Author's Note

The first part of four. The next part will be about two weeks or so later.

Chapter 26 - Déjà vu (Part 1)

"Oh, there you are!" the purple dragon exclaims, looking away from the terminal. His green eyes with vertical pupils study us intently and intensely. Then he noticeably relaxes, covering his eyes slightly and sighing lightly. "Judging by your peaceful faces, the conversation ended happily," he smiles softly and shyly.

"Which I'm truly amazed by," I stare blankly at the point in front of me, still trying to comprehend what happened. "However, I realized my oversight, accepted it, and tried to explain it all away if possible."

"That was a shock to me... As was the fact that he was deliberately hiding something like that. But..." the pegasus blurs into a sympathetic smile, looking towards the dragon, "I decided to give him another chance after all, because there are too many things I like about him," she looks at me with her eyes covered. "It would be foolish to leave him just because of that mistake... albeit a major one... for me."

"Does lying make a big difference to you?" the dragon is curious.

"Yes," the pegasus replies without looking at him. "The only obstacle in any relationship is lying. To me, the most important thing about a pony is... and humans, for that matter," she hums, keeping her gaze on me, "is sincerity."

"Couldn't agree more," Spike nods his scaly head. "But... It's very difficult. Besides, not everyone likes to accept the bitter truth."

"No one likes to accept it, and neither do I," she turns to him. "However, that is no reason to avoid her." Hearing that, the dragon hums, then smiles widely.

"Good for you guys," he says favorably. "I wish you to find a strong love without lies or misunderstandings. It's nice to see that such strong and mutual feelings can exist in these harsh times. I'm even a little jealous," he embarrasses at the last.

"Thanks on the good word, Spike," Motley thanks timidly, then leans toward me and whispers: "Let's try to hug him from both sides."

My eyebrow reaches for the ceiling.

"Yeah," she continues in a whisper. "I can see he's big, but everyone loves a hug, don't they? I can guess he rarely gets friendly visitors. No one likes lingering loneliness."

Oh, right... How could I have forgotten its usefulness!

"Convinced," I reply quietly, then turn to the dragon and smile widely. "Come here, you big tough guy!"

The dragon is surprised for a moment, and then visibly flinches at the sight of the blue flash as I wrap my legs around his neck, settling on his shoulder. After recovering from the slight shock, Motley rises sharply into the air, flapping his wings, and flies up to the opposite shoulder, also hugging him.

"And may no one be unhugged," I add.

"You scared me for a moment," he utters.

"It wouldn't have been a surprise otherwise," Motley explains smugly.

We all burst out laughing in an amicable and friendly way. Of course, the dragon outdoes both of us in the volume of laughter: the sound vibrations he makes almost make my ears hurt.

"What wonderful ponies you are after all. Thank you."

"You're welcome," the pegasus replies cheerfully .

"Wait," the dragon suddenly grows wary. "You managed to master the teleportation spell?"

"Well, it's not like you're blind," I let go of the dragon and carefully jump off it. Motley does the same.

"Yeah that's more of a rhetorical question," he says embarrassed. "Very few ponies manage to master it. A true rarity."

"As is meeting with a dragon," I remark. "And a friendly one at that." Spike chuckles again, but this time shyly and more restrainedly.

"There really is something about you... that makes others smile," he says ambiguously. The pegasus looks at me with a smirk, tilting her head slightly to the side. I shake my head indulgently.

For the moment, I'm free of the oppressive anxiety I've been harboring about our relationship. I have no secrets to tell Motley that I would fear more than anything else in the world. The thought of it is heartening. I feel a lightness and joy. Like I've found my place in life.

"Despite the fact that you are sort of welcomed, especially by your... potential partner who has yet to get used to it, we still don't belong in this world. Hell, we haven't even figured out our reasons for being here! What if we don't belong here, what if for some reason we need to get out of here as soon as possible because this could cost us our lives? And anyway, this land will never be our home. Sooner or later you'll realize that and start to feel uncomfortable, like you're out of place."

An unsettling chill runs through my body, making me shiver. He's right about something. Frightening assumptions and hypotheses arise in my mind.

"What do you intend to do next?" the dragon asks, snapping me out of my troubled and burdensome thoughts.

I raise my head in surprise and look around, feeling my breathing quicken. Motley is looking concerned, touching me with a hoof. The only thing I'm aware of now is my emotional exhaustion and my subservience to anxious thoughts.

"If you don't mind," I begin slowly and uncertainly, and then continue in my usual friendly tone, "we'll take the keycard from you and go to sleep. The story I've told you about myself, and the emotions I've experienced today, have rattled my nerves. And yes, don't worry, we'll spend the night in our Vertibuck, and in the morning—or when we wake up—we'll go to the ruins of Canterlot to look for another keycard. So I think we should say goodbye now, so that tomorrow morning you won't be disturbed by a brief farewell visit or distracted from the business of observation, Watcher."

"Ugh..." the dragon sighs annoyed. "So eager to tell you about Equestria's past. It's not often I have guests with enough trust and friendliness to be here, and talking through sprite-bots sometimes makes it impossible to keep up a long conversation."

"We understand. It will be another reason for us to survive, to come to you and have another conversation. At least for that, I'll do my best." The words make him cheer up, anticipating our next meeting.

"Well... good luck to you then, and may the sun always shine on your road of life," he says, making a gesture with his right paw and pointing it somewhere upwards.

Spike kindly gives us the fourth purple-colored keycard, and we leisurely head over to Venture to get our sleeping place ready, before snuggling up tightly against each other and going to sleep.

***

When I open my eyes, I smell the fragrance of her brown mane. Motley is nuzzled into the fur of my neck and warms it with her breath, making the fur flutter with joy. My front leg under the blanket is tucked carefully under the pony's neck—apparently I did it instinctively in my sleep. So reluctant to disturb this sweet and blissful idyll; I just enjoy it further.

After a while, a familiar voice comes from under my chin, "What, did my embrace paralyze you?"

"Your aura is too heavy, that's why I can't move," I reply in a sleepy voice, floating somewhere in the clouds.

I feel a nasty push from the pony's side. I'm attacked by a dangerous contagion that immediately takes advantage of my vulnerable sleeping state and overpowers me, forcing my mouth wide open as I inhale deeply, quickly filling my lungs with vital oxygen, and then exhale loudly and long, as if on purpose. As expected—the pegasus shudders in surprise.

"Oh... Heavens," she utters with relief. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"I did it for pleasure." I feel a second nasty push in my side. "And actually it's to wake up sooner." Motley giggles. She shows her cute face, looks me in the eye, and smiles softly.

"Good morning," she says affably and reaches up to me and gives me a quick kiss.

"Good morning to you too, angel."

She climbs on top of me and uses her front hoof to thoughtfully make shapes on my chest, ruffling my beige fur. I'm lying there like a log, but I'm massaging her wings with my magic. She gasps, then mooed in pleasure.

"I love it when you play gently with my wings," she begins dreamily, "your mastery of telekinesis makes me shiver with pleasure. It's amazing that your world didn't have magic, and here you've mastered it so quickly."

"I'm amazed at this luck myself. I'm used to learning quickly, you know that. Superficial knowledge from different scientific fields allowed me to more or less understand the regularities and principles of the world's workings, and consequently, to learn more easily. Trying to keep my mind flexible."

"And how did you manage to become such a... relatively good shot?"

"Largely because of this," I lift my left leg, giving a demonstration of the PipBoy 3000. "PipBucks and Pip-Boys have the same operating concept, just with different components and parts. The aiming feature in both technologies speeds up the reaction, nervous system and thought processes in the head, making it seem like time slows down. Without that stuff, I couldn't have survived."

