Zipp Storm yawned as she trotted into the palace foyer. Flight practice always kicked her flank, doubly so during today's biting cold. Supposedly, ancient pegasi had fancy techniques to control the weather. Would be nice to still know those, since this snow wasn't likely to let up before Hearts And Hooves Day. And yet, the New Wonderbolts were still rediscovering synchronized flying. It'd be a good few seasons before the team could coordinate moving clouds around. When you rush to replicate the past, mistakes happen. Modern ponies had to temper their ambition.

For Zipp, tempering her own ambition meant walking a block to the Zephyr Heights royal district instead of flying several miles back to the Brighthouse. Not this late in the day, and not in this weather. The luxury suite of her old room was calling her weary name. Best to relax after a good workout, and she knew no better way than checking to see if Sunny had posted a new Mane Six video.

Extending a pleasantly aching wing, Zipp scooped her phone off the charging table she'd left it on. A notification blinked brightly: "Unwatched Upload."

"Yes! Hope this one's about Rainbow Dash!"

Zipp's nose tapped the play button near the thumbnail of a manticore. She watched as she ascended the central staircase, witnessing shaky hoofheld footage of the beast. It was in a den of some sort, hibernating for the winter. Zipp didn't have a great eye for botany, but moss patches on the walls matched the type that grew in the woods near Maretime Bay. Indistinct whispers accompanied the footage, and Zipp slowed her climb to listen better.

"Trot closer so I can get a good shot." Sunny's bubbly voice was unmistakable, even while hushed and tense. Following her orders, a pink and yellow pony crept into frame, fake wings rustling with apprehension.

"Closer," Sunny's whisper encouraged as her phone camera went in and out of focus.

"Just snap the pic so we can bail," the yellow pony hissed. "I'm not taking another step towards that bucking thing."

"Fluttershy doesn't swear, Posey. C'mon, you're already dressed the part, so acting should be easy."

"Act the part? Why would... wait, ARE YOU FILMING? I THOUGHT YOU JUST WANTED A PHOTO!!"

The manitcore roared to alertness, and the feed promptly cut to selfie angle of two mares fleeing. Sunny was laughing and mugging to the camera. Posey was doing neither.

Zipp chuckled as she turned the corner into the bedroom hallway. Sunny had certainly earned a Like for taping something so reckless, so Zipp touched her nose to the screen once again, adding her vote of approval to seven hundred thousand others. When she pulled back, she saw Sunny back at the Brighthouse, reading aloud from a book allegedly written by Fluttershy herself. Zipp was only half-listening now that the manticore part was over. It seemed to be boring but practical advice about Winter Wrap-Up and approaching magic animals in the wild. Whatever. The only thing Zipp planned on approaching was a pillow fit for a princess.

She clicked off her phone and made for her bedroom. Yeah, today's vid hadn't been Rainbow Dash, but there was always tomorrow. Sunny was killing it lately. The burnt cupcakes and exploding apples had been charming in an amateur-ish way, but after that came a Rarity-styled fashion showcase. Very glitzy, thanks to Izzy's input. Enough to hold even Zipp's tomcoltish attention. Today's vid was yet another jump in production, with Posey's restyled hair a perfect match to all those historical pictures of Fluttershy. The beauticians at Mane Melody must have really been on the ball, since Pipp wasn't at the salon this morning to provide pointers.

Now that Zipp thought about it, her sister had been pretty scarce lately.

Zipp's paused in front of her bedroom. Heavy snowfall was hitting the castle roof, but it wasn't the only sound. Down the hall, from Pipp's old suite, muted music could be heard through the door.

She was being nosy. Zipp knew that. But Pipp never just cloistered up like this. The longest Zipp's sister had ever been radio silent was for a full day last year. After which she'd emerged with a triumphantly edited music video just in time for their mom's birthday. It wasn't mom's birthday today though. And Pipp hadn't posted anything since... (Zipp pulled her phone back out to double-check) an update textpost at the start of the week.

Phone down again, Zipp made her way down the hall. Perhaps a post-workout nap could be bumped down on her to-do list. More pressing was following her Big Sister instincts.

"Pipp?"

She knocked gently. When no answer came, she knocked again.

"Pipp?"

"Agh! What is it?!"

Zipp flinched.

"Can... Can I come in?"

When the room's occupant didn't deign to answer