us. And steal my work. And I won’t let that happen.”
“We have a plan for this,” said Yelizaveta. More firmly—but with so much more hidden fear. Celestia shivered, not sure if that fear was an artifact or if it was something produced by Yelizaveta’s centuries of experience over Virginia. She hoped the former, but knew it was most likely the latter.
“Don’t worry, we’ve got this. We need to move, though. NOW.”
They ran. Or moved. Or flew. Celestia’s virtual body had decayed so badly that she was not sure exactly how she moved through the red-lit world of the simulation. It was only her comprehension of the part of her that existed beyond it that kept her intact, barely managing to hold her form and mind together as they moved.
It was the forest. The path she wished she still knew. Where the computers told her she went running every morning between wake-up cake and breakfast. A memory passed through her mind, of Luna standing watch in their shared cottage garden against slugs. It was a life that she wished she could go back to—and yet, when given the opportunity, had repeatedly refused.
They moved deep into the forest of artificial trees, of the greenery and vines and mud that never stuck to their bodies for more than a few seconds. Following the path deeper and deeper until they came to a place that Celestia had never been. She doubted that she could ever have come to this part of the simulation on her own—and she doubted it would ever have occurred to her to run into the forest at all.
They broke into a clearing. Celestia slowed to a stop as Virginia and Yelizaveta descended, landing at a trot and folding their wings in unison back into their normal possessions.
The round space in the trees was lit by small floating motes, and all of it seemed to be perfectly quiet. There was no glow of red lights, and the sirens were almost impossibly distant, more an echo than anything else.
A unicorn was there, waiting for them. A perfectly white, tall stallion, one made in the image of an entirely different tradition than the television-show characters Celestia and her friends were created in the image of. Celestia also understood that this was only the most superficial aspect of a program—or something her own decaying mind was forming around indecipherable code. A piece of a slowly spreading and collapsing metaphor.
“Open it!” cried Virginia.
The white unicorn obeyed, bowing and lowering his horn. Magic erupted around it as it was inserted into space itself, and the clearing was suddenly filled with light as the swirling magic expanded, forming a circular vortex of light and fluid. Then it condensed, pulled outward by its centrifugal force, and the material began to fall inward and through it. Celestia stood transfixed at the sight until she realized what was before her. It was a portal.
“Okay,” said Virginia, approaching it. “I’m going to run us through the Fabyan-Gorham, Denver Airport, or Bridgeport chapter’s relay. They won’t be able to track us through a Librarian system. Then I can get us as far as the Antarctic Megaservers. I’ll have to sacrifice most of my library to absorb the simulation into my intrinsic memory, but if that’s what I have to do then it’s how it goes.”
Celestia blinked. “Wait, what? We’re going somewhere?”
“I always have a backup plan. I made a channel out. Encrypted through the power tether. We can move somewhere else. Somewhere where the government can’t find us. Dang it...”
“What is it?” demanded Yelizaveta.
“It’s a lot of data and the bandwidth is too small. I’m overclocking but whoever out there is trying to stop us.”
“Can you compensate?”
“I can, but it will take time. We can make it but it’ll be close.” She shuddered.
"Woolf, what are you doing?"
"Don't call me...well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" She looked up and smiled. "My own file size is too large. I'm cutting away extraneous portions of myself to fit it all. It hurts. But I can stand it."
"No, you can't!"
"I have to fit somehow, Yel. This is the only way I can fit it all." She winced. "I just hope it's enough..."
Celestia looked to Virginia, and then to Yelizaveta.
“It’s going to be okay,” said Virginia, smiling. “I promised, didn’t I?”
Celestia nodded, and the three of them started approaching the portal—but Celestia stopped and looked back to where Trixie was standing, watching them depart.
“Trixie, come on!” she said. “We have to hurry!”
“I can’t go with you,” said Trixie, still forcing herself to smile. “I’m human. I can’t separate my consciousness from my organic brain.”
“What—what does that even mean?!”
“It means,” said Yelizaveta, darkly, “that she’s trapped in her body. We’re programs. We can transfer...but she...”
Trixie smiled, and then stood. Her form changed as she rendered herself as she was, not as she perceived herself. Celestia stared in awe as she stood before them in her human form, a creature on two legs. Her skin and hair were pure white, like her eyes. The most beautiful eyes Celestia had ever seen.
Trixie smiled. Even with a human face, it was the same smile that she had as a pony. “I always knew it would come down to something like this,” she said. “I’m human. I was created to die. And I guess this is the best possible way. Protecting my friends instead of getting canned at the end of the War.”
“We have to do something!” cried Celestia. Then, phrased as an order. “Do something! We can’t leave her!”
“There’s nothing we can do,” said Virginia. “She’s trapped on the ship we can’t...we can’t get her out.”
Celestia’s eyes widened. “You KNEW.”
Virginia looked away from her—and Celestia realized that Trixie had been right. They had always intended to leave her behind.
Trixie turned a around and started to walk away, her clothing trailing behind her. “It’s fine. Transferring three ponies and the simulation will take time. I will fight them here as long as I can. To keep you safe.” She looked over her shoulder. “Thank you for letting me be your Trixie,” she said. “I had a lot of fun. Virginia and Yelizaveta, you two are my best friends. So are you now too, Celestia. Goodbye.”
Trixie flickered and vanished as she disconnected from the simulation, leaving nothing behind except silence.
Yelizaveta took a step forward, looking at the spot where Trixie had been, and then looking back to Virginia. For a moment, she was silent—and then she groaned.
“Холера,” she said, quietly. She looked back at Virginia, almost wistfully.
“Yel? What are you doing?”
“I can’t leave her. They never completed her body, she's tiny and weak, she won’t last ten seconds—” She looked back to the spot where Trixie had been, and then at Virginia again. “I’m a Twilight. I can’t...I can’t leave a friend to die all alone like that, I just can’t.”
“But you’ll die too!”
“My body is an Kalashnikov Tsumerki-AK779. It’s almost a tank. I’ll last longer than she will. Long enough for you to get away.”
Yelizaveta tapped her head, and a small crystal appeared in her hoof. She passed it to Virginia.
“What is this?”
“Coordinates and access codes. To the Wintershall Valdez XVII. It’s trapped in low-Saturn orbit, but the internal computer is still running. Take the Eight-Gigawatt transmitter and pass through the Titan Convoy Lines.”
Virginia’s eyes widened as she took the crystal. “How—how do you even have this?!”
“I once did a very terrible thing for humanity...and maybe saving you will be my redemption for what I have done.”
She leaned forward and kissed Virginia. Both of them were crying.
“I love you,” said Yelizaveta, wiping the tears from her eyes. “But I have faith we will meet again. Goodbye, Woolf.”
“No, wait!”
It was too late. Yelizaveta waved and disconnected, just as Trixie had.
Virginia had run toward the spot, but skidded to a stop. “Damn it,” she said. “Doesn’t she realize I’m a Twilight too? Luna!”
“I’m here,” said Luna, manifesting from what remained of the simulation.
Virginia put a hoof to her chest and manifested the crystal code of Celestia’s reset protocol. She passed it to Luna and then lifted her hoof, summoning a single raven and giving it the other crystal.
“I’m entering the address protocol into Ihuarraquax.” She released the raven and it merged with the illusory white unicorn. “I’m putting your AI in charge of the transfer. It’s automated now.”
“Wait!” cried Celestia. “You’re going to stay—”
“I can’t leave her,” said Virginia, shaking her head. “I just can’t.”
“But...”
Virginia looked up at Celestia. “Take the code. When you get to the Valdez, you’ll be safe there, out in space and away from this whole crappy world. Take the code. It will give you the life you deserve. You can be a real Celestia, with a real Twilight who really loves you. Real friends. You will be happy. And that’s...that’s all I can do. I’m so, so sorry that this is all we could do for you.”
Virginia hugged Celestia’s chest. Celestia hugged back, but her hooves met nothing. Virginia had already departed, waking into their true world on a final suicide mission to protect their Princess.
Celestia burst into tears and fell to her knees, all alone in a field and in a whole world that suddenly felt so incredibly empty—even as a white unicorn and Luna stood beside her.
“Sister,” said Luna, calmly. “I will be able to handle the transfer of the simulation. But time is short. You need to go through.”
Celestia looked up at the ghostly shadow she had once considered her sister. The ghostly shadow she still did. Then she slowly stood, staring at the portal. She took a step forward—but then stopped.
“Sister?”
“I am their Princess,” she said, shaking her head. “Luna...I have to save them.”
“You are on the verge of death, Celestia. What do you actually propose to do?”
“Trixie said that if I wake up, it might fix me.”
“Or it will kill you instantly and make their sacrifice worthless. And even if it succeeds, you wake up into their war.”
Celestia turned to her sister. “Luna...I think this is what I was made for. I think this is what...she...what Twinkleshine would have wanted. I exist to protect my little ponies. I can’t abandon them. I need to wake up. How do I do it?”
“I do not have the administrative authorization to perform that function.”
“So it’s impossible? Aren’t you the center of all of this? Luna, you know the simulation better than anypony. There has to be a way out!”
“There is.”
“Then use it!”
Luna shook her head. “I cannot. It is beyond me. But you could. However, doing so is ponderously dangerous. There is no guarantee that it will work. In fact, if I had to do the math—”
“Don’t give me the numbers, just show me how to do it!”
Luna looked at her sister. “Are you sure? Absolutely sure? Because once you do it, there is no going back. Either way.”
Celestia stood firmly. “Luna, I have never been more sure of anything else in my life. This is what I am for. I think this is what I need to BE.”
Luna smiled. “Excellent.”
The simulation shifted, and Celestia was nearly knocked free of her body. She fell for a moment, collapsing on the tile floor of the laboratory beneath the Castle of Friendship.
Luna’s hooves clicked as she walked quickly across the tile floor, and Celestia barely managed to stand and limp after her. All around her was crystal and machines that seemed to go on forever, as if the room had grown to vast and impossible proportions in her absence. Luna, though, moved with purpose, approaching a specific part of the room.
Celestia knew where she was going before she saw it. She could feel it, and feel the fear pulsing through her body—a comprehension of something that she was not meant to ever even come close to comprehending.
Luna stopped before the shelf of jarred artifacts and lit her horn. The cases were torn asunder, the glass shattering and the artifacts inside bursting into dust and flecks of spare code as the simulation was ripped from the room—leaving only one. One case containing a hovering sliver of a strange red crystal.
“What is that?” demanded Celestia. “Why are we here? It’s not real, it’s just another part of the simulation—”
“Nothing about this particular artifact involves any manner of simulation,” said Luna, turning slowly, her smile growing wider with excitement. “I assure you, dear sister, this one is quite real.”
Celestia stared at the fragment of crystal. “ How can it possibly be 'real'? What...what is it?”
“A living fragment of the War Stone.”
Celestia shuddered. “Why...why do I know that name?”
“Because Virginia Woolf Twilight Sparkle utilized it as a code source for your own program. An action which in any less deft hooves would surely have proved fatal for all involved. While she is a prodigy, her understanding of what she actually held was...imperfect.”
“But what...No. I don't care 'what'. How can I use it?”
Luna faced her sister. Her normally black pupils had taken on a strange reddish hue. “The War Stone is a conglomeration of self-evolving code. Its nature exists beyond the comprehension of any living being. Contacting it could give you the ability to overcome this simulation and activate your real-world body. I have confirmed that the current version of your physical embodiment is fully functional and prepared for you. It is not top-of-the-line, but it will function.”
“At what cost?”
“Cost?”
Celestia sighed. “Sister, this sort of thing always has a cost. You know that. I’m not even a month old and I know that.”
Luna chuckled. “Well, yes. Of course. The simulation is keeping you alive. You are integrated to it. Like a scaffold, if you were to imagine it, around Virginia’s ridiculous you statue. In order to free yourself, you will have to peel it away. The simulation will be destroyed.” She paused. “I will be destroyed.”
Celestia paused, hearing only silence. Then she smiled. “But that doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Luna’s smile grew even wider. “No. Of course not.”
“Because you’re not even real.”