"I know about that," the pegasus smiles.

"So why do you ask?"

"I thought you'd have something else to tell me about your world."

"Is it really that interesting to you?"

"You bet!" the pony chuckles. "You know, I don't meet aliens from other worlds every day, not to mention they've hardly been anywhere on this planet at all." She hesitates, looking up somewhere. "I'm not so sure about that, though. Perhaps they were there before, but they hid their origins... Like you." She lowers her gaze and focuses it back on me. "How I love your wing massage..."

I direct my magic to the pegasus' rump and gently massage it—the pony sighs, languidly covering her eyes in pleasure.

"I know you like rump massage too," I smirk and lick my lips.

"I like to be watched... when I'm being gazed at or discreetly peeked at. But I only like to be touched by ponies close to me." Her eyes meet mine and she grins. "Anyone else who touches without permission, I at least knock out a few teeth: a kind of payment for the inconvenience."

I laugh.

"Yes, you can," I agree. "And yes, there will be plenty of time for me to tell you more about my world. If you can help me look like a normal, average pony here."

"That's going to be difficult."

"Why?" I wonder a little, not stopping to massage her wings and rump and feeling the growing arousal inside me.

"My King... You made such a fuss in Vanhoover that you can't be considered an average pony anymore," Motley remarks with a smile.

"Huh... Well... you know what I meant."

"Just wanted to make it a little clearer," she utters, shrugging innocently, and resumes driving her hoof across my chest. "Absolutely, I will help you. But before I continue... given that I feel something... hardness in my lower abdomen," she bites her lip lustfully, looking at me playfully with her multi-colored eyes. "Why do you call me an angel?"

"Ah... That. In an ancient religion of mankind, there were these beings that looked like humans, yet they possessed wings. They did the will of their God as messengers of good. Were pure... saints. Angels were always associated with something beautiful and divine."

"Oh..." she smirks, leaning toward me and running her tongue along my neck.

Goosebumps run through my body, and my member between her back legs tenses to the point of resting against the very bottom of her belly, two small hills.

"I don't fit that description," she adds with a gasp.

"And to you, what does that word mean?"

"Later," she reaches out in a whisper and encloses me in a lingering kiss, excitingly wiggling her pelvis.

A blissful shiver runs through my body, a sweet heaviness builds in my chest, and I roll my eyes in pleasure.

***

The steady hum and rumble of the propellers over the side of Venture, and the peaceful and soft vibration of the machine itself, accompanied us on our way to the ruins of Canterlot. Motley is fully immersed in the controls of the transport, and I am... immersed in my own thoughts, sitting close to the pilot's seat to recall everything I've learned about this place from my time in Tenpony Tower, reading the Wasteland Survival Guide, and talking to the lonely vagabonds in the forks of Manehattan.

Canterlot.

The grim, mysterious, and depressing ruins of the pre-war capital of a once great and prosperous country, about which many chilling legends have been told, many terrifying and mind-blowing myths have been created, and an incredible number of different mystical stories have been shared. There is no exact description or theories about what happens there, so you can not prepare for a trip to this place. Only presumptuous lunatics and foolish adventurers like myself would dare to visit such a cemetery shrouded in pink mist, relying heavily on luck.

Even though we know the location of the keycard and that we've only come for it, we'd still like to have a clearer idea of what's going on in this place that's as mythical as the 66. The ruins of Canterlot are certainly more popular with the residents of the Wasteland—especially among the uneducated, who make up the vast majority. Hence so many ridiculous and absurd stories. They cannot be trusted on this point. Even the Wasteland Survival Guide contains only popular hypotheses.

The Steel Rangers aren't saying much... I think only the Enclave should know anything about this place beyond legends and myths. However, if there was something substantial and important, Motley would certainly inform me. What if she had no interest in the place or just didn't remember?

"Angel..." I turn to the pegasus. Her gaze is staring straight through the cockpit glass at the distance ahead. On the control panel, all the gauges are within normal range. Everything is flickering lazily, clicking and beeping quietly. "I..." for some reason I'm having trouble phrasing the question. Perhaps it's because of the marvelous morning pastime. Or the peaceful hum and vibration of the transport is to blame—or perhaps it's the fact that it's hard to find a specific and clear question for ambiguous phenomena like Canterlot.

"What did you want?" Motley wonders casually after a brief pause, apparently not having waited for my words.

"Yeah... I thought about asking about Canterlot, but remembering how ambiguous the place itself is, I don't know what to ask first."

"You've been to a place like that. Serra-Made... Sirra-Mare..."

"Sierra Madre."

"Yep. Now, you ought to know more than I, since you have certain notions from experience with Sierra Madre, because of the the terrifying coincidences of your world and mine, which I don't even want to think about, to be honest," the fear and worry felt in her voice.

"Absolutely. But there is no magic in my world, I have to remind you, so these places may be outwardly similar, like lemon juice and urine, but essentially different. You were a member of the Enclave. The Enclave must be aware of this place."

"The Enclave keeps a lot of things from the public, and there are some that my father was executed as soon as he found out about them, making it look like he died in battle," when it comes to the Enclave, her voice rings with restrained rage. "I only know what you know. The Enclave is wary of this place like the Taint, but they keep an eye on it in case there's a threat to the pegasi."

"Nothing at all?" I annoyed.

"Well... You know about the basically immortal Canterlot ghouls, the corroding Pink Cloud, the mystical and murderous radio frequencies, right?"

"Quite a bit. Pretty much the same as the surface residents. But! I can say with certainty from experience that the fewer available explanations there are about anything, the more ridiculous and insane the stories about it. Therefore, they are not to be believed. Like the stories that some special spirit has taken up residence there in the form of this very Pink Cloud, stealing souls from those who come for their curiosity and greed. Like the White Demon in Vanhoover."

"The Enclave knows no more than that," the pegasus shrugs. "Because of the high threat level, they don't send scouting units there, despite the fact that the Ministry of Awesome is headquartered there, to which the Enclave has the most direct and close connection. That headquarters is the only thing that keeps them from bombing the place into dust with the guns of Raptors-class ships—Thunderheads-class in particular. It's enough for them that the place is avoided by everyone. Besides, destruction would draw unnecessary attention from the surface dwellers: they'll get scared and suddenly want to unite against the Enclave..." she shook her head. "Nah... The higher officers don't like that sort of thing."

"Remove the threat... simply by making it disappear with explosives," I chuckle.

"My favorite method," Motley agrees, and a shadow of a smile flickers across her lips. "Anyway, because of the high risk, they don't send anyone there. Not to mention the resources that would be needed for exploration and research."

I gaze thoughtfully at the approaching mountain on the slope of which Canterlot, the abode of two ageless princesses, was located; it reminded me of something.

"I hear the Goddess' alicorns have shown up there."

"That's right, they're mostly buzzing around the central areas, but for some reason they're failing miserably. All the alicorns in that place suddenly start resisting her. Perhaps it's because of the Pink Cloud feature that affects the Goddess's telepathic connection with the alicorns. All in all, riot, rebellion, chaos and anarchy."

The outline of the ruins shrouded by the Pink Cloud on the lonely mountainside becomes clearer. Conflicting experiences arise, forcing us to gaze intensely into these ruins, prompting another foray of reflection on their past.

I've heard of the Canterlot ruins. We all have, the legend, the curses. Foolishness about it lying in the middle of the City of the Dead, buried beneath a pink cloud. A bright, shining monument of the capital pre-war Equestria luring treasure hunters to their doom. The world's most famous tycoons and leaders of the state were lived there. Living there was a sign of... exclusiveness. The place was supposed to create a road to a brighter future and harmony, not just for Equestria... but for all who prove their dedication to peace and order. A chance for anyone to end the war. Except—the war didn't end the way everyone looking for. Canterlot froze in time, like a big flashbulb going off. Peace between the sides was achieved through total mutual destruction—one big ending of civilization. It's still out there, in the Wastes, preserved, just waiting for someone to reveal its state secrets to the world. But getting to it. That's not the hard part. It's letting go.

The cloud veil makes the Wasteland seem bleak and gloomy, but Canterlot makes it seem at least safe and even somewhat welcome and peaceful. The Pink Cloud that envelops this city seems ominous, hostile and menacing because of its naive and harmless hue, which brings death and cold terror rather than cheer and goodness—but at the same time, the cloud gives the ruins a beguiling mystery. The place where the ponies tried to stop the war—and ironically became complicit in it.

You want to avoid the place, but at the same time you're tempted to explore its enchanting secrets.

"Just like the cave where we found the sphere that brought us to this world. It's also like the ruins of the Sierra Madre with its Red Cloud. All that's missing is the radio broadcasts about starting over with a clean slate."

"Deja vu..." I utter unaccountably.

"What?" Motley, also gazing at the ruins, comes to her senses.

"Oh, nothing..." I say slowly. My attention is captured by Canterlot, "a foreign word that means a sense of similarity... as if you've encountered something like that before."

"Doesn't that apply to everything in this world? The Enclave... the Steel Rangers... Our worlds are similar."

"Yes... But..." I hesitate, for there is truth in her words. However, it's not like that at all. It's hard to pull my gaze away from the mysterious ruins. "Anyway, it's hard to put into words. Perhaps because Sierra Madre has left some peculiarly disturbing impression on me that I haven't experienced anywhere else. And here before my eyes is a similar place, only in a different world. Perhaps because of the, uh... the sphere I remembered a moment ago that brought me here."

I shrug off the compulsion, shaking my head.

"Anyway, land over there."

I point to a spot close to the keycard the tracking chip is pointing to.

"Good thing it's on the outskirts. I'll go and pick it up, then we'll get the hell out of here. Stable 66 was enough for me for the rest of my life," I add, swiping a hoof in the air at neck level to say I've had enough.

"Can you handle it?" Motley asks mockingly. "You seemed overly attentive, and your eyes devoured the scenery like that."

"Sassy..." I reply and suddenly I catch an unknown radio frequency on the spare PipBuck.

I want to check it out, focusing magic on the radio switch. The pegasus again speaks in that cocky tone, as if she caught me doing something naughty.

"You're not going to check the broadcast in Canterlot, are you? Surely you're not that stupid."

My lips press together tightly. There's a brief pause, as if I've lost touch with reality. The wild laughter of the other me reaches me.

"Didn't even think about it. Just wanted to check the map..." I lie innocently. Venture lands on a small patch of earth without a single scrap of vegetation on the inside of the massive white wall that shields the city from the rest of the world.

"Yeah, right," she turns to me, shaking her head with a victorious smile. I put on my helmet, hiding my embarrassment.

"Okay... Wait for me, I'll be right back," I utter quickly, opening the Vertibuck door and leaving the transport.

Stepping outside, I can feel the oppressive and gloomy atmosphere of the place. There's an overwhelming silence, broken only by the breeze that comes from time to time. Sometimes I feel like I can hear my heart beating.

I feel a growing anxiety as I gaze at the local dilapidated buildings with peeling white plaster, ceramic-covered roofs, and elaborately stoned roads and sidewalks that are trapped in an unnatural, mysterious, and ominous pink haze.

Oh, well... After hearing all sorts of ridiculous superstitious stories, it was eerie to look at the surroundings.

In addition I feel a feverish anxiety when I notice red or neutral marks popping up every now and then on PipBuck and Pip-Boy. I know that some types of hardware in this place are vulnerable to random malfunctions, but for both devices' compasses to fall victim to the Pink Cloud... Now there's no way of knowing for sure if there's a threat around the corner. I feel traitorous weakness and a desire to get out of here as soon as possible.

"Okay... Cut it out. Before Stable 66, you were pretty freaked out, too. And you know what? If you had remained focused on your feelings and worries, you would have died there. Don't let fear take control of you."

That's easy for you to say. You can, as if by magic, abstract yourself from the feelings overpowering me at the moment.

"Exactly! That's why I'm going to remind you not to be cowardly."

I gather my thoughts and walk confidently to where the tracking chip is pointing. It's annoying and unnerving to hear my hoofsteps in this silence, occasionally broken by the wind. Being in the ruins of Canterlot alone is uncomfortable.

"It all reminds me of the first time we visited Sierra Madre. When we woke up feeling the metal tie around our necks, stuffed with explosives. How we were Elijah's loyal and obedient dog, for we had no choice. Literally. However, we fell into this trap on our own initiative because of our curiosity about this mythical place, shrouded in mystery and obscurity. Now. Now we're making the same mistake. Do you think it will be different this time?"

I think you worry about our past more than I do. And yes, I think it will be different. In some ways the situations are different. I'm having trouble with my head, there's magic here, and we're in the body of a magical unicorn in a world of rainbows and pink fog. Besides, we came here with a purpose and we know where it is, we just need to take it and go.

"Don't you think it can't be that simple?"

Don't say that.

"And when did you become so superstitious? Being a pony, believing in all kinds of bullshit?"

There's magic and other kinds of different energies here that don't exist in our world... probably don't exist. It follows that any supernatural things we think may have a solid foundation.

"There is a limit to everything."

I approach the pointed place. It is one of the buildings on the outskirts of the city, having two floors. White paint on the walls, the gable roof is covered with dark red ceramic tiles. Other houses differ in roof color, and their roofs have different shapes, mostly varying in angle. The walls are in light colors, usually white, sometimes beige or yellow. However, due to the effects of cloud and time, they are noticeably worn and dull. The whole street ahead is dotted with dilapidated buildings, similar to each other in everything except the color and shapes of the roofs, of which nothing extraordinary stood out.

At first I think the keycard is inside this house, but as I zoom in on the card in the spare PipBuck, I see that it is nested outside, on the wall of the house. As I approach it and look up, I am perplexed. An unremarkable tarnished white wall. Only a huge loudspeaker sits in the corner, beneath the protruding ceramic tiles of the roof. I'm about to move closer to get a better look, but suddenly an alarming noise of interference reaches my ears. I get a sharp pain in my head...

Just in time to realize it, I stumble back. It's a working radio. Then it must be turned off. I don't have to shoot, because with my magic I can reach the switch from here in a heartbeat.

"How much trouble did a device like this cause us in Sierra Madre? A device that could easily detonate the collar and take our heads off. The white noise was so nerve-wracking until we spotted it... And here you can just magically reach in and turn it off without much trouble."

Don't remind me of those times so often. My blood runs cold and my body shivers as it is.

In here, a radio that's on and working is nothing more than a pain in the ass. Turning it off, I start fumbling for the keycard, peering once more at the card in the spare PipBuck. My eyebrows get lost somewhere in my hair—the tracking chip points to another place nearby.

What the hay is going on here?

My other me has nothing to say about that either. I stand frozen in bewilderment for a few seconds, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. The only thing I realize is that I have an unhappy feeling. I try to turn the speaker back on, keeping my eyes on the map in the spare PipBuck. Only the switch clicks as the tracking chip points back to its original location. I turn it off again, and the marker moves to where it was pointing before. I repeat the procedure several times, but the result remains the same.