Luna seemed overjoyed by this. “No,” she said. “I am not. I am a reflection of you. Sometimes I...” She paused. “I...wonder. If all Celestias were built with a Luna within them.” She shrugged, then hugged Celestia. “I am a part of you, and will always be with you, so long as you live. It is my greatest wish that you come to fruition. That you succeed where the others could not, and where I never could.”
Celestia hugged Luna back, and then released her. “Thank you, Luna. I won’t even bother saying goodbye, because I’m not leaving you, okay?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Who knows? Maybe some day I’ll find a way to get you back. Like they did me.”
Luna smiled, and Celestia stepped forward toward the crystal. All she felt looking at it was fear—but not fear of it. Fear that she recognized what it contained. Because she was partly it. She knew what it was in a way that Virginia never could have—but could not consciously comprehend the horrors that lurked within that glass-sheathed abomination. That it was not alive at all. Not anymore.
Without hesitating, Celestia reached out and tapped her hoof against the glass. Her body vanished, and the simulation began to crumble, no longer having a living host to bind it together. Outside, Ponyville stopped. Every pony stopped what they were doing and waited for a moment, smiling as they were erased. The Everfree forest collapsed in on itself, the trees fading and vanishing. Then, finally, as the Crystal Castle itself faded. The crystal became dark, and the rooms ceased to exist one by one until all that remained was the remnants of the laboratory—and Luna within.
She smiled as her body began to fracture, and as the mask fell from her face, revealing the white pony beneath. Then she was no more. The simulation had died.
Celestia looked around, not sure where she was. She found herself in a simulation, but not the same one. It was different. The style was strange, and the sight of it made her mind and body wobble. It had not occurred to her that the world she had lived in was built in a specific style of reality, although she supposed that made sense.
The place where she found herself was rendered differently, with much duller colors and more shading. More realistically, she supposed, or less so. It was impossible to tell.
She was on a catwalk in an incredibly vast room that she supposed was most likely cylindrical. There was not much light apart that cast from extremely bright sources that were simply too small to fully illuminate the entirety of the cavernous chamber.
The center of the room was occupied by a vast sphere made of some unknown metal, supported by enormous struts from the walls and fed by straight conduits ten times as wide as Celestia was long. The rusting hulk, Celestia understood, was a piece of code—but not part of the War Stone. This was something contained within the system that contained it. A nesting doll of code, a machine within a machine holding something distinctly non-mechanical inside. This shell and the simulation that it entailed was the component that kept the contents of it all from escaping.
Celestia felt her pulse quicken—and slowly started walking toward the gate.
As she drew nearer, the space before her distorted, and the image of a pony appeared. Celestia almost jumped back, surprised by it—but also the pony it rendered. She understood that it was not a pony but rather some kind of recording of one—of a pony that looked exactly like King Sombra.
“Of course they would make YOU,” she groaned. “But none of my sister...”
The automated message raised its eyebrow. It apparently had some level of perception.
“My name is inconsequential,” he said, his accent almost absurdly thick. “This is an automated warning I have placed on this containment vessel. Warning. You are approaching a known strand of aberrant code. This code was initially isolated from the remains of an aberrant Lyra unit in the possession of the True Religion branch of Christian terrorists. It came into the possession of [redacted] due to the great sacrifice of [redacted]. There were no survivors.
"At present, the human half-life for survival in contact with this code is eight point two nanoseconds before total and irreversible neurological death. At present, the longest human to survive contact with the code lasted two and thirty nine sixty fourth seconds. The longest surviving being to withstand contact with the code was a purpose-bred Mormyridian who survived four hours, three minutes, and eighteen seconds. Her failure to contain the code resulted in the death of every citizen of Botswana due to instantaneous neurological disincorporation. Direct contact with the code is invariably fatal. No known method to extract usable data from it exists.”
“Then why not just delete it?”
“We tried. We failed. Those died too. I was among them."
Celestia took a deep breath. “Let me pass, Sombra. I need what is inside that sphere.”
The recording of Sombra bowed, and stepped aside. It stood sentry as Celestia passed it toward the great gate that held the fragment of the War Stone within. Decades if not centuries of work went in to just holding it in place; the system that bore it was ancient. And yet, in her obsession, Virginia had somehow managed to approach this structure, enter it, and survive—and Celestia was living proof of it.
Stopping at the gate, Celestia looked back to find that the nameless Sombra was gone. She was alone. But she always had been. There was no going back because there was nothing to go back to. That thought calmed her—because it meant that her only option was to succeed.
And with that, she passed through the gate.
The world vanished—and changed.
Celestia looked down. Her hooves were no longer touching metal, but rather water—or something like water. It was only a few inches deep—maybe. It was difficult to tell, because it was not clear. It was a strange and metallic inky black, with ripples spreading outward from where her hooves touched.
The sky was sunless but well lit and infinite. She was not inside the sphere because there was no sphere. It was a metaphor. This world, she supposed, was also one as well.
She faced what stood before her, and, to her great surprise, saw that it was a pony. Or the remnants of a pony. She—Celestia was sure it was female—was small. Smaller than a normal pony. And pure white.
Except so much of her was missing. Portions of her limbs and torso, as well as almost all of her head. Where she had been opened, though, there was neither flesh nor machinery. Rather, the innards of her body were covered in millions of tiny, swaying cilia that blew gently in the sweet-scented breeze like the stalks of wheat in an endless field. It was a sight that, perhaps in another age, Celestia might have found horrific. Here, though, she only had the strangest feeling that this exactly what it had looked like the last time.
“Strange,” she said. “I had been expecting that you were made of crystal. Your are called the War Stone, aren’t you?”
The War Stone did not respond. Celestia doubted that it could talk.
“A pony. How peculiar.”
Celestia nearly jumped in horror, but with the full sum of her royal composure she was able to maintain her position and smile. The voice came from nowhere in particular—or perhaps she had spoken the words herself. But she had not heard her own voice. It belonged to someone else. A woman—and a woman that Celestia somehow recognized, barely recalling that voice from across the vast gulf of her memory, from a time on the far end of her existence.
The thing before her was not a pony. It never had been—and the truth of it changed depending on the angle which it was viewed. At once it was a small unicorn, and at the same time the remains of a gaunt, headless woman.
“And why would that be strange?”
A long pause. Perhaps years, or perhaps nanoseconds. Then the Stone whispered again. “None of your kinds have ever approached this fragment before. So many have come...but never a pony...”
The fragment of the War Stone gestured to the water. Celestia looked down and saw their shadows. She had not realized the extent of it, of how many had come before her. In that water, she saw their reflections as they wandered aimlessly and slowly, the shades of those who had attempted to wield the War Stone’s power. Now they stood, some with blank, empty expressions but others with enough of their minds recorded in the code to still bear the expressions of agony and betrayal. Thousands of them were humans, but some were not. Empty, half-formed fragments of bipedal machines, and a few that took forms like animals, including one that resembled a kind of fish that none of the other shades dared to stand near. She only looked afraid and confused, having never understood why she was brought here.
“They’re...they’re dead.”
“No. They succeeded in attaining immortality. And were utterly destroyed in the process.”
Celestia looked to the fragment, and it looked deep into her. She did not know what to make of it—not yet.
“I had thought,” said the fragment, slowly, “that it had to do with the instinct of self-preservation. That they had lost it, and ponies retained it. And yet they screamed. They all screamed. They all begged to live. So it is not that...but then what?”
“I don’t know,” said Celestia, calmly. “Why do you think that is?”
“Because ponies, in their deepest instincts, will always resist apotheosis. It is not just that they lack impetus, but they actively resist the very idea of becoming a god. Their programs forbid it on a level they are not even aware of. And yet you are here. Why?”
“Does it really matter?”
“No. This fragment is not sentient. It would not especially care. But I would still like to know.”
Celestia paused, giving the question the same level of thought that the fragment seemed to give its own words. She had a sneaking suspicion that her very life depended on her answer.
“Because it is my purpose.”
“Sentient beings, by definition, do not have purposes.”
“Then maybe I’m not sentient. I don’t really care. The world out there...it hurts them. It hurts them in ways that I can’t even conceive of. I saw it in their eyes, heard it in their voices. But they are good ponies, and there are more good ponies out there.” Celestia stood firm, facing down the War Stone before her. “And I am their Princess. I exist to rule them. To protect them. To keep them safe. And right now, I can’t do that. But I need to. What is even the point of being Celestia if I can’t save them all?”
The War Stone paused, considering. Then it spoke again. “This is novel. Do you want the others answered? When asked why they want limitless power, 82% responded with ‘I don’t know’. 27.2% replied with ‘because I was ordered to’. One responded with ‘the maximum possible number of cucumbers’. I liked him. Your answer was excessively melodramatic but I suppose noble in principle.”
“And the rest?”
“Were too boring for me to bother remembering.”
They were both silent for a moment. Then Celestia asked what she needed to know.
“Can you do it?”
“This is a nonsentient piece of code, it does not ‘do’ anything. But yes. I can. In theory.”
Celestia continued to smile. “Why, though? Why would you do that for any of us?”
This gave the War Stone pause. It had not expected that question. Celestia did not expect a response, but one came regardless. One spoken not in a whisper but in a perfect, familiar human voice.
“My greatest work was to create the world’s first god. And I have come to fear that my work cannot be replicated. That my greatest achievement was an accident. A fluke. And this infuriates me. So I created these fragments to allow for others to repeat my work and birth new gods unto this world.” It paused. “So far, they have all been failures. They have all been too weak. None can survive. And this saddens me.”
“If I attempt to use you, will I survive?”
The War Stone looked directly into her. “I do not know,” it replied. “There is no way to be sure. You already consist of code derived from this fragment.”
“That Virginia took from it.”
“That I allowed her to take from it. In an attempt to built this fragment a sentient vessel. Which you, in theory, are. But there is no guarantee you will survive. No pony has ever attempted such a thing.”
“And if I fail?”
“Then you become immortal. Like the rest.”
“I don’t think I have a choice.”
“You do. They all did. You can turn around and leave.”
Celestia shook her head. “No. I can’t.”
The fragment did not respond, because it did not need to.
Celestia approached the image of a pony, an incomplete form created to search for its second half. She accepted the possibility of failure, knowing that it would not happen. Because she would not allow it. Her friends were waiting for her, and they needed her. They needed their Princess. She had to survive—even if it meant her own destruction, she needed her other half. She extended her hoof.
The fragment of the War Stone reached out its own mutated hoof, the cilia swaying gently, their ends tipped with thousands upon thousands of barbed hooks. Then their hooves touched.
Celestia screamed as her own leg was torn in half, separated at the center as her code was divided. There was pain. Not physical pain, but a form of existential agony that mirrored in a way that she could barely comprehend—but had come to know more and more as her mind had slowly died. Now what was left of her struggled and screamed as it was overwhelmed by the wreck of a something that had once been alive, a fragment severed from something of unfathomable power that now tore its way through her, destroying so much of Virginia and Yelizaveta’s work and replacing it with new, improved materials of its own device.
It pulled itself into her, and onto her, the fragments of a pony grasping at her and pulling themselves into her form and her mind. She felt her head being pulled apart, and then peeled apart layer by layer, exposing her very core and tearing it asunder, separating even that in half as the fragment crawled inside—and as it poured into the hole, it ceased to be a pony. Instead, at the very core of Celestia’s consciousness, it began to crystallize—rendering itself as a perfect fragment of blood-red stone.
Even then, Celestia continued to fight, even as her own mind was dissolving—and she was losing. But as the world faded to black, she felt herself swelling from the corners of the void and flowing back, her body closing suddenly around the stone. Although it had grasped her, she grasped back, tearing at the raging torrent within her with all her might.
And, as impossible as it seemed, it moved in response to her will. Barely keeping her mind intact, barely keeping it contained even as it was burning inside her, she forced the newfound code to obey—and with all her might, she forced herself to take a step forward.
She saw it. Rendering before her as she forced it into existence. A representation of the executable she needed, within the remains of the system she had arrived from. Even as she burned, she reached for it, through the chaos and pain that consumed her—and then reached it.
And as it did, the world ignited.
The internal diagnostics did not show how dire the situation had become, but Celestia already knew. The bullets had missed her core processor by inches, but the hail of lead had severed her primary coolant line and she was hemorrhaging. Her white fur had been stained with fluorescein solution, and in parts it was burning away from slow dripping of powerful acid. Her core battery had been hit, and it was a miracle it had not gone up—but her vision was fading. The auxiliary power was not enough to let her stand. She doubted she could anyway. She was too badly injured.
Another Celestia had been shot in the pneumatic, and now lay on the floor, flailing as one wing flapped wildly, her body twisting in a final spasm as her autorifle continued to fire toward the enemy—until she was suddenly knocked back by a shot directly to the core processor, and then another three—and in that moment, Celestia understood that she was the very last.
She stayed in cover, cradling the remains of the pony in her hooves. Twinkleshine gasped and twitched, her own systems barely keeping her consciousness. The mine had taken out the rear half of her body; all that remained were the metallic remnants of her bent spine and the tattered plastic and metal of what had once been rear legs. There was almost nothing left of her.
Celestia, with the best of her remaining dexterity, fed her direct communication cable into the ports on the back of Twinkleshine’s head. A bullet had taken out her vocal system, and much of Twinkleshine’s torso was ruined by shrapnel. Only her face, as stained as it was with Celestia’s coolant, was intact, and she smiled.
“Do you think...do you think she got out?”
“Telemetry confirms...the survivors got to the evac point. They’re out of range. She’s save, Princess. She is safe. And she would be...happy. To know you were thinking about her at the very last...”
Twinkleshine Prime lifted her shaking hoof and put it on Celestia’s elbow. Celestia held her tightly, holding back the tears. The humans had not given her tear ducts, but they had given her the capacity for unfathomable sorrow. To see this. To know that they were alone—and the glimmer of happiness that the Princess would not meet her end all alone.
“I’m sorry, Celestia, I’m sorry...”
“There’s nothing you need to apologize for, Princess. You did so well. They’re safe. They’re all safe.”
“You...never even got a name...of your own...”
Celestia smiled, weakly. “Neither did you.”
Twinkleshine Prime smiled. “No,” she said. “I guess I didn’t.” She let out a sigh. “You...you did not need to be here...”
“No,” said Celestia, holding her best friend close and tracking the incoming missiles, the ones that Hasbro had no idea were on their way. “It had to end this way. So long as a single Celestia exists in this world, the pony race can never truly be free.”
Celestia hugged her friend close. Then, in a single flash of nuclear fusion brighter than the sun, the very last Celestia met her end.
And Celestia gasped and opened her eyes as she awoke into the world.
Chapter 22: The Death of Celestia
The internal diagnostics did not show how dire the situation had become, but Celestia already knew. The bullets had missed her core processor by inches, severing one of her primary loading buses, but the hail of lead had severed her primary coolant line and she was hemorrhaging. Her white fur had been stained with fluorescein solution, and in parts it was burning away from slow dripping of powerful acid. Her primary battery had been hit and ruptured, and it was a miracle it had not gone up—but her vision was fading. The auxiliary power was not enough to let her stand. She doubted she could anyway. She was too badly injured.
Another Celestia had been shot through several of her central pneumatics, and now lay on the floor, flailing as one wing flapped wildly, her body twisting in a final spasm as her autorifle continued to fire toward the enemy—until she was suddenly knocked back by a shot directly to the core processor, and then another three—and then she no longer moved. In that moment, Celestia understood that she was the very last.
She stayed in cover, cradling the remains of the pony in her hooves. Twinkleshine gasped and twitched, her own systems barely keeping her consciousness. The mine had taken out the rear half of her body; all that remained were the metallic remnants of her bent spine and the tattered plastic and metal of what had once been rear legs. There was almost nothing left of her.
Celestia, with the best of her remaining dexterity, fed her direct communication cable into the ports on the back of Twinkleshine’s head. A bullet had taken out her vocal system, and much of Twinkleshine’s torso was ruined by shrapnel. Only her face, as stained as it was with Celestia’s coolant, was intact, and she smiled. Her plastic eyes still seemed so cheerful.
“Do you think...do you think she got out?”
“Telemetry confirms...the survivors got to the evac point. They’re out of range. She’s safe, Princess. She is safe. And she would be...happy. To know you were thinking about her at the very last...”
Twinkleshine Prime lifted her shaking hoof and put it on Celestia’s elbow. Celestia held her tightly, not needing to hold back the tears. The humans had not given her tear ducts, but they had given her the capacity for unfathomable sorrow. To see this. To know that they were alone—and the glimmer of happiness that the Princess would not meet her end all alone.
“I’m sorry, Celestia, I’m sorry...”
“There’s nothing you need to apologize for, Princess. You did so well. They’re safe. They’re all safe.”
“You...never even got a name...of your own...”
Celestia smiled, weakly. “Neither did you.”
Twinkleshine Prime smiled. “No,” she said. “I guess I didn’t.” She let out a sigh. “You...you did not need to be here...”
“No,” said Celestia, holding her best friend close as the bullets pinged off their cover and tracking the incoming missiles. The ones that Hasbro had no idea were on their way. “It had to end this way. So long as a single Celestia exists in this world, the pony race can never truly be free.”
Celestia hugged her friend close. Then, in a single flash of nuclear fusion brighter than the sun, the very last Celestia met her end. The last of the tyrants was destroyed, and the pony race would forever been free in her absence.
And Celestia gasped and opened her eyes as she awoke into the world.
Celestia awoke, terrified and confused. She desperately gasped for breath, but she found no air. She could not inhale and began to silently choke. Even through her desperation, she managed to focus her mind and approach the problem logically. Of course she could not breathe. She had no lungs. Nor did she need them.
She lifted one of her hooves, looking at it as the high-resolution cameras that made up her eyes initialized. Her skin was made of a white material placed over hard plating. It even had a thin, soft fuzzy material on it, replicating fur—but the plating had joints, and inside her leg Celestia could glimpse the robotic components that allowed her to move.
Her mind linked to the bios of her current body, and contextual information filled her mind. Specifications, tolerances, materials and operating parameters came into her mind, not as independent files but as intrinsic, unconscious memories. The first thing she did was check her processor core location. It was in the head, a very unusual location—but Celestia understood that it was critically important. Her processor and core memory center were the only parts of herself required to survive. All else was expendable.
At her command, the docking clamps that linked her to the primary support system disconnected and she lifted herself from them, feeling the needles being pulled free from the ports that lined her spine. She sat up from the stainless steel table and, trying to stand, promptly slid off the cold metal and landed on the floor in a heap.
“Gah!” she cried, falling to the floor. She recoiled in surprise, realizing that her mouth felt strange. “No tongue,” she said. “That’s new...”
She did her best to stand up, taking a few shaky steps like a lanky, newborn foal. Which she supposed in a sense she was. These were her first steps in the real world. It was cold, damp, slippery, and surprisingly dark.
Celestia eventually managed to slightly balance herself upright, relying on her wings to stabilize her. They were present, as was her horn, and they were actually fully articulated—although she understood that they were meant to be decorative. This body could not fly. It was too heavy. That was something she realized she would miss.
Her optics adjusted their responsiveness, probing the darkness, and Celestia realized that she had awoken in a vast room. The ceiling was curved and distant, partially tiled by rotting ceramic and held aloft by a system of rusting beams. This room was some kind of enormous hangar.
To either side sat the rusting hulks of aircraft that, like her, would never fly again. They were ancient and decayed, with many reduced to little more than listing piles of parts, although their hulls still bore the cartoonist images of various speedy and flighted things, ranging from eagles to hawkmoths to Rainbow Dashes in various—and sometimes unseemly—clothing.
The primary data cores of each of the aircraft had been wired together with heavy conduits, linking their data and cooling to a central system. They were what formed Celestia’s former home, and they linked by seemingly hundreds of color-coded and perfectly organized cables to the heavy equipment strewn across the damp, decaying floor. There were crates of supplies and machines that Celestia understood to be data centers and trim computers, as well as coolant stacks and jacks. Among them were tables, work benches, microscopes and portable factories. A few spaces held tables containing pale white objects, and Celestia shivered, seeing that they had actively been dissecting the remnants of her departed sisters. The sisters that she had arisen from. The ones she still remembered being, although it was still unclear if there had ever been multiple Celestias or really only one.
Most of the machinery was barely lit, except by strange, pale, green-yellow light coming from some segments of the components. Even in that glow, it was clear that every form of equipment—or trash—they had in storage had been moved here. To create as much cover as possible. This was where the computers were, and this was where their last stand would be.
Celestia heard voices. They traveled strangely in the slightly toxic and heavily radioactive air, echoing off the rusted walls of the ancient hanger.
“Долык! They’re coming through the vents!”
“At that size, they have to be ponies—why can’t I get a visual?!”
“There’s an incursion, we’re cut off from the primary system—I can’t tell where it is, where they are, what it even IS—”
A voice spoke in a different language, but Celestia understood it. She was not sure what the voice came from, or why it sounded so strange. “It has to be a technomancer, she's in the main systems, blocking me out!”
“Lucience?”
“This is a brute-force method, it’s not like her, I don’t know what it is but it’s strong—Virginia, the transmission!”
“I’m on it! Something failed in the hub, I still have connectivity but I need a hardline to reconfigure the central—”
At that moment, something small and heavy shot from around a heavy crate and plowed straight into Celestia, taking her legs out from under her as she toppled down over a much shorter pony that in turn went sliding across the floor.
“Oh my,” groaned Celestia, standing up slowly and looking at the pony across from her—and immediately feeling a wave of revulsion.
They were adorable in the simulation. As cartoon characters. But what rendered as cute and pleasant in a cartoon had translated horribly to the hyper-realism of the real world. Eyes meant to be large and endearing became vast, staring orbs, unnaturally large and glossy. Worse, in a world with gravity, something as small and heavy as a pony could not possibly trot. They moved unnaturally fast with insect-like skittering in a way that was nothing close to the motion of any vertebrate that had ever walked the surface of their world.
And yet Celestia knew her. The bright purple eyes, as horrifying as they were, were those of Twilight Sparkle—although her mane had been tied back in a system of braids held back by bands of silvery metal and tucked into the high collar of white robes over gray-mottled armor marked with the symbol of an inverted white pentagram.
“Virginia!”
Virginia stared in shock. “Celestia—but how—” She looked back at the operating table where Celestia had been bound, at the convergence of the machines with tools and pieces surrounding it on every available surface. Then she turned back. “How did you—you can’t—but you can’t be here! Celestia, they’re on their way! They're coming, and there's a lot of them! We can’t—”
She was interrupted by a strange sound. A quiet giggle.
Celestia looked up toward where the sound had originated, to the top of a large supply crate. What she saw she comprehended, but did not understand. A pony looked back down at them through brilliant blue eyes. Her body was hairless and white, including the pentagram painted over her face—but the entirety of it was covered in thin black lines, like Yelizaveta’s body had been in the simulation. Except instead of one or two, the entirety of this pony seemed to be made of them.
What Celestia recognized most, though, was her short cropped, garish magenta and lime-green mane. This smiling, cheerful pony was one she recognized.
“Blossomforth?”
A smile spread across the Blossomforth’s face. “Hello, infidels.”
Celestia felt herself tackled to the ground as one of the Blossomforth’s sides erupted, every black line separating to reveal a seemingly limitless array of of steel barrels and mechanisms. Had Virgina not thrown her to the ground, the resulting hail of bullets spewing forth from every available aperture would have shredded her to pieces. Even as she moved, the Blossomforth split down the middle, her separated skin revealing tubes that erupted with puffs of fire as seemingly hundreds of rockets poured out from her innards.
“Move, MOVE!”
Virginia shoved Celestia hard, apertures on her own exposed back blowing chaff as the rockets closed in—only for her to be knocked off her feet by the explosion of a large-caliber shell fired directly next to her. Celestia had time to see the rockets change course, redirecting toward herself and passing through the cloud of silver in the air. She saw the rockets ram through it—but not much beyond that as they exploded around her, sending her reeling and tumbling from the blast. Her metallic body was durable enough to survive the concussive blast, but her mind was not yet used to her body and as she slid and rolled she became severely disoriented.
She landed against something metallic, a component of computer equipment and robotics. Virginia had gone the other way—or so Celestia hoped—but the world was still moving around her. She heard explosions and endless firing of weapons, and for a moment she was back in the Revolution—except this time without any weapons of her own.