That's odd. The chip doesn't malfunction like that. On the other hand, some hardware, like the compass, malfunctions by showing red or neutral markings in different directions. I've noticed that these marks appear on the side of the Canterlot ruins. On the opposite side there are none at all. The pink fog seems even thicker because of its new mystery.

I decide to check the other place the tracking chip is pointing to, and it's not far away either. And I don't hear or see anyone nearby—only dark silhouettes with the outline of ponies are visible at the end of the street. The thrill of just looking at them sharply broke through the ceiling of calm and courage... I'm reminded of Stable Sixty Six, which also encountered the vague appearance of a mare in a seemingly empty atrium. I hope I'm not dreaming this time, and it's just Canterlot ghouls who haven't noticed me yet.

No sooner do I get to the indicated spot than I hear the static again, and a sharp pain in my head. I step back and look around carefully. Soon I see an unremarkable radio receiver resting lazily and unconcernedly on a stone bench by the road; nearby are skeletons melted into the concrete of the sidewalk. It looks creepy and is only made more depressing by the realization of the nightmare that happened here two hundred years ago. The Canterlot radio frequency seems to be coming from it. I turn off this murderous sound repeater with magic to search for the keycard, and the chip on PipBuck's map immediately points to a completely different place, which is also nearby.

What in the world...

I repeats the on and off procedure multiple times, like with the speaker. The mark on the map keeps jumping from that radio on the bench to some other place nearby and back again.

I get annoyed and then something frightening comes over me. So much so that I lose my balance and fall on my butt. Everything inside me collapses and shatters all at once. A crazy, unfair and cruel assumption arises in my head....

"Yeah..." my other me suddenly says. "It seems that the frequency of the tracking chip is affected by the Canterlot radio frequency that passes through these radios. The chip mistakenly points to the nearest radio receiver that plays the local broadcast. Also, most importantly, it only means one thing..."

I want to scream with anger and frustration, to let my angry cry of hatred and despair spread to every corner of the Wasteland. I struggle to hold back, my body twitching.

"...means one thing—we'll have to shut down every working radio frequency receiver in the Canterlot ruins, and we'll have to do it until the keycard is in the vicinity."

***

"Motley... I think we have some quite a problem," my voice sounds frantic and anxious as I clumsily enter the vertibac.

"What's wrong?" she worries, sitting in the passenger seat with a book, which she immediately slams shut and sets aside.

"'Well.. Lady Luck got sneakily tripped up."

In a few minutes, I tell her all the details of the case that I was able to make clear to myself in the course of my reflection.

"Oh, heavens..." Motley whispers with fear in her eyes and a tremor in her voice. "And what... Are you really going to check every place in the Canterlot ruins that the tracking chip will point to?"

"Until we find a clue as to where to look for it. We'll take our time moving through the city toward the main castle, trying to avoid unnecessary scuffles with the local natives. I have no other option."

"Listen... why don't we just give up on the Dome? I remember you were looking for it for the purpose of finding long-distance teleportation... but... you told me yesterday that you're not from here. And... you said you wanted to return to your homeworld..."

"That's what my other me said, but yes."

"Well..." she lowers her gaze awkwardly. "You personally... still want to go back?"

I sigh heavily, then fall silent. An extremely awkward and tense silence hangs in the air. I don't know how to answer that question, for I'm still undecided myself.

"Look..." I begin with a struggle—she raises a concerned look. I move closer to her and take a seat. She is taller than me, however, for she is in the passenger seat. "I still don't know by what fates I ended up in this wonderful world of rainbows and unicorns. Until I find out the full circumstances of it, I can't be sure I can live the rest of my life here... with you. If the Dome is intact, or if it even retains certain technology or knowledge, it will be the most advanced information in this world. It's the only place where I can get a more or less clear picture of how I came to be here and how I came to be a pony. Plus. my other me won't leave me alone and will chew my brains out until we figure out the circumstances of our being here, much less the metamorphosis of the body. Yeah. Physiologically, no one noticed the difference between me and the other ponies, but still. What if I could be a threat to you or others? Do you realize the importance of all this?" I finish in a serious tone.

Motley looks gloomy and saddened to the point where I'm already regretting what I said.

"Yes..." she whispers through the effort.

A brief silence occurs, which I break first, gathering my thoughts.

"The importance is not so much in the Dome, but in what it can provide. And not just for me, but for everyone on the Wasteland. From what Spike tells me, that's clearly not a myth. He was close to those who planned it."

"Okay, I... understand all that," she sighs, still depressed. "It's just... I was already worried enough about you because of the 66. And after that, you were telling me how you quietly left the Capital Wasteland and New Peg... Vegas. You're so eager to find this Dome so you can leave the world without notifying anyone..." she adds, falling silent on the last words.

I gently place my front hoof on her leg and look into her eyes, filled with fear and worry. Taking a deep breath, thinking hard about what I'm going to say as softly as possible.

"The reasons I left were due to my lack of restlessness and finding something that would bring me peace and calm. Plus... the other me wants to come back very badly. It's complicated and confusing. But we'll leave that for later. Okay?" She nods hesitantly. "I understand your worries, but right now the ruins of Canterlot are on the priority. As soon as we find the keycard, we'll be right back," I chuckle. "Funny thing is, thanks to that same tracking shit, we won't miss the radio receivers or be influenced by them. Now... let's get ready and get everything we need."

***

With all the preparations done, we hit the road. One of the main points of preparation was to cast the protection spell on our armor and things that come in contact with our fur and skin. It should keep us away from the bonding effect for a while, and then we'll have to cast the spell again; I have a feeling we'll be tramping through the mysterious ruins for quite a while, and Pink Cloud will be our third companion for a long time.

Together we head into the abandoned ruins of the once beautiful city, scrutinizing the gloomy surroundings and listening to every slight rustle, because the identification systems of our equipment do not allow us to pinpoint the exact location of a potential flesh lover. Phantom targets appear from time to time, and it is not known what causes it. Only Motley's neutral mark is stable, and her systems and sensors are the same as mine.

The first thing we do is head to the group of Canterlot ghouls that hangs out at the end of the street where I found the radio on one of the benches. I realize it's a stupid idea to go directly to them, but I'm curious as to why they're clustered in one place.

We slowly make our way past abandoned houses with their doors open wide, metal light poles (one balloon-shaped lamppost on each), metal garbage cans, wrought iron gilded benches, lonely fire hydrants, scattered newspapers, alleys of withered once beautiful trees. Along the way one encounters the disfigured remains of unfortunate ponies melted into the sidewalk. To top it all off, it's all held captive by a pinkish light. Condensed clots of Pink Cloud are noticed on some surfaces. The whole gloomy landscape creates an oppressive and heavy impression. On one of the white faded walls of the house, a gnarled and ghastly inscription in dried blood that made me shiver, "NO NOISE!" came into my field of vision.

The impression made by the surroundings makes us shudder at every rustle or creak of doors and branches in the wind, as if it were an afterlife and graveyard wind that makes us shiver—despite the fact that we are clad from hoof to head in armor. I cling to every opportunity to take in my surroundings lightly to keep my cool. It worked in Sierra Madre, it will work here.

As we get closer, we see nothing remarkable or dangerous around us. The street paved with stone and pony remains that we are currently strolling along, enjoying the local unfriendly views, meets a street that runs at right angles. Amusingly, the chip points to this particular obviously unfriendly bunch of walking corpses that I've noticed from the start. So there's either the keycard hiding there, which is highly unlikely, or another radio transmitter. I whisper my thoughts to Motley, sneaking nearby.