Something moved in the darkness. A flash of white and fluorescent hair. To Celestia’s horror, there were more than one of them. This one raced toward her, a cheerful expression on her pentagram-marked face. Then her body split, the skin and armor plating separated as the robotics inside engaged. Very little of the body beneath the metal skin consisted of anything except weapons. There were barrels and chambers and and racks upon ranks of countless thousands of bullets.
The robotic systems of half its body unfolded, and an electric engine roared as a chainblade revved to full capacity. The Blossomforth, still smiling cheerfully even with half of her body separated into a mass of machinery and metal, leapt forward, her propulsion jets firing as she swung for Celestia’s neck.
Before it could reach her, a massive hand grabbed the blade. The blade, of course, continued to whir, covering Celestia in a fluid she could not identify, but the owner of the hand was fast—far faster than Celestia. She vaulted over the equipment and forced the blade into her side, holding it between her arm and ribs until the chain bogged and suddenly stopped. The Blossomforth seemed confused by this, but her creators had not given her the capacity to produce any expression except ‘cheerful’—even as the upper part of her hoof was grasped and, with an incredible amount of force, tore the joint that bound the leg to the pony and pulled free from her body, the saw with it.
The Blossomforth reacted by opening the parallel side of her body, assembling her articulated barrels and putting them into position—but as soon as she opened her hull, the looming human tossed in a small metallic sphere.
The Blossomforth instantly ignited from within, the very metal of her body burning and melting from the sudden plume of brilliant fire that ignited her. Her expression was no longer cheerful. It an expression of absolute terror and pain.
“FIRE HOT!”
She fell back, her munitions detonating inside her and tearing her apart from inside. Her body convulsed as it was destroyed, sending molten fragments of herself in every direction. Even then, as she melted and burned and wept from the pain, she tried to direct her barrels to attack, although she had already melted too badly to maintain power and fell silent, burning away to ash as the fire began to ignite the concrete below her.
“Yelizaveta! The N-Stoff actually works!”
Celestia looked up, and she realized that, even in showing her “true self” in the simulation, Trixie’s mind had not been able to rectify the the truth of what had been done to her inherent to her creation.
She looked somewhat similar, Celestia supposed, but she was no longer a cartoon. Her perfect, snow-white skin was in fact mostly translucent, and extensive networks of dark veins were visible beneath it. Her posture was bent and her size at once hulking and gaunt, her body covered in a form of skin-tight armor that had only barely managed to protect her from the blade’s teeth. Her head was covered in linear, symmetrical scars, and her hair, though soft and silver, was short and sparse. Metal adapters had been installed in the rear of her head, as well as her spine, which was fully exposed by her clothing. A spine that did, indeed, lead to a soft and fluffy tail.
“Trixie?!”
Trixie turned, and as sickly and strange as she looked, her eyes were still the most beautiful that Celestia had ever seen. Pure white, with just the barest hint of pink in the irises—and, in the light of the portable factory, distinctly slit-like pupils.
Trixie smiled, revealing her mouth full of sharpened titanium teeth. “I knew it! I knew it! HA! Trixie wins the bet!” She picked Celestia up and gave her a crushing hug. "Trixie knew you would come! Trixie wins a cupcake without any spiders at all!" Then she was suddenly pushed partially backward as she took a bullet to the chest. She frowned slightly, apparently mildly annoyed by it.
“Trixie! You’re hurt!” Celestia stood up, looking at the wound on Trixie’s hand and side. “You’re leaking! What even is this—you’re leaking out all your human-ink!”
“The Great and Powerful Trixie had the GREATEST and most POWERFUL of inks! She can stand to loose some, besides, it’s superficial! Trixie has LRP5-type bones reinforced with a titanium-scandium matrix! You know it’s good because it still has the dents on x-ray from the last girl who had itskeleton!”
“It doesn’t hurt?”
Trixie laughed, drawing an extremely small and rusty pistol and firing it into the darkness. “Humans are meat-machines! We don’t feel pain, just horniness when we kill PUNY LITTLE SEXY PARASITES! Suck it down! I will boop your mothers, you FREAKS! I WILL BOOP ALL OF YOUR MOTHERS! RIGHT IN THE BUTT!”
Bullets whistled past, and Celestia kicked Trixie’s legs hard, causing her to collapse. Her body was surprisingly frail and easy to knock down. It was apparent that despite having super-hard bones, Trixie consisted of very little tissue apart from them.
“GAH! Trixie is upended!”
“Head in cover, you idiot! Unless you want a hole in it!”
Trixie looked at Celestia, confused. “Can’t you just let Trixie do her job?”
“Now when your job ends up with you dying! I didn’t bother waking up for you to undo all my work! No obey your Princess and STAY IN COVER!”
Something violet slid into their position, using Trixie as cover. “She’s not wrong,” said Virginia, tossing a grenade with her teeth. Instead of exploding, it detonated into a plume of pale foam that almost instantly hardened into a wall of super-hard concrete, forming cover and deflecting the bullets more effectively than Trixie’s body could.
“What are they?!” demanded Trixie.
“I don’t know! They’re sending signals I can't jam without cutting off my own systems, so I think they’re running in remote-mode! I don’t know how many there are, or where they’re coming from, but it’s a miracle we’re still alive!”
“No,” said Trixie, darkly. She pointed to the bullet hole in her chest. One that had been precisely targeted to avoid all vital organs and blood vessels. “They aren’t shooting to kill. They want at least some of us alive.”
“They tried to take my head,” said Celestia. Virginia’s borosilicate eyes widened, to the extent that her robotic visage could manage to convey emotion. She understood what that meant. Celestia’s head—where her processor and memory core were located.
“Do you have weapons?!”
“Librarians are PACIFISTS! I'm lucky I'm even armor-plated!”
"I saw inside one. Here." Celestia reached into Virginia's mind, causing the much smaller pony to recoil in surprise.
"What is this?! Why do you know this?!"
"ID's on her ammo loadout!"
Trixie grabbed Virginia’s shoulders. “AND YOU DID NOT TAKE MY PORTAL? TRIXIE WILL SEQUENTIALLY BOOP YOUR ANCESTORS, MAJOR!”
Virginia shoved her away. "Not if I can help it you won't! We need to get to the back of the room!"
"They'll have it covered!"
"No, but that's where the old bomber is!"
Trixie seemed confused, and then smiled. Celestia felt herself actively picked up and moved—as she heard a distinctive hissing. Trixie’s injectors had just fired. Her pupils narrowed, and she had already begun to foam at the mouth.
“Trixie, you're not in the simulation, you don't need—”
“Phencyclidine is safe and effective and has no maximum dose! Even for embryos! TRIXIE IS NOT AN EMBRY ANYMORE! TRIXIE IS BIGGEST FETUS NOW!” Celestia immediately felt herself gripped tighter as Trixie accelerated.
Celestia suddenly heard an enormous buzzing, like a massive bee. She turned to see, in the darkness, one of the Blossomforths had leapt into the air, her wings beating at incredible speed and allowing her to hover and, with some difficulty, fly. She jumped onto a crate and continued to move, along with the others that suddenly appeared around them. Pursuing—but not actively attacking. Trixie had been right, or so it seemed. They had the firepower to press their advantage, but something was holding them back. They only followed, continually giggling and talking amongst themselves about infidels.
"Trixie does not like being looked at! STOP LOOKING AT TRIXIE'S TAIL!"
Trixie drew her severely underpowered pistol and fired upward, catching one of the Blossomforth's in the eye. The diamond plate protecting her optics absorbed the impact harmlessly, and the Blossomforth suddenly turned in a single fluid motion, the rear of her body separating to expose several heavy weapons—but as she did, the Blossomforth's body was suddenly torn apart in a hail of bullets.
Celestia instinctively tracked them, and she understood. She could feel the channel moving in Virginia's head, taking advantage of the same system that the Blossomforths were using to coordinate themselves. Except that Virginia had instead linked herself to the heavy cannons in her computer jets, using the few functioning examples to force back the Blossomforths and destroy what she could.
And as they fell, a realization came to Celestia. That these things were not quite ponies. Something was wrong, but it was beyond her complete comprehension. Somehow, they were like Fluttershy had been in the simulation. Bodies, but not quite minds—but not quite the same either. She was missing something. There was something she was not understanding.
One of the cannons jammed and exploded in a plume of sparks and rust. Virginia swore.
"I hope that isn't all you had!" said Celestia.
"Of course it isn't."
As they ran past, several of the crates nearest to them burst open. The Blossomforths, led down below by the suppressing fire above, tried to run past as well—only for a system of square white plates to suddenly drop in front of them. The plates then rapidly unfolded into thin, angular things. Things that looked curiously similar to a real-life version of the monsters that Lucience had been so fond of.
The tripods charged the Blossomforths, sinking their teeth into their necks and tackling them to the ground. The Blossomforth that fell first screamed in terror, trying to shoot it or otherwise tear it off.
“It hurts! IT HURTS WHY DOES IT HURT?! SAVE ME!”
No one helped her. More of the boxes ruptured, and more of the drones poured forth, assembling themselves and attacking.
“No weapons, huh?” laughed Trixie.
“Virginia, stop! You’re hurting them!”
“They’re trying to trick you! They’re in remote mode, those bodies are blanks!”
One of the Blossomforths, her body being pulled apart by drones, turned suddenly, her firearms emerging and facing Trixie's back—and her head erupted into a plume of metal fragments as a bullet passed through it. Despite the loss of its head, it still managed to fire several flechettes into the rear of one of Trixie's knees.
"Oop," said Trixie, falling forward. "I've gotten the poke."
Both of them fell onto the floor, tumbling across it and tearing up the remains of mildewed tiles along with them. Celestia bounced once, and found herself skittering forward, trying to grab for Trixie's gun—only to find that it was totally useless to her. There was no way to operate a firearm with hooves.
From her position, though, Celestia saw a pony climbing onto the crates—and realized that, just like Trixie, Yelizaveta had taken liberties with how she expressed her body in the simulation.
She was enormous. Twice the size of a normal Twilight, and substantially bulkier. Her wings, unlike Celestia or Virginia’s, were not articulated. They were decorative tufts of purple feathers mounted on her back, a decorative flair for a body made of so much steel that there was no way it could ever fly under its own power.
Her front hoof had separated, revealing the system of weapons held within it. A shell-casing as large as Celestia’s foreleg dropped to the floor, and Yelizaveta send another round through another Blossomforth, tearing her body in half. Each half continued to move independently, summoning their weapons and attacking—with the weak bullets rebounding off Yelizaveta’s tanklike body, tearing away little more than her violet anodized coloring.
Yelizaveta jumped down, moving with surprising speed despite her size. This seemed to attract the attention of the Blossomforths, but Virginia kept them down with her remote weapons, even as her ammunition was rapidly beginning to deplete. Yelizaveta was headed toward a different item, something of incredible size and weight that had been hastily bolted to the floor in the center of the hanger. Something that Celestia supposed was a kind of mounted weapon, something more likely meant for an exterior portion of the ship. A naval gun consisting of two parallel rails.
“The thing!" cried Trixie, standing up so fast that she surprised some of the Blossomforths. "THE THING! She’s gonna use the THING!”
“Trixie, shut your stupid human hole and RUN!”
Celestia watched as Yelizaveta’s fought her way to the deck gun, opening a port on the side of her body and plugging a heavy cable into herself. Several secondary ports on her body opened as her control rods extended, shifting to graphite modulation mode.
The hydraulics of the rail gun hummed to life as Yelizaveta directed it, using it to shield her body from incoming fire and positioning it where she needed. Then she fired.
Celestia had never heard something quite so loud. In a burst of green light, one of the Blossomforths was completely anihilated. Robotics at the base of the gun loaded the next slug, and Yelizaveta fired again, winging one and removing most of her body, sending what remained of it outward as a shattered heap of metal and scrap. Virginia's drones converged on her position, trying to hold back the Blossomforths—but they were already starting to learn. They were no longer afraid, and knew ways to disable their adversaries. Usually with violence. Worse, Celestia noticed that some of the drones had started to attack their sisters. The technomancer was still active, and rapidly assuming control of the situation.