"Most likely," she says over her helmet radio, still in thought, "there's a PipBuck on one of the ghouls with the Canterlot radio frequency turned on."

"Wait..." I slow my step. "PipBucks were used outside Stables before the war?"

"In Canterlot. They were incredibly expensive, so only the local rich could afford them."

I examine their front legs closely, and on one ghoul in ragged business outfit, I see a PipBuck.

"So..." I say quietly, stopping at the nearest corner of the house. "Let's not make a fuss with our weapons for nothing. Let's better not disturb their peace and go around them."

"Are you sure?" the pegasus expresses doubt, turning her head toward me for a moment.

The yellow compound-like eyes of her helmet make me shiver at times. She turns again to the ghouls at the end of the street.

"If we have to retreat, we'll be surrounded in a tight ring."

"We can fly away," I say. "They can't fly."

"There may be pegasi among them. Canterlot was not short of them."

"That's amazing," I look at the ghouls in shock. "It's like choosing between two piles of shit—you don't like them both. Still, let's look for another way, or we'll waste resources if we get into a fight."

We walk out into the backyard of a house with small flowerbeds and withered flowers in them. Motley helps me into the neighboring yard by lifting me into the air, because the stone fence is impregnable because of its height.

Surprisingly, much has been preserved here, with the exception of any vegetation: there are practically no rockslides. I also note the low concentration of Pink Cloud. Perhaps the outskirts of the city have very few of them, as well as the inhabitants. It seems to me that the ghouls will be most abundant where there's a lot of that pink stuff in the air. At least the ghost people of Sierra Madre dwelled where Red Cloud could be sniffed to death. It's handy for luring inattentive and reckless victims. But they were not ghouls, as they were here, so we could expect anything from the locals, even ritualistic dancing with drums to please their invisible deities and patrons, such as the image of Pink Cloud.

We pass by the empty house and go outside, carefully looking out and carefully looking around. The local view is no different from the one on the previous street. The tracking chip points to one of the houses in our field of view. It is the same style as the other houses, but has the peculiarity of having a tower several stories high above it. It looks like a observation tower or something like that.

With a leisurely and careful gait, I approach the house and try to peek through the surviving window with the open shutter. There's no one inside, and no sounds. I try the door with telekinesis: it's unlocked. We stand on either side of it, leaning against the wall; I use magic to gently push it inward. The door creaks nastily, and I hear the creature growl from inside. My heart thuds in my chest in surprise. I hold my breath.

Shit...

I instantly turn on the flashlight on my helmet, pull out my shock sword and activate the electricity in it—electric discharges of a bluish hue flicker along the blade, making a distinctive crackling sound—and dash inward, pushing the door open.

The hallway... At the top of the dark blue carpeted staircase leading to the second floor, the white-yellow light of my helmet flashlight reveals the outline of Pink Cloud's disfigured, evil victim, who has become one with his shirt and blue sweater. At my appearance, the dead pony rushes at me with predatory intent, but I am not a slow brahmin: I manage to point my electrified sword at his neck. The point angles into his neck and hits the back of his head with a sickening sound, but that doesn't stop him. A discharge pierces the ghoul's body, but he doesn't seem to care.

I hold the sword firmly with magic. The dead pony flails his hooves furiously, trying to reach me with animalistic fury. He's getting stronger—or maybe it's my grip loosening. Blackened teeth, ugly, shabby face... I can imagine the disgusting odor it gives off. The ghoul also has mesmerizing eyes with a mystical silver glow, but the gaze is completely blank and unemotional, which in this situation adds to the fear of something mysterious and unknown. The feeling of horror is heightened by the fact that with such a lifeless gaze, its ungainly snapping maw is trying its best to claw at me.

He's a tough bastard!

Realizing I can't hold him, I deftly step aside and draw my sword, before giving Motley the signal to attack.

The pegasus leaps masterfully and flies into the house, aiming her Pushy energy-magic knuckle at the bald head with its shabby skin. It strikes just as I yank my sword out with a sickening popping sound. The small blue flash forms near his head, but it doesn't tear it away from his body. The sonic boom tears some of the muscles in his cheek and abruptly turns the ghoul sideways, which leaves him disoriented for a moment. Thoughts of durability cause me to feel genuine fear.

They're so fucking hard nuts!

Motley seems to have expected a similar outcome: she immediately turns around, striking him next with her high-tech knuckle. This time I hear a disgusting crunch as his head turns backwards. The ghoul falls haphazardly to the wooden floor covered with a dark blue carpet. The pegasus strikes a third blow straight to the neck, turning it into bloody mincemeat. The knuckle are slick with dark pink, and the carpet in the light of my flashlight is saturated with thick blood spreading from the dead guy's mangled neck. Motley steps back, turning her helmeted head toward me with the flashlight on, illuminating me with yellow light.

"I remembered," her calm voice comes over the walkie-talkie, "that Canterlot ghouls possess a body that is incredibly resistant to various types of damage. They have powerful regeneration, so you have to intensely deliver blow after blow until their head flies off their shoulders."

'Yeah..." I say, coming to my senses from examining the thickly bleeding body." "They're really impressive. Their fellows in Sierra Madre aren't that tough," I ponder. "Be careful, though. There could be more ghouls here. But more importantly, there's a radio here."

I pick up the spare PipBuck and look at the digital map of the area.

"From the looks of it, it's quite close. Since we didn't get hit by it, that means it's somewhere in that observation tower. Can you stealthily get in the air and check it out?"

"Right away," the pony in black armor with a scorpion tail curling behind her says, and leaves the house. I look around the living room in the meantime.

It's a standard dark interior, with expensive and refined furniture, picturesque paintings, and a cozy fireplace. Looking closely at the paintings, I notice one thing in common—they all depict the starry sky: star clusters, individual bright stars, and nebulae.

I step closer. Unfortunately, time has not spared them, they are worthless. Different in style, each one signed with a name. Apparently, whoever lived here was into astronomy. That observation tower above the house could be the proof of it.

"I found it," Motley's voice suddenly comes from behind me through the external speaker of her helmet. My heart escapes in my hooves from the surprise, and I nearly jump to the ceiling. I turn around. "Right on the observation deck. Regular radio," she adds.

"Fuck, Motley!" I swear with incredible relief. "Don't scare me like that." In response, already on the internal radio, her victorious laugh rings out. Obviously she did it on purpose.

"Don't let your guard down," she says innocently. "Great way to remind you of that, even though you know I'm covering your... rump. After all, I can miss the danger, too."

"I'll agree with her on that one. It's obvious: when you have someone around you, for example, charming people, you relax and let your guard down. That's why you make mistakes," the other me agrees snidely. No matter how hard it is to admit it, there is some truth in his words. "Relationships make you soft. Overly frivolous."

"Lesson learned," I say out loud. "Let's go outside, you lift me into the air, and from a safe distance I can knock out that radio."

Motley lifts me up so I can get a good look at the source of the radio trouble. The observation deck is unroofed and is flanked by stone railings. There are wooden deck chairs and armchairs, and a large telescope mounted on three legs. The radio is on the chaise lounge. I turn the switch, securing us from the killer radio frequencies in this house. Motley lowers me back to the entrance.

Now that we've visited the building, why not look around a little more closely and thoroughly.

There's not much to see on the first floor, so we're off to explore the second floor pretty quickly. There's a lot to see here.

Apparently, it's the home of some astronomy teacher. The fact that he is a teacher is evidenced by methodical books approved by the state educational agency, a stack of notebooks with checked homework. Most of the grades were low.