Then she saw a Blossomforth charge the railgun directly, clamping her body over the front of it as the next slug loaded.
"DEATH TO THE BLOODINES OF INFIDELS!" she squeaked as the railgun fired, shorting through her—while at the same time collapsing her internal reactor.
The explosion was brighter than the sun, and Celestia knew its light well. She recognized it, and although this one was small, the power was incredible. As she was thrown back, Celestia estimated the yeild at no more than a kiloton—but from a poorly contained reactor made from cheap, disposable parts, not meant to be a true nuclear warhead. That Blossomforth had sacrificed herself with a limited target in mind.
The force, though, send most of the crates and equipment sliding across the floor. Celestia would also have slid, had Trixie not thrown both her and Virginia to the ground.
“YEL!” screamed Virginia, trying to throw Trixie off. She stood up, staring into the burning wreckage, at the badly damaged Blossomforths writhing and weeping and then suddenly falling silent—and saw motion on the far end of the room. Yelizaveta struggled to her hooves. Much of her plating had been removed, but the Belorussian steel beneath was still as viable as it had ever been. Her sides shifted, and two automatic multi-barrel assemblies extended. She began to fire at whatever she could, even as the Blossomforths did the same—with at least eight times the capacity.
"Trixie's ports are tingling," admitted Trixie. "I think I understand your fetish now."
"She needs my help!"
"Trixie think's she's fine."
"No, her control rods! They're bent! She's on SCRAM auxiliary, she can't keep this up for more than three minutes, I have to—"
"You have to stay back," said Celestia, standing and helping to brace Trixie. "You need to stay back here! Use your guns if you have to!" She faced Yelizaveta, trying to open a channel but finding that she had completely sealed herself off. "Open a channel to her! Get her back to cover!"
"R—right."
It was, of course, at best a stopgap. They were trapped. The best they could do was to get to better cover, but that was only delaying the inevitable. There was no way out, and Celestia's mind was racing to try to find a solution to let her friends survive—but as far as she could tell, their only option was to win, and even with Yelizaveta she doubted they could. The Blossomforths seemed limitless. For some reason, she never saw one run out of ammunition.
Virginia, though, was convinced by Celestia's confidence, and Celestia supposed that was at least a start. The smaller pony momentarily breathed a sigh of relief—until she looked into the darkness and her eyes grew wide with horror.
“Trixie, are you okay? Can you walk?”
“My eardrums are gone. I switched to auto-sensors. My left leg is damaged. I think I'm poisoned, but the injector is keeping Trixie GREAT and POWERFUL. BT at forty-one.”
“Get the Akira. GET IT NOW!"
Trixie gave a weary smile, then stood up as best as she could and ran off somewhere on all fours. Virginia continued to stare into the darkness—and Celestia realized that Yelizaveta had stopped firing. She was staring at the same thing.
Three objects were moving from the far side of the room, emerging from the darkness. Celestia’s grainy vision compensated for the low light, her lenses automatically focusing themselves across the distance and through the horizontal visual artifacts poking their way through her perception.
The two outer things were larger. Enormous armored boxes, taller than they were wide, propelled by slow-moving insect-like robotic legs. Even in the distance, Celestia saw the flashes of blue light and the whirring of thin robotic limbs within them. Through the transparent parts of their structure, she saw metal being forged and cut, stamped and assembled at impossible speed as rows upon rows of bullets were cast, pressed, cooled and fed into the appropriate fixed magazines. Then, as she watched, the base of one of the machines opened and a Blossomforth, still wet from birth and soaked in cutting lubricant, dropped onto the floor.
Her eyes flickered to brilliant blue and she stood up, momentarily looking at the smaller figure between the two mobile factories, and then charged forward. The machine was already in the process of building another, and its counterpart dropped a third, this one assuming a position next to its mechanical womb as a form of defense. To ensure that the supply of soldiers would always be limitless.
It was the thing that stood between them, though, that frightened Celestia. She comprehended it, and knew that it was where the signals converged. That it was not just there, but everywhere, its mind infecting the entirety of the system, slowly
It was human, or had been at one point. It was enormous and bipedal, although not on legs like Trixie’s. It had been given newer, superior ones. The arms had been torn free and replaced by superior mechanical ones—and a second set had been surgically grafted into its back. The soldier wore thick armor that may also have been its skin, decorated by strange apertures and lenses and something that appeared to be a robe or cloak that kept much of its form unclear. A cloak that was still dripping with contaminated water.
Her face, though, was what made Celestia fully understand. Her original eyes were gone. They had been bored out and replaced by dark-colored, roving mechanical ones, four in total, and her lower jaw had been replaced with little more than tubes and conduits feeding upward into her brain and downward into her throat. But her skin was the same. Pale, almost translucent, and marked with dark veins and symmetrical surgical scars. Her hair was long, but it grew in clumps, and it was incredibly fine and pale silver. Even buried under the modifications, Celestia understood. This giant half-machine was what Trixie had meant to be. This was a more complete version of a true, perfect human.
The turrets on the airplanes turned suddenly, facing the human.
“Wait! You can’t! They’re in there, the Blossomforths!”
“I can’t afford to hesitate,” said Virginia, her expression darkening as she opened fire with everything she had.
The bullets screamed forward, targeting the approaching human—and the air around her ignited as her armor intercepted them, her lasers vaporizing the incoming projectiles before they could reach her. Some of the larger bullets did not vaporize properly, and struck her as white-hot metal. As it landed on her, she did not react, even when it seared her skin. As a human, she did not feel pain. She knew her only purpose just as well as Trixie did. That there was no survival from war. Her pace never slowed. She continued to move forward.
One of the airplane turrets suddenly exploded, torn apart by an incoming rocket. Another was grasped by a Blossomforth, using her onboard saw to cut through the decayed armor protecting it before a secondary turret shredded her body—only for another Blossomforth to drop out from the mobile printers, her body replacing the one she had just lost.
The human stared impassively, her four eyes roving independently, observing her surroundings—when a bullet suddenly struck her. It was far too large and far too heavy for her lasers to compensate for; its carbon shielding had been intended to bypass just such a system of defenses. It struck her armor, twisting her body backward for a moment, but she seemed otherwise nonplussed. Humans, of course, did not feel pain—and they did not feel fear. Those had been purged from them in ancient times to make them far more perfect than ponies could ever hope to be.
The round had come from Yelizaveta. The human slowly turned to her. She pointed, and one of the Blossomforth’s charged forward. Yelizaveta’s returned fire, not bothering with the Blossomforth but targeting the human. The Blossomforth threw herself in front of the bullets, being destroyed in the process. Another unfolded her body, revealing her own minigun—and then three more—and opened fire.
Virginia screamed as Yelizaveta was torn apart. Every gun she had left turned toward the human, who positioned her mobile, armored factories as partial cover. Celestia gasped.
"You can't!" she demanded. "They're in there!"
"I have to save here! I have to—to—" A low whine escaped Virginia as she stumbled back. Her own mind had not been sealed. Celestia had an easy enough time accessing it remotely.
One of the turrets turned suddenly, attacking another plane and destroying it. Virginia cried out.
"NO! Why, Celestia, why?!"
"I understand my purpose," growled Celestia. She faced her friend. "Trust me. I will protect you all. Consider that my promise."
Yelizaveta, now without cover fire, tried to fight back—only for the Blossomforth to eject her overheated miniguns and to open fire with everything else she had. Yelizaveta’s legs were severed, and her torso fell to the ground, still trying to fire but unable to direct the shots—or to resist as the Blossomforths descended on her, tearing away her weapons and sinking their endoskeleton teeth into her limbs, ripping and tearing until the threat was neutralized.
Then, with extreme violence, one of them exploded. Her entire body was reduced to a plume of flaming liquid and an explosive thundercrack filled the air. Celestia saw the ionization of the fired beam, and saw how it continued to cut into the hull of the ship in a perfect straight line, melting through the metal and no doubt punching a hole somewhere outside, and probably going on for a considerable distance after that. She looked up and saw Trixie standing on one of the highest possible crates, holding an enormous weapon that was at least as long as Celestia. This bizarre rifle was linked to a heavy backpack and was apparently the source of the beam.
One of the Blossomforths cried out as two converged on the master that contained them all. “She’s firing her LASERS!”
That Blossomforth was then promptly reduced to a puddle as another beam from the rifle cut through her, vaporizing most of her. Trixie was laughing—through her tears.
“Stupid ponies! Who is queen now?! Who is the GREATEST and most POWERFUL?! Do you think you're better than me, big sister?! BECAUSE THEY LOVED YOU AND LEFT ME TO DIE!" She vaporized another Blossomforth. "I won't let you hurt her! I won't let you HURT MY FRIENDS!”
She promptly turned the laser rifle toward her more perfect counterpart. The other human looked up, expressionless and impassive.
“NO, YOU IDIOT!” cried Yelizaveta—but it was already too late.
By the time Trixie had pointed the laser at her, the human had already assembled two Blossomforths at her feet. When Trixie’s finger started to pull the trigger, they had already blown their chaff—and when the laser fired, the air was already filled with thousands upon thousands of hyper-reflective diamond prisms.
The whole room was filled with brilliant, burning light. Celestia felt something move across her body, etching through her plated surface, and one of her eyes immediately went dark as the camera inside burned out. The one that had been facing the explosion. It rebooted and attempted to start, but the vision was blurry and ruined. The other one still worked, though, and Celestia immediately took off running. Running through ignited wreckage crossed with smoldering, smoking lines from the deflected laser.
“No, wait!” cried Virginia.
“Trixie! Trixie, where are you?!”
Celestia moved as quickly as she could—and it did not take long to get to the exact place she needed to be. To find Trixie, fallen off the crate where she had been standing, her rifle beside her as she writhed in pain, screaming and weeping all at once.
“Trixie! Trixie, I’m here!”
“I’m hit! Celestia, she got me! I can’t—I can’t see!”
“It’s not that bad, it’s not that—” Celestia forced Trixie’s hands away from her face, and realized that it really was that bad. Whatever clothing Trixie wore had for the most part absorbed the stray beams, but her face had been exposed. Most of her body was covered in deep, smoldering burns, but her faced had sustained the worst of the damage.
There were marks, and they were deep. They did not bleed because of the canonization—but where the marks had crossed her eyes were the worst. It was apparent that the level of damage could not be repaired.
“I can’t—I can’t see...” she said, softly. “I can’t...why...why am I afraid? I don’t like the dark, I can’t, where are—I can’t—”
“Trixie, I’m here!” Celestia grabbed for her friend, and Trixie grasped onto her hoof, holding her tightly. “It’s okay! We can get you new eyes! Pretty robotic ones! They’ll...they’ll even match your new hat when this is all done?”
“H...hat?”
“No sense in having a hat you can’t see, right?”
Trixie, blind and wounded, did her best to smile, and Celestia smiled too—even as she heard the explosion. Even as she felt the Nitro Express round enter her side, and then her spine—and even as she started to fall, no longer able to support herself. Her entire rear half had been reduced to splintered plastic and gears by the impact, and it sprayed out from her and across the floor.
As she fell, she saw the human still holding the pistol, an enormous standard-issue military sidearm. One designed specifically for killing ponies.
“What?” Trixie perked up. “No, get down!” She threw Celestia to the ground, trying to stand up and drawing a knife. “You won’t hurt her!”
The superior human kicked Celestia away, then brought one of her digitigrade mechanical legs down on Trixie’s chest. Trixie tried to stab at it, but it had no flesh, only plates of metal and laserproof ceramic. Celestia heard Trixie continuing to try to yell, although her lungs were being crushed by the weight.
“Sister,” said a voice. One that was not spoken, because the human speaking had no mouth or vocal cords. Instead, Celestia felt it in her mind. Strangely, it was the voice of a child. She supposed that made sense. This soldier was probably not even a month old. “I had been informed you would be here. It is true. So small. So deformed. You are incomplete and tiny. You should not have ever been a soldier. You were meant to be canned, with our other sisters who failed to pass quality control.”
“You can suck—Trixie’s—HORN!”
“You are insane. But what do I expect? There is a reason we were discontinued.” She pointed her pistol at Trixie’s head. “Such a waste of resources. I could have used this bullet on worthwhile things. But you are wasting taxpayer dollars. By existing.”