I take it few ponies in Equestria were interested in astronomy.

The workroom with its many star charts, measurement devices and tools, fancy instruments, graphs and calculations of distances, locations, luminosity, brightness of stars and other cosmic objects tells of the profession.

The moon and sun revolve around the planet. They are remarkably the same size, yet are at different distances from the planet. The Moon is closer than the Sun. The laws of the universe here are different from those of my world. Maybe that's why I turned into a handsome stallion.

The final thought elicits a doomed sigh from the other me.

On the light blue wall hangs a physical map of the entire planet Equus. It's preserved quite well, allowing me to see the details of the terrain—and there's a lot to ponder. I find a wooden chair and sit down. Motley just takes a seat on the floor with her rump in her power armor.

"How much do you know about our world?" she asks curiously through the helmet's external speaker, looking with me toward a large map with Equestrian names and a measuring system. I'm sure other intelligent races have named certain objects and parts of the world in their own ways, given their diverse cultures, customs, worldviews, beliefs, and languages.

"Something I know from the Wasteland Survival Guide. Something from the inhabitants. Something from you, something from Professor. I know a bit about the main divide between zebras and ponies. At first it was a disagreement over gems and coal, and then it evolved, in part, into a well-established conflict involving Princess Luna, the source of the zebras' wrath. Those saw her as the Child of Stellar Evil, for Nightmare Moon was a part of her... and something like that. The zebras have a prejudiced and superstitious attitude towards anything to do with the stars, which in turn annoyed the ponies as they worshipped their star princess. Even humans saw the appearance of comets in the starry sky as omens of trouble, plagues, and so on."

"The essence of the conflict is aptly named, but there are many subtleties. I told you once."

"I remember. And Professor recently fleshed out the information."

A physical topography map of the planet Equus, which is about half the size of Earth according to a recalculation in US metric systems, shows two continents: the western one is called Eclipse, and the eastern one is called Solstice.

To the west of Eclipse and to the east of Solstice stretches the incredibly vast Desert Ocean, with high magical instability at its center. The Sapphire Sea spreads between the continents; Eclipse and Solstice in the northern parts converge closest. And it is in the north of this sea that huge monsters have arisen after the fall of the megaspells, which are at war with dragons over areas of high magical instability.

Equestria occupies two-thirds of Eclipse, namely the central and southern parts, while the northern part is predominantly studded with mountain ranges where griffons nested.

Along the entire western part of Eclipse, a mountain range called the Road of Stars runs from north to south. The highest mountain in Equestria goes by the name Sky Point. It is located in the center of the Road of Stars, near Stalliongrad, which is now home to the strongest Steel Ranger division. The middle is covered by the Great Deserts, where a second concentration of high magical instability has arisen. Huge worms and shit.

In the Sapphire Sea, in the northern part of the sea south of the high magical instability stands the massive Lava Island, occupied by dragons. To the south of the sea roams the same fast-moving Yellow Fog, as if it possessed a living mind.

Half of the eastern continent of Solstice from the center and north is mottled with mountain ranges, while in the south are plains at about sea level. Based on this, it can be assumed that there is a tropical and humid environment there, much like the southeastern part of Eclipse and Equestria in particular, since they are at roughly the same latitudes and sea level. In the east of this continent, the Tartarus with its ancient high magical instability sits in the center. To the east of it begins the Desert Ocean.

Tartarus is suspiciously close to the Desert Ocean. The two high magical instabilities happened to be in the neighborhood.

To the south of the same continent, as if in sad loneliness, there is an island that is slightly inferior to Lava Island in terms of area—Eris Island.

"So, is our world to your liking?" Motley reminds me as I peer at the wall map.

"Definitely. If I don't find answers in the Dome, I'm going to start looking into high magical instability."

"Why it?"

"There's nothing else to it. They're powerful, unpredictable... Who knows what power lies hidden within them? Their capabilities are unexplored. Maybe I can use it to get home somehow."

"That's an absurd thought."

"Anything is possible. I'm in a world of colorful and peaceful ponies."

"Interesting ideas among humans. Well, let's not stay too long," she rises.

I'm still pensively looking at the map of Equestria.

There are major cities north of this desert area in more temperate climates that had a million or more residents: Manehattan and Trottingham on the east coast, Fillydelphia to the south and southwest of them respectively, Hoofland on the west coast—and that's the closest city to Vanhoover, which is directly to the south. Vanhoover, by the way, is not on this list of northern giant cities, nor is it populous: up to half a million lived in and around it before the war. Canterlot is also on the sidelines, as it had a population of barely a hundred thousand. In the same part of Equestria is Ponyville, Old and New Appleloosa, the Everfree Forest, the Splendid Valley...

My gaze slid over the lower part of the continent.

South of the desert zone, there are roughly twice as many cities and towns in similarly temperate and even—in some places on the east coast—tropical climates. There are as many as eight names on the list of giant cities in the southern part of Equestria.

Stalliongrad, located on the west coast islands near the desert zone. Exactly east of it, Sun City was located behind the Road of Stars in the central part of the mountain range, and even farther away, on the eastern coast of the Sapphire Sea, was Baltimare. The current center of world trade that Red Eye had his eye on. It is home to the weakest division of the Steel Rangers.

To the south of Baltimare, along the eastern coast of the shrinking continent, are Hoofington, Hornville, and Rainport. In the central part, south of Sun City and about north of Rainport is Flankfort. On the west coast near the shores of the Desert Ocean, far south of Stalliongrad, is the last city of millions, Tailslfield.

In addition to them, however, five other towns scattered throughout Equestria are highlighted in special font: Cloudsdale, in the north; Las Pegasus, over the west coast near Hoofland; Wingside, south of Trottingham, over the desert zone, partially touching the Great Deserts area; Wind Louis, near Sun City; and Skyrock, roughly between Tailsfield and Rainport, but east of the Road of Stars.

Cloudsdale and Wingside are destroyed during the fall of the megaspells.

"Danny, did you fall asleep?" Motley asks, standing near the bookshelves.

"Huh? No..." I get up from my chair and walk over to her. "I have a question regarding the calendar. How come there are exactly twenty-eight days in each month?"

"Princess Luna and Princess Celestia could influence the movement of the moon and sun. They once standardized the order of day and night and created a new calendar. For so long, it was as if the Sun and Moon had gotten used to moving in concert with their calendar."

"And before that, they moved inconsistently and differently than they do now?"

"Yep. It's just not known whether that was originally the case, or whether something else disturbed their motion in the vacuum, causing them to lose their... balance, shall we say, sometimes moving quite unpredictably. If you want to know more, get the books from here."

"I don't know if I'll have time to read them. But you're right. Who knows, they might come in handy for something or someone."

I run my eyes over the spines of all the books. The variety is astounding. Many books devoted to mythologies, legends, and cultures with their specific relationship to the stars: 'Ancient Pegasi and Their Vision of the Second Heavens', 'The Unicorns Inspired by the Stars', 'Seeing the Stars Through the Eyes of Griffons', 'Evil Spirits of the Space. Notes of the Zebra Alchemists', 'The Night Guardians', and things like that.

Other books are manuals, scientific papers and textbooks approved by the Ministry of Image and the Equestria Council of Education in the field of astronomy with various facts, experimental results, tables, analyses, measurements and mathematical calculations concerning the motion of space objects, the nature of stars, the structure of planets, the nature of vacuum and so on.

Other books are near-scientific treatises not only in the field of astronomy, but also many others: 'Gems and radiation', 'Astrophysics for Ponies in a Hurry', 'Control of the Sun and Moon. What are the pitfalls?', 'Equusopology. In a Nutshell on the Roots of Ponies', 'Impossible Alchemy', 'The Origin of the Elements of Harmony', 'Discord from Tartarus?', 'The Crystal Empire: Truth or Myth?' and the like. The rest are devoted to esotericism, philosophy, the subject of existential purpose, the meaning of existence and typical near-religious stuff.

"There's such an array of unusual books here..." I utter under the impression, touching the spines as if I'm touching the history of this world.

"Brisa would have loved it. Such a plentiful supply of a wide variety of reads that even we are caught up in awe."

"I think the brightest and best minds here have been grappling with the questions of how to end the conflict and come to universal peace."

"The answers to such questions," she reflects, glancing back and forth at me and the books, "could even be found in myths. No, not like that... I'd say it's very likely that mythical and exotic books could have prompted interesting thoughts, made us reevaluate history in retrospect. Myths and superstitions provide insight... how different races used to view the world around them. Even the ramblings of lunatics can sometimes provide interesting food for thought. To see the world from different perspectives, so to speak. The broader one's view of the world, the better one understands how it works, as well as the behavior of intelligent beings. I suspect one can get to the root of any social problem in this way."

"Agreed. I usually do this kind of retrospective work on myself and my past, thinking it over with updated knowledge and hoping to discover something new. Or answers to my questions," I say thoughtfully.

I fix my gaze on one of the books—The Crystal Empire: Truth or Myth? The hardcover is completely covered in an image of bizarre large crystals; on the spine and at the top of the front in an indented, elegant font that shimmers in all the colors of the rainbow, unknown to me, is the title of the book.

"The Crystal Empire... I have heard of it many times."

"I am familiar with this book. A fellow student once gave it to me to read during the academy," she recalls as I open the book.

The author is Cherry Eyes. That's a curious name.

"Crystal Empire. How many legends and myths lie behind those two words is hard to imagine. Thousands of years before Celestia's reign, there were many of the most unimaginable and outlandish tales of a mysterious place washed over by the Desert Ocean. You've probably heard of the chaos of weather anomalies and other magical quirks that reigns at the center of the ocean, preventing you from exploring it? Sometimes this complex of anomalies is referred to as high magical instability. Many hypotheses and assumptions claim that what is happening there is the consequences of some nightmarish cataclysm of incredible scale on the third continent, the existence of which is also unconfirmed. We are interested in only a few of them...

Ancient images and texts of quite primitive nature tell of the existence on this unproven third continent of a once beautiful empire of crystals, whose pony-like inhabitants managed to discover the power of magical crystals and gems. At some point, they wanted more—and paid the price for their daring and ambitious experiments. Let's go through this stack of myths and legends left by our ancestors, as well as consider all the hypotheses, assumptions, scientific knowledge about radiation and the results of archaeological research".

In general, after using powerful megaspells that triggered the appearance of high magical instability, the Sapphire Sea and the Great Deserts really started to have similar shit happen. Maybe this Crystal Empire thing isn't such a fantasy? Megaspells can't do without gems and crystals.

There's a difference between crystals and gems. Crystals are thousands of times less common—and they don't emit the radiation that gems do during decay. I have no particular desire to investigate the credibility, or at least the believability, of local legends outside of the Dome. Not yet. Besides, one book isn't enough. What the past world had in mind, what its goals were besides ending the war, is enough for me.

"Funny..." I close the book softly and place it in my bag, "humans have something similar. Atlantis. Though, I don't remember much about it."

"Funny coincidence indeed," she laughs.

"And what's the third continent?"

"Another myth intimately connected to the Crystal Empire. The last one existed on it. According to some speculation it was supposed to be in the Desert Ocean." She slowly turns her head toward the relief map. I look at it as well, keeping thoughts of this place in my head. "The islands in this ocean may be the remnants of this continent. Some say it was destroyed by a cataclysm, others say it still exists, it's just in the depths of high magical instability that we can't get to."

"The discovered islands... are right on the edge of high magical instability. I agree, they hint at the presence of another continent. Though I wouldn't have noticed this... rather far-fetched pattern if you hadn't told me. Is there a lot of magical energy on the planet according to you—or according to the scientists of the Enclave?"

"Equus, as I recall, has a vast pool of magical energy in the depths. Tens of times more than the Sun and Moon contain combined. I don't know how gravity works for you, but for us, it's the amount of magical energy that counts. And the greater the concentration, the stronger the gravity. I haven't really looked into it, since that kind of astrophysics isn't my thing."

"We have the Sun tens of thousands of times the size of our planet. And it's the planet that revolves around the Sun, not the other way around. That's already contrary to my astrophysics."

"But our worlds have many similarities..."

"Yeah... For example, the term 'angels'. By the way, you never told me what it means in your world," I say, putting the last book I'm interested in into my bags.

"It's nothing much," the pegasus says, waving a hoof. "That's what the ancient language of the pegasi called the status of the most trusted protectors of the highest leaders and aristocratic nobility, as bodyguards. With the arrival of Celestia and Luna, that status was abolished, for with their arrival, the country had little conflict, as well as between the ponies. The Doctrine of Friendship. The word 'angel' from then on gradually began to be used as a name, or referred to those who could be trusted. I thought you knew the meaning of the word, so you used it as a reference to me, referring to the fact that I'm a pegasus... Though sometimes I thought you said it in an ironic sense, since you don't trust anyone one hundred percent."

"As you can see..." I laugh, "it turned out to be much more interesting than that. I called you that because you're the first pegasus in Equestria I've ever seen live. I associate creatures with wings with either birds or angels."

"What about Ditzy Doo? She's a ghoul, but she's a pegasus..."

Don't ruin the moment. Ditzy Doo is a pre-war pony.

"You're clearly obsessed with young female pegasi."

"Shall we look around from the observation tower?" the pony suggests after a brief silence.

"Why not?"

Motley and I step out onto the tower's observation deck, blown by faint wind currents, which is reached by a spiral staircase with neatly hewn stone steps. The telescope at the top needs fixing, calibration, and new optical lenses, so it's unfortunate that I can't admire it. I could have sworn I could have watched the windows of the surrounding houses from here.

''You have a view of a dead city with a gloomy atmosphere of doom and the devastating Pink Cloud in front of you, and you're still thinking about peeking out... You and Motley are of the same mind, though; she wants to be peeped at or watched... in a sexual way."

I have nothing to say to that. He's right.

Motley and I gaze out at the bleak and dangerous ruins around us, sitting at the stone railing. In the distance we can see the magnificent spires of the main castle, which in relatively peaceful times was home to the elite of the state responsible for this whole apocalypse. It's all on their heads. I can't imagine what it's like to be responsible for a planetary-scale disaster.

Sights like houses with special architecture, other towering towers, and silent monuments peek out in different corners of the ruins of the city.

Thoughts and visions of what a grand and unforgettable place this colorful city used to be unwittingly sneak into my head. There is an aching desire to see it in pre-war times, to eat in the local eateries, to visit the stores, the sights, to stroll its streets and enjoy the quaint local architecture without fear of being eaten alive by disfigured ghouls.

The muffled noise of gunfire dispels my illusions and brings me back down to earth.

"As I see it," the pegasus, apparently also given to visions of the city's former glory, says, "the crazies continue to visit this place in search of ancient treasures."

"Just like us. I wish I'd seen this city before the war. Without that Pink Cloud." I cover my eyes dreamily.

I try to re-imagine the local vistas in warm sunlight against a cloudless blue sky, without the oppressive and deadly pink haze.