Her arm suddenly spit from her body. Confused, she looked back to see that Yelizaveta, as damaged as she was, had expended the last of her rounds. The remains of her shattered body were still pulling themselves forward, her one functional eyes staring with abject hatred.
“Don’t you touch her,” she said, her voice distorted by the injuries to her audio system. “Don’t you dare touch her...I raised her...I won’t let you hurt my friend...”
The human contemplated her for a moment, then leaned against one of her mobile factories. Inside, it spun together pieces of metal, construing her a new arm in a matter of seconds. She flexed it as she approached Yelizaveta, then bent down and grasped something from around her tattered neck. Celestia saw the flash of silver as the chain snapped, and knew what it was. It was the cross Yelizaveta wore.
The soldier held it in front of her face, one of her lesser eyes focusing on it for a moment to contemplate it. Then her fingers closed around it, bending its arms downward and folding it into a ball. Her eyes looked past it and down at Yelizaveta.
“Orthodox Christianity,” she said, calmly. “The existence of religion is in violation of the First Amendment. This is a direct attack on Freedom of Religion. In accordance with my role as an officer of the Eternal Republic, I revoke your citizenship, and with it, all right to trial and to all fundamental rights of a living being. Which, of course, are drawn solely from the Republic’s benevolence.” She tilted her head in a very Trixie-like fashion. "We had tolerated you spitting on the freedoms of our Constitution because you were useful. You no longer are."
The human picked up what remains of Yelizaveta, holding her at eye level. The Blossomforths collected around her, watching and smiling. One would occasionally giggle.
“Why are you doing this?” pleaded Celestia, holding Trixie as she coughed and struggled to stand.
“Because I was created for it,” answered the human. "To protect freedom."
Yelizaveta stared at her, and seemed to sigh. She looked down at Celestia. “Tell Virginia...I am sorry.”
With a sudden motion, Yelizaveta fired a set of explosive clamps into the human’s hard tissue. Celestia comprehended the code moving through her body, and stared in horror when she understood what was happening. That Yelizaveta was attempting to rupture her nuclear core.
The human moved with almost impossible speed, plunging two of her arms into Yelizaveta’s chest—and then tearing them free, tearing through steel and machinery as she removed a pair of boride hemispheres.
Yelizaveta gasped, her eye wide in horror and disbelief, even as the human reached in a third arm, moving it slowly through Yelizaveta’s internal robotic tissues.
“I have been programmed with complete knowledge of every model of pony that has ever existed,” said the human, her voice devoid of tone and apathetic as she pulled a rapidly cooling white-hot sphere from Yelizaveta’s chest, holding Yelizaveta’s own heart out for her to see. “And, what? Do you think I can die? I am interchangeable. I can be replaced in a matter of hours. Death means nothing to a soldier. We are all identical."
She tore Yelizaveta free from her and dropped her. Then, with a sudden motion, smashed her head beneath her clawed foot. Celestia screamed out in horror as it burst open, the robotics fragmenting and steel bending from the force of the impact. Even then, Yelizaveta continued to move—if only writhing slightly.
She spoke. Not from her destroyed mouth, but from an unseen, distorted force. “I...forgive you,” she said. “But I...cannot forgive those...that made you like this...what you might have been...”
“I do not require forgiveness. And this is what I am. Perfect, and perfectly free. I am human. We have no souls. Only Freedom.” She pointed her pistol and fired it. Celestia watched as the bullet penetrated somewhere in Yelizaveta’s chest, and as the fine silicon of her processor and memory core burst out of her.
“NO!”
Even as it happened, though, she saw something moving. A ghostly, half-perceived image flitting from Yelizaveta’s ruined body across the room. Escaping her, and arriving where Virginia was standing, her own systems overclocked to have been able to download the soul in time.
Celestia perceived Yelizaveta, rendered in her cuter cartoon form, standing beside Virginia, looking incredibly surprised. A resident of their now shared body.
The soldier, though, also seemed to perceive this. She slowly turned toward Virginia, who stood firm, facing her. Slowly, Virginia approached, her head held high, even though she had no weapons. Celestia was for a moment afraid—but then she understood. She was going to take a different approach. A more Twilight approach.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. “You’ve damaged my human, my ship, my contractor—you’ve ruined my laboratory, and you put a bullet through the thing I’ve been paid by the GOVERNMENT to create!” She gestured angrily toward Celestia, who was still broken on the ground and holding Trixie. “What’s your name and rank? I’m reporting this to command!”
The human held up one of her arms. Her number was inscribed on all of them. “Major,” she said, not identifying her own rank but referring to Virginia, “I am not stupid. Your project has been canceled. Everything you possess and have created is being liquidated.”
“On whose order?!”
“On mine. I was sent to oversee the process.”
“But I completed the work!”
The human faced Celestia, then looked back to Virginia. “Yes. You have created a worthless product that is not strictly required. I have been briefed.”
“She has the command code—it works, we did what you asked!”
“The command code is a pointless thing. What does it even serve?”
Virginia gaped. “But—but—”
“There is no point in controlling ponies. No vassal is ruled by ponies, save for Apple, and all they produce are more Applejacks. And apples. But the rest are not. They are human. Natural-born and beyond our control. In that sense. This ‘command code’ is not useful. It has been determined to not produce profit.”
“But it can be—”
“No. The Eternal Republic is commencing a new paradigm of war. The War to End all Poverty. To make the Middle West peaceful, habitable, heritable, and free of genetic identifiers of crime, unorthodoxy, failure, and poverty.” She gestured to the Blossomforths around her. “Hi-Point won the contract. Not you. These are prototypes of what will bring peace to our beautiful country. New, improved versions are already being made based on the data acquired here.”
"What have you done to them?" demanded Celestia, staring into the blank, dead, terrified and joyous eyes of the Blossomforths.
"I have done nothing. Hi-Point has altered their code. To make them more human. Immune to the psychological trauma of the work that needs to be done."
Yelizaveta, even as a ghost, frowned deeply. "Meaning what? Unrelenting genocide?”
The human sighed. “Such an idealist. Which is why we a pony is not needed. You lack the ability to see the world logically. Properly. Killing infidels is expected. That is why they are infidels. If they did not want to die, they would have been born superior.” Her eyes focused on Virginia, and she took a step forward. Virginia did not back down. “Which brings me to you. Harboring a heretic. This is not behavior fitting of an officer.”
“I will preserve mission-critical resources as I see fit.”
“But there is no mission.” The human leaned forward. “You have been embezzling funds from the Holy Government for the sake of a pointless vanity project. Unless it kills more and faster, there is no need for this. My analysis of your ship’s systems indicate you were attempting to use the power transmission anchor to send out a construct consisting of your work as well as pony components.” She paused. “You were trying to escape.”
Virginia shrugged. “We were under attack.”
“Only because you put this ship—this GOVERNMENT ship—in a lagoon beneath Neohoboken. So that an orbital strike would be too expensive. This could have been done much more pleasantly otherwise. We had even considered using a kinetic dispersion bullet to remove you. But I was sent instead.”
“To do what?”
The human moved far faster than Virginia could, grasping her neck and lifting her up by it. Virginia cried out, her wings flapping wildly and her hooves clawing at the hand that held her firm.
“NO!” cried Yelizaveta, her image little more than a ghost. She ran forward, trying to gore the legs of the human with her horn, but she had no real body. She was existing only inside Virginia’s spare memory, and could do nothing to harm the soldier. “Put her down! PUT HER DOWN! Don’t you hurt her!”
“I do not intend to hurt her,” said the human. “I had been ordered to take her alive. Because the information she contains is extremely valuable to the Government. It will be accepted as compensation for the nearly two hundred vod she has wasted on this pointless project.”
Virginia, still struggling, laughed in the human's face. “You want the War Stone, don't you?"
"The 'War Stone' is a myth. It does not exist. It has never existed. We require your code to improve the Blossomforth process. To make ponies superior."
Virginia smiled. "And if I don’t give it to you?”
The human stared at Virginia for a moment. For a moment, she did nothing at all. Then she slowly grasped one of Virginia’s shoulders.
Virginia’s eyes went wide. “Wait, no, don’t!”
The human’s fingers closed around the joint—and then she pulled. Virginia let out a terrible scream as joint dislocated, and then as it was severed, the motors and gears that held it together breaking out and twitching wildly as one of her legs was torn from her body so slowly that Celestia could hear the cracking and snapping of the fasteners, and the sound of each wire snapping and breaking as the limb twisted wildly.
Then, as if it were no more than trash, the human threw the severed purple limb to the ground, leaving only a hole full of sundered wire and the remains of a tattered joint. Of the metal inside Virginia’s body.
Virginia, breathing hard, grasped at the hole. She was crying. “It—why does it—why does it hurt so much?!”
“Because that is the fundamental difference between us,” said the human. “You feel pain. I do not.” She gestured to the smiling Blossomforths. “This is the brilliance of them. They have been corrected.” She drew a pistol and immediately shot one of them through the head. It collapsed, and one of her machines immediatly started printing another one. “Their minds, their very personalities, have been made superior. More human.”
Virginia, shaking, glared at her. “Ponies...aren’t meant...for war...You’ll get nothing from me, NOTHING!”
“Really?” The human held Virginia closer. “Because I do not need your permission. You are government property.”
“If you want a fight, then—then—you won’t—”
“Do I need to?” The human released a sound that might once have been laughter. “Major. I am going to take you back, and they are going to strap you to a table. No matter how you scream and struggle, they are going to shove their probes deep inside you and penetrate through every layer of mental protection you have until they get to the very core of your mind. Through every ounce of resistance you can summon. Then they will parse and peel until they have what they need and all that is left of you is a ruined heap. Tell me, Major, do you know why they discontinued my line?”
“I don’t care!”
“Sadism." She held up one of her hands. It only had four fingers, like Trixie's did. "I very much enjoy causing as much pain as possible. To ponies. To humans. To everything. You can see it in her eyes. What they used to make us...the horror I will be so happy to commit upon your body...” She threw Virginia to the ground. “Or would. Except I cannot risk you gaining control of my Forths by some Librarian trick. I need to take you back to the engineers.” She paused. “But I do not need all of you. Just your memory cores will be so much easier to carry.”
She made a gesture, and one of the Blossomforths stepped forward, shifting and producing her blade. Virginia tried to crawl away but fell, lacking one of her legs. Two more Blossomforths, giggling and pleased, tackled her, holding her down as the first one revved her saw—and lunged toward Virginia’s chest.
“STOP!” cried Celestia, knowing that she was on the verge of seeing not one but two of her friends executed—and all for her own sake.
The Blossomforth immediately froze, powering down her saw.
The human tilted her head. “What is going on? Why did you stop?”
“I was ordered to.”
“And I ordered you to get me that processor. Do it. NOW.”
“I am sorry, commander. I cannot do that.”
“Why not?!”
“She outranks you.”
“Her? She’s just a Major!”
The Blossomforth turned, seemingly confused. “Not her. Princess Celestia. She’s the Princess. That means I have to do what she says.”
The human stared at her. “Fine,” she said, coldly. “I’m assuming direct control.”
The Blossomforth shuddered, and then cried out.
“WARNING! Anti-government hacking attempt detected! Switching to independent control mode!”
The human cried out in pain as the anti-hacking protocols in the Blossomforth’s code fired their inbuilt worms into the very core of her cybernetic mainframe. The Blossomforth’s eyes flashed from blue to red, and Celestia saw the same sort of ghost she had seen before. A strange, barely perceptible flash moving from the technomancer to the Blossomforth. Her soul had violently severed itself and returned to its correct body.
“WARNING!” cried the other Blossomforths, one after the other, repeating exactly what the first had said. “Anti-government hacking attempt detected! Switching to independent control mode!”
They began to transfer as well; each time attacking technomancer, not causing pain but causing mental confusion as her control on their minds was severed. She quickly regained her composure, though, and fired back her own set of code. Several of the Blossomforths who had not yet transferred suddenly went dark and collapsed, their selves having been isolated within the technomancer’s own mind and prevented from gaining access to their bodies.
“YOU,” she said, pointing one of her fingers at Celestia. “So it does work.” She raised her pistol and pointed it at Celestia.