"I couldn't agree more," she utters in a excited voice, snuggling up to me. "It would be wonderful."

We sit in silence for a while, indulging in sweet fantasies of the past. I look up and see only gray-pink clouds. No birds, no insects, no wildlife. Only the dark silhouettes of the walking dead, standing silently in the midst of the lifeless ruins, in which occasionally passes a dreary wind... The haven of Death itself. I close my eyes as I suddenly feel a growing sadness and bitterness.

***

As I make my way through the silent streets to the next location pointed out by the tracking chip, I find myself on the opposite side of the street, in front of a two-story house whose first floor wall has collapsed, providing an additional way in.

The house attracts me with another ominous inscription, written to the left of the gaping hole, also in dried blood, but in a different writing, "THEY HAVE EYES ON THE SHUTTING". The warning makes me shiver. I stop and try to make sense of it, staring blankly into the gap in the faded white wall.

A paralyzing fear grips me: in the darkness of the hole, the body of a Canterlot ghoul stands silent. A closer look at its outline horrifies me even more. The barely perceptible silvery glow of the body is staring straight at me. Everything around me is frozen: I can hear myself breathing, afraid to take every breath. Motley has gone forward: noticing that I've stopped, she turns around.

"What's wrong?" she asks worriedly. My words get stuck in my throat. "Danny?" the alarm in her voice grows.

"Don't... move..." I squeeze out in a whisper, completely forgetting that no one can hear us over the helmet's internal radio.

"Why?"

"A ghoul... in the darkness... is looking... at me..." I say slowly, pausing between words.

Thoughts of the inscription I saw a few moments earlier throw me into confusion. I try to regain my self control with other thoughts.

He's looking at me. At least his gaze is directed in my direction. What is he waiting for? They have eyes in the back of their heads... figuratively speaking. What the hell is going on here?

As I ask these questions, I can feel the fear fading away. It's replaced by curiosity and interest. Maybe he can't see me, but that goes against the writing on the wall. Something's wrong—or I don't understand something. Motley waits.

"What do you intend to do?" the pegasus' voice is pleasant, despite the worry.

Her voice helps me gain control of my emotions and body, allowing me to slowly and carefully lift my front right leg. Holding my breath, I watch intently for the ghoul's reaction in the house, as if there is no one else around but us. It's just me and him.

"Honey, what are you..." she waves in bewilderment.

"Shh," I interrupt softly.

She falls silent. There is absolutely no response from the ghoul. I decide to up the ante and take my time getting up to speed. Same result—zero attention. Unfortunately, from this distance I can't even hear his breathing, which makes me doubt his ability. What if he's already fallen completely off his hooves in this standing posture?

His emitting silver glow, his lifeless pupils are pointed in my direction with a blank stare. I take a deep breath before my last, most daring and silly attempt... and begin to dance. The next moment, before I could comically twitch my legs in an attempt at a cheerful dance, I hear a vicious snarl as the ghoul rushes at me with predatory eagerness.

I'm unprepared for this sudden change of scenery, which makes me falter for a moment, but I rush into the nearest alley and draw my sword. Motley also—apparently from my silly act—seems to have fallen out of reality, but follows me the next second, preparing the sting of the Enclave's power armor for battle.

The alleyway is where we take on our shortsighted—literally—dead pony. Since the pegasus is the first on his path, she is the first to strike the stinger in the neck, after which I, with the help of VATS, with a slick sideways swing of my sword at the exact same spot. The dead pony's head flies off his shoulders, splattering dark pink blood, and, flying past me, falls with a thud onto the paving stones in the alley, rolling on them, making several turns. His body rolls by inertia, following his head.

"He obviously didn't like your dance," Motley says thoughtfully, looking at the decapitated body of Pink Cloud's victim.

"My skillful wielding of the sword made him lose his head, though."

A tinkling laughter sounds over the radio. At this moment, I'm analyzing the information I've experimentally obtained about their perception, or at least one aspect of it. Trying to piece together this curious puzzle by logical analysis.

"From this we can deduce," I continue, pondering and looking at the corpse.

The silver glow has disappeared from the eyes of the severed head. The gaze after death is the same as it was while alive... The thought of it echoes in me with a heavy impression.

"I was walking at a leisurely pace in front of that house. They don't notice slow movements, but if you make a sudden movement, you become the center of their attention. If they react that way, what does the writing on the wall that says they have eyes in the back of their heads mean?"

"Probably someone was trying to mislead you. There are quite a few traps like that in the Wasteland, luring victims into dangerous places to then rob their corpses."

"That's understandable... But something tells me there's more to the metaphor than that. Hmm... All right, let's go. Let's look for more loners and experiment with the limits and possibilities of their enigmatic perception. I believe this information will prove to be quite useful."

***

We wasted no time when we had an opportunity to test the ghouls' perception of the surrounding world when the radio transmitters were switched off. Experimentally, we managed to find out the meaning of the phrase 'THEY HAVE EYES ON THE BACK', which we met more than once on walls and stone fences, written in the same characteristic writing. It means that the ghouls, if we approach them from behind, will still notice us from a certain distance—even if we don't make the slightest sound.

This rule works even when they're looking directly at us: I took incredibly slow steps toward them while in their line of sight, but only at a certain point did I become the object of their interest. If we make sudden movements without making too much noise behind them while outside this static detection radius, they don't notice it, as they should, but if I levitate objects very slowly towards them, crossing the boundary of the detection range on either side, they immediately shed their indifferent outlook.

We do not wish to test their auditory perception, but even this information is sufficient for safe progress through the ruins. We now know that we can walk in full view of them without fear of being eaten alive by the whole crowd, but only if we walk slowly, without noise, without sudden movements, and without crossing the detection range. Detection range—that's what I call it.

On more than one occasion, we've seen swarms of Canterlot ghouls huddled around loudspeakers on street corners. Based on our observations, we can assume that Canterlot ghouls get high not only in places with a dense concentration of Pink Cloud, but also near the devices that broadcast this mystical and murderous radio frequency. In some unknown way they find it very attractive, as attractive and desirable as strawberry dessert is to me. But why some of the ghouls are on their own in ordinary dwellings without a high Pink Cloud cluster and out of earshot of the Canterlot frequency is not entirely clear to us.

I also noticed one curious yet frightening similarity: the detection range is exactly the same as that of the Canterlot radio frequency. This gives rise to some very vague and disturbing thoughts, to which we are already subjected because of the depressing atmosphere of the lifeless ruins.

We walk slowly down the wide street closer to the walls of the oblong tall structure that PipBuck notes as 'Celestia Museum'. Metal, ornately patterned fences of flower beds and silent driftwood serve not only as decoration, providing gloom and bleakness to this once-great museum, but also as a small cover for us.

As we make our way along the walls with powerful decorative columns and hide behind the beds of deadwood, I notice that the tracking chip repeatedly changes the location of a point on the map, but during these 'jumps' they always point to the museum building. This suggests that there are several working devices inside at once, broadcasting the Canterlot radio frequency. Either way, it's an unusual location. Maybe we'll find the fifth keycard in there. So Motley and I decide to check out the museum. Funny thing is, the chip is pointing to the other keycards outside of Pink Cloud correctly.

As we approach the large entrance, we see a stone statue in the shape of a winged unicorn in a royal pose in front of the main doors. I take it this is Celestia. I don't want to look at the plaque on the opposite side of the entrance: it might attract the attention of more than one pack of Canterlot ghouls nearby. Surprisingly, there are as many of them as sand in the sea, so attracting them is deadly. We head inside the building, one of the doors open.