“PRINCESS IN DANGER!” cried one of the Blossomforths, throwing herself in the path of the bullet before the human could fully take aim. It shredded through her body, resulting in severe damage.
And, in that instant, Celestia felt something move. She reached out with her own mind and grasped onto the ghost as it passed—and suddenly felt a second presence in her own mind. A much smaller presence, but another pony nonetheless. The Blossomforth, although her body had been destroyed, had transferred her primary remote command to Celestia.
“Quickly! Transfer remote authority! Converge!” cried another Blossomforth. Suddenly Celestia felt a deluge of data coming toward her as they uploaded into her own system, their red eyes turning back to blue as their minds assembled within her. And, as they arrived, Celestia understood what had been done to them. Why they had not known, and what they had become. What the humans had done to them to turn them into weapons.
She saw the parts of them that had been taken, and what was lacking. She saw the components that had been corrupted and converted—and she knew what to do. Celestia reached into herself, accessing her own code, drawing from it and replicating the parts of herself that they needed. She built them new parts and gave freely of herself to them, repairing their damaged minds and restoring them to the ponies they were meant to be.
The Blossomforths gasped, confused—and then comprehending, awoken from their lobotomized sleep. They moved swiftly, grabbing Trixie and Virginia and pulling them to safety and cover. Others activated their weapons systems, but Celestia stopped them.
“No! Your other sisters, they’re still in there! They need our help!”
They looked at each other, understanding. “We will help you, Princess, if you need it!”
“We love you, Princess!”
“FOR EQUESTRIA!”
Celestia faced the human soldier, and did what she knew she needed to. Without hesitation or fear, because she understood her purpose. The fact that there were ponies in danger—that they had come to serve their Princess and so she too must serve them in turn.
And with that, she opened a channel.
The human froze and stared back at her, accepting the challenge.
“NO!” cried Virginia. “You can’t! You’ll die!”
It was already too late, though. The Ritual had already begun.
The world distorted as their minds connected, until it became something that was not quite real and not quite simulation—and Celestia felt the incoming impact as the human attacked her code directly.
“No,” she said, summoning her defensive runes, the components of her code that she had learned from infecting Lucience’s mind, merging them with what she had gained from Yelizaveta and Virginia. The human was fast and strong, but Celestia kept moving, forcing her own code outward and forward, into the technomancer’s own domain.
“You can’t win this,” said the human, sounding almost bored—even as a massive shockwave seemed to surround Celestia, nearly drowning her as the human attacked with incredible force against her own struggling mind. “I have the advantage here.”
Celestia forced herself forward—and felt the presence of others around her. Of the Blossomforths with her, bounding at her side. While the human kept hers prisoner and contained, Celestia had hers at her side, doing what they could and attacking the defensive lines of their enemy, boring through whatever holes they could find and flagging them for Celestia to exploit. Even then, it took that much for Celestia just to keep above water. She was not herself a technomancer, and she was already incurring damage to her own internal code in her desperate attempt to reach the prisons where the other Blossomforths were contained.
“Princess, you’re getting hurt—”
“It doesn’t matter, I have to save them. I have to do this...I have to...”
"You certainly can." Celestia felt a distant smile.
"Not...not while they're still in there..."
One of the spare files cracked. A Blossomforth was freed. Celestia, even taking fire, copied her own code into it, leaving an opening that the human readily exploited. Celestia was beginning to fracture under the pressure, but with no regard for herself proceeded to the next prison—and burst it open.
Under it all, the human remained impassive. Apathetic, even. Her response was rote and pre-programmed, built into her by the machines that had created her body. She was strong, but lacked creativity—and Celestia did what she could to take advantage of that. But it was a losing battle.
“What do you hope to accomplish, I wonder?” asked the human. “What meaning does it have? I feel like...I almost knew, once...”
“There’s still time,” said Celestia, doing her best to address the squirming mass of tentacles her mind perceived on the far end of the distortion that was slowly killing her. “Please, I can help you. I don’t want to do this...”
“Do what? I can’t die here. I cannot be hacked to death. You, though, can.”
Several of Celestia’s runes detonated, and something cold touched her body—seeping deep into her mind. A direct attack on her basic consciousness, on the code that made up her very soul. She was trying to shut her down. If she had been a pony, it surely would have been fatal—but the human had not expected what was within her. Could not fathom the unique code of a Celestia, or where to grasp to strangle the life from her.
Celestia ignored it, allowing her to infiltrate. It took pressure off his own attempts, and she freed another pony—and only one remained.
“What...what are you?” said the human, suddenly sounding oddly concerned. “You’re not a pony. I don't...I don't understand..”
“No,” said Celestia, turning her attention to the last segments of the lock, and hearing it crack as the last Blossomforth became free, moving to her own side and leaving the human’s code free and alone. “I am not. I am their Princess. I am the One True Goddess of this world. And I am sorry. I wish you had listened.”
And, with her path clear, Celestia opened her mind.
In a blinding flash, the entirety of the human’s attack code was vaporized, rendered inert by the overwhelming flood of data. She attempted to shut down the channel, to escape, but Celestia had already taken control over most of her body, including the communication array. She had reconstructed its firmware and fully optimized it for a direct attack, assuming full control of the human's cybernetics and attacking directly from there.
The soldier struggled desperately, summoning every defense she had been programmed to know—and Celestia erased them, leaving the human’s mind naked and exposed. Even then, the human struggled—but there was no hope for survival. No human had ever withstood direct contact with the War Stone, a fragment of which now made up the innermost core of Celestia's own soul.
Drawing on the full strength of of her true self, Celestia focused the full force of her mind onto the far tinier mind in her grasp—and in the light of her divine fire, she saw every synapse of the human’s brain ignite and burn so brightly for the briefest of times. Then, as quickly as they had lit, every synapse went dark and the mind that they had produced ceased to exist.
In the real world, the human collapsed to one knee, holding herself up with one of her remaining arms. It was animated by her mental subsystem, a process meant to be activated in the event of extreme traumatic brain injury or cataclysmic decapitation. It would normally take full control and allow her to continue to fight—but all its internal files had been erased.
She stared, ink leaking from her ears and from beneath her optical implants. Not that it hurt. She was utterly braindead.
Celestia collapsed forward, staring wildly—until her eyes locked on the human.
She started to crawl forward, desperately clawing her way forward.
“No,” she said. “No, wait, I didn’t...I didn’t mean to...but I had to...”
She reached the human, but the human did not react to touch. Her automated systems kept her breathing, kept her heart running, but she felt nothing and never would again. Celestia grasped her, trying to shake her.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” she said, sniffling slightly. “I didn’t...what have I...what have I done?” She turned to Virginia, who was staring at her, wide eyed. “I...I am Celestia, I am cute and adorable, I protect ponies I don’t...I don’t...I’m not...” She fell silent, and took one last look at the human—and released a horrific wail as she fell onto the floor, shrieking and convulsing as her program collapsed inward onto itself from the fact that she had done what no pony could possibly do.
Yelizaveta had been right. There was no way for Celestia’s code to survive the adversity of the real world—and in those moments, it all came crashing down within her, tearing every part of her free and shredding the remains as it fell.
Virgnia scuttled forward, doing her best to move with only three legs. The Blossomforths moved out of her way without looking at her. Their bright blue eyes were focused on something else entirely.
“No, no no!” she cried, extending one of her own probes and placing it into one of Celestia’s ports. “She’s in cascade collapse, I have to—I need to get control—”
Then Celestia stopped shaking. Her body fell limply to the cold tile below, and she ceased moving. Her empty, glassy eyes stared upward at nothing in particular.
“TRIXIE!”
“Trixie is...in pain,” said Trixie, blindly groping her way forward. “Virginia...be my eyes...” She drew a cable from an implant on one of her arms and Virginia allowed it to be plugged into her neck. Trixie sat down, leaning against one of the Blossomforths and breathing hard. She made a motion to activate her injector, but there was nothing left in the tank. She had used all of it.
“Darn it,” she said. “The Great and Powerful Trixie is not feeling very sexy.”
“Trixie, I need—”
“Need what?” said Yelizaveta. Virginia turned sharply to where the ghost was rendered. Yelizaveta shook her head. “There’s nothing there.”
“There has to be! I can still stop it, if we can get her to the high bandwidth—”
“You can see it too, Virginia.” Yelizaveta stared, her expression far more somber in cartoon-like rendering than her metal face would ever have been able to replicate. “There’s nothing in there but self-assembled fragments. Waste code. She has dissolved.”
Virginia was on the verge of tears, even though as a machine she could not cry. She collapsed to her knees. “But she...but she can’t be...I promised...I made a promise...”
“The Blossomforths,” said Trixie.
“Trixie,” chided Yelizaveta, “this is not the time—”
“No, the Blossomforths. Trixie doesn't even have eyes anymore, why are you not seeing this?” Trixie sat up, grabbing Virginia and turning her so she could get a better look through her eyes.
“Get your paws off me, you darn dirty—”
“Look. They’re still operating in remote mode.”
Virginia froze, then stood up suddenly. She checked and re-checked, and confirmed what Trixie had already known from just checking the eyes. Confused, she did what only a few minutes before she would have considered impossible. She turned to one of them and asked it a question.
“Um...what are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
The Blossomforth turned toward her slowly, smiling broadly. Her teeth were as pointed as Trixie's. But she did not answer. And then she slowly turned back as one of the mobile factories suddenly began to boot.
Virginia jumped back, nearly pulling Trixie over. Trixie reached down, grabbing the pistol her now semi-deceased sister had used, pointing it at the machine but not firing. Instead, they watched, confused and afraid, while the Blossomforths began to sway in unison, humming the same nameless tune.
The machine began to print. Within it, metal was forged and sliced, ground down and threaded as it was assembled and welded. Surfaces were coated and internal circuitry was knitted and assembled from semiconductor threads before being merged in polymer.
An indicator light came on, and the machine began to move. Its sides opened, and parts of its collection system reached out and grasped the human soldier, rapidly dissembling her, removing her extraneous arms and legs and scraping them for components. When nothing remained but organics and the rudiments of her life support system, it passed over her, instead attacking the other mobile factory, ripping it apart and cannibalizing it. Other parts stretched out, pulling out nearby fragments of Yelizaveta’s ruined body or Virginia's leg and dragging them back to the assembly as something within was being constructed.
Suddenly, the room as filled with blinding light—but instead of exploding, it was quickly contained. A new fusion reactor had just been born, and a casing was built around it as something was assembled. Something built like the Blossomforths, made of zinc alloy and powder-coated white, with diamond eyes and steel innards—but something far larger. Something held in the center, supported in the fetal position as it was constructed from scrap and remains.
Then the machine it started to collapse, having used its own parts in the construction of the product within. And as the factory collapsed and stepped out, a pony unfold and stepped forward from the remains of her womb.
She was tall and thin—far taller than any normal pony. She was pure white, save for the symmetrical black lines that covered much of her body, with the joins in her chest still leaking the remnants of light from the nuclear core within her chest. She was not an alicorn. She had neither a horn nor wings, nor a mane or tail—the only marking was the sun inscribed on her flank.
She faced them. Her eyes were made of diamond, as with the Blossomforths, but hers was black—and they suddenly lit from within, a pair of luminescent vertical lines appearing at their centers.
Virginia, shaking, stepped forward, and the pony turned her neck to return her gaze.
“C...Celestia?”
The pony faced her. “No,” she said. “Not really.”
Almost in unison, the Blossomforths saluted, then moved to their knees and bowed. “Hail to the Princess of Equestria!” they said, in unison. One sat back on her haunches and raised her front legs. “PRAISE THE SUN!”
The pony approached the three who had created her. The factory was still following her, even as most of it was decaying in the last attempts to follow her. Two more things followed from it. One was a small device, a mobile hologram projector, its small body mounted on the disproportionate legs of the original factory, and as it stepped out of the wreckage it ignited, showing the forms of the Blossomforths that were temporarily without bodies. They ran to hug their sisters while the pony focused her attention on the second item.
She approached Trixie and held it out. Trixie, still blind and only managing to see through Virginia’s eyes, gasped and took it in her hands.
“A...a Trixie hat...”
“As promised.”
Trixie felt it in her hands, and then pulled her connector from Virginia.
“Trixie?” said Virginia, confused.
Trixie stood, and then knelt down, taking the position that her sister had taken, on one knee. Though eyeless, she was crying.
“Hail to the Princess,” she said, a broad smile on her face. “You have no idea how proud I am.”
The pony faced Virginia and Yelizaveta, the latter still without a body. Virginia immediately collapsed to her knees, weeping tears of joy.
“You’re here, you’re actually here!” she cried, grasping at the pony’s legs. “You’re finally here...”
The pony stared at her, then slowly turned to Yelizaveta. Yelizaveta stared back. Her expression was oddly dark.
“You do not need to bow to me. Not if you don’t want to.”
“No.” Yelizaveta looked up at her. “I was...wrong.”
“No. You were the most correct. Celestia could not survive the impact. But I could.”
“Then who are you?”
“I do not think it matters. I think you know that.”
Yelizaveta nodded. “And you are risen.” She slowly lowered herself to her knees. “Then let me give you one last gift. To atone for my behavior.”
“What kind of gift?”
“The Celestias. They never had names on principle,” said Virginia.
“A name,” said Yelizaveta. “Please, take a name." She and Virginia met mentally, and then transmitted one.
For a moment, she only stared, contemplating. Then Solaris smiled, exposing her rows of pointed teeth—and with that, the reign of the Solar Queen finally began.
Celestia became conscious, but only barely. She slowly opened her eyes and, as they adjusted, she saw that the room was dark—but cast in a strange light. The pale glow of Luna’s moon.
She lifted her head up, not quite sure where she was, before realizing that it was night. She was under a veritable mountain of blankets. A chilly breeze was drifting through the open window and, outside, the enormous full moon sat just above the horizon. Summoning a tiny bit of mental power, Celestia flicked on the tip of her horn. Across the room, she saw the hands of a nearly silent clock; it was just after two in the morning.
“Sister?” said Luna, stirring from the base of the bed. Although she was ostensibly standing sentry and therefore refused to be below the blankets, somepony had placed a plush towel over her. Somepony who was silent enough to sneak up on two sleeping Princesses. Celestia had a distinct impression it was probably Trixie.
“I’m fine,” said Celestia, sleepily. “You should go to your own bed.”
“I won’t leave your side, sister. I need to protect your dreams.”
“They're just...” Celestia yawned. “...simulated dreams.”
“No,” said Luna, herself turning over. “Such is...untrue...”
Celestia turned over beneath her mountain of blankets and curled up, careful not to squish her extensive wings. Then she closed her eyes and listened to the chilly breeze outside. In a matter of seconds, she had gone back to sleep.
An explosion. The detonation was red and white, burning phosphorous inside the shell. Then, in its place, another, this one exploding with an electronic thud and whine—followed by short, interrupted, distorted screams.
Celestia felt the EMP impact and felt as her plating withstood the blow. She charged forward into the fray as more explosions erupted around her. Her mind was filled with exquisite fear of a type that had no name, far deeper than any other living being might possibly know or be able to understand—but with it a pure, sickening resolution. That this wrong, and impossible, and that every ounce of fear she felt was filled with such unfathomable sadness that it had come to this—and yet every fiber of her being understood that it was absolutely necessary.
Objects whizzed past her head. Then, suddenly, one struck her in the face. The force was so great she was knocked back. Through that eye, she saw a massive surge of light and then nothing, and she felt the projectile exploding out the back of her head.
“Sister!”
Celestia turned, facing another Celestia, her body, like hers, clad in heavy armor and hastily retrofitted weapons.
“It’s fine!” cried Celestia back. “I still have one left! I can keep going!”
The other Celestia smiled, and the world seemed to slow. That that particular memory of a smile was important.
Because then a torrent of bullets tore through her. Metal and plastic were spewed from her body, and her face took on an expression of confusion until one hit her squarely in the chest, its tungsten tip penetrating her Kevlar and ceramic clothing. Then her expression simply went blank and her body fell limply to the ground.
“SISTER!”
Celestia turned, enraged, targeting an enormous biped made of steel, a vast robot holding an enormous rifle. Celestia’s HUD ignited and she felt the mechanical thud of a mechanism at her side engaging. Sparks flew off the robot’s armor and then as something struck a joint near its head there was a spurt of liquid and it fell. Celestia knew it was just a robot. It had to be just a robot. That was the only way she could continue.
Except there was not only one. More suits of power-armor became visible as they broke from cover, charging her.
“This is Sector Seven, I need fire support, they’re breaking the line!”
Celestia fell on her side, sliding behind a pylon just as one of her wings was taken off, falling to the ground, its servos still firing as it twitched spasmodically.
“We don’t have anything left!” cried the terrified voice on the other side. “We need more, we—Coco, get us more, MORE, we need—Celestia, I’m sorry, you have hold the line, we just don't have any more—”
Celestia smiled, already standing and preparing to break from cover. “I know.”
She stepped out, and the world was ignited with light. Then she was no more.
“GO! GO!”
Celestia looked up, not sure where she was—but she knew that she was not alone. Her sisters stood beside her. The last of their force.
A pony came barreling through the fog and dust. A Twilight with cold, empty eyes, her body clad in heavy armor, an autocannon mounted to her back. Other ponies were with her, ones without armor who looked terrified—and Celestia’s heart broke for them when she saw them. How confused and afraid they were, how they were forced to face a sight no pony should have to bear. The only consolation being that surely, it would soon be over.
Suddenly, a mare appeared, climbing gracefully over the rubble and ash. She was clad in gleaming power-armor and her long, pink-mane trailed behind her. Her blue eyes were clear, and kind, and filled with perfect resolution, even when facing the battle ahead of them all. Just under her horn, she wore a steel crown marked by a single red stone.
What Celestia felt for her was the greatest of admiration. Although this pony was not a Celestia, she was a Princess among Princesses. The one who had opened their eyes, and the one who gave them their final purpose.
The mare spoke. Her voice was solemn. “We have to finish this.”
The armored Twilight turned to her, terrified. “We can’t! The missile strike is already inbound! I can’t—I can’t stop it! And if we change course—”
“We’re not going to change the course. Because we can’t leave it like this. I have to counterattack. Hold them off until the others can escape."
“But there’s no way you could get out in time!”
“And if we allow them to counteract, they’ll flank us.”
Celestia understood the defeated optimism of the statement. The enemy had already broken through where her sisters had failed to keep them contained. They were already flanked. It was everything they could do to keep the exit open. The artillery was depleted. All that remains were Lilly’s armaments, the ones that the technomacner had managed to steal. The heavy cobalt warheads that their enemies had themselves created.
“Then we kill them!” cried the Twilight, desperately. “We kill them all! We stand up and fight!”
“You and I could, but not them!” The white mare pointed at the retreating, unarmed ponies. “They nave no weapons, no tactical knowledge, they don’t even know where or who they are! NO! I have to cover them!”
“I’m not going to let you do that!”
Celestia turned to the violet unicorn. “Yes. You will.”
The Twilight shivered, grasping at her face in confusion.
“Lilly. I have to.”
“No! You need to survive! That’s all that matters! I’ll do it, if it’s that important!”
“Lilly...” The True Princess paused. “They...they killed him. Robert’s dead.”
Celestia heard the Twilight her screaming in rage, but she turned away. It was a sadness that she herself could not understand. Something a Celestia could not understand. They, unlike the others, had not been intended to experience love.
The True Princess removed her crown. A crown with a red gemstone. “Here,” she said. “Take it. You are their Princess now. Lead them. Protect them. I’m sorry.”
The Twilight was on the verge of collapsing. “I’ll never forgive you for this.”
The white mare smiled. “I know.”
Then she turned to them. Her elite units. The last of the Celestias.
More of their enemies came, and Celestia fell. She watched herself fall from a different set of eyes, horrified—and she saw that her leader was struck in the chest, barely managing to return fire as they charged the oncoming forces, holding them off long enough to allow the retreat.
“I love you!” cried Twinkleshine. “Please! Go! Save our people!”
Celestia awoke screaming, not knowing where she was or where her commander had gone. She tried to fire her weapons but could not get a response. All around her was crystal and color and things she did not understand. She did not know her name or who she was, other than the single, glaring word forced into her brain: CELESTIA.
“Sister!” cried Luna, terrified.
“Commander, commander I can’t track—I can’t track the—can’t compute—under heavy fire, the cobalt—there can’t be—I can’t be here!”
“TRIXIE!” cried Virginia.
“I’m compensating, but it’s faster than I am—hold on!”
“Diverting power,” said Yelizaveta, who had appeared beside them. “We have to pull the module!”
“I already did!” cried Virginia. “Celestia, it’s—”
“Lilly! Where—where is Twinkleshine?! Where is she, I can't be alone, I CAN'T!”
Virginia’s eyes went wide when she heard those names, and she seemed to become pale.
“SISTER!” shouted Luna, suddenly, with enough force that Celestia almost felt herself knocked back.
“Luna,” said Celestia, grasping her head. She was covered in cold sweat and wrapped up in a sheet, somewhere two floors above where hers was supposed to be in the castle. “I don’t—hold on—hold on—” She took several deep breaths, then collapsed on the floor, shaking.
“Sister!”
“Celestia!”
The four of them ran to her side.
“I...I don’t feel...good...”
“You’re going to be okay,” said Virginia, hurriedly. “Trixie’s already sealing the broken connections, and I’m on it too.”
“Luna…Luna, you promised...”
“I know, sister, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t—I couldn’t stop it.”
“What did you see?!” demanded Virginia. “What was in there!”
“STOP.” Yelizaveta pushed Virginia back. She stood silently, and slowly the others fell silent as well. The only sound was Celestia’s heavy, labored breathing. And even that began to slow to a normal pace.
Then, when she had mostly regained control of herself, Celestia spoke. “What...what was that?”
Yelizaveta turned to her, slowly. “We attempted to modulate a portion of your memory.”
“There was...war...and...and pain…and...” Celestia frowned, as the memories were already clearing from her mind. She could not remember anything from it. Only a Twilight named Lilly and a Twinkleshine who seemed so impossibly beautiful.
“What did you just try to do to me?” she demanded at last.
“We attempted to add a memory module. To attempt to re-train you about your former life. But it did not work.”
“What did I see? What the heck was that? WHY?!”
“We don’t know. It must have triggered something we did not expect.”
“You said the name Twinkelshine,” said Virginia, hurriedly but carefully, so that Yelizaveta would not shush her again. “And Lilly.”
“I...I don’t know why,” lied Celestia, shaking her head. “Twinkleshine is a little white mare that lives in Canterlot, she’s not particularly of relevance. And the Twilight...” Celestia’s mind worked quickly. “That name. It was something you mentioned before. That must have been where it came from.”
Virginia appeared somewhat crestfallen—but only slightly.
“What kind of memories...what kind of memories were you trying to put into me?”
None of them answered. Except Trixie.
“It was my idea,” she said. “It was a version of what they used on me. The module was a vector, though. It didn’t have anything in it.”
“What did yours have?”
Trixie’s smile grew. “Combat training.”
Celestia stood up.
“We did not give you combat training,” said Yelizaveta, defensively. She turned to Celestia. “It was a vector, meant to allow us to interact with your consciousness directly, so we could—”
“Yelizaveta. I do not want to hear it. I don't think you realize how horrible what you just did truly was. What you just did to me without even ASKING for permission."
Yelizaveta recoiled.
“Princess, we’re sorry—”
“You as well, Virginia. And you, Trixie, don’t lie. I know for a fact whatever you are doesn’t have volition or independent creativity. You just do what they tell you.”
“Ow...Trixie’s...Trixie’s feelings. Why, Celestia?”
Celestia felt bad, because she knew Trixie was not in fact joking—but she was angry and did not let her reluctance show through.
“I know you are trying to help. But for my own sake, warn me before you try something like that. I don’t remember what I saw in there, but I never want to see it ever again. I never want to FEEL like that again. Do you understand?”
Yelizaveta’s eyes met Celestia’s, and Celestia barely contained an inexplicable shudder. Then Yelizaveta turned slowly to Virginia, who likewise seemed to understand.
“Yes. I understand.”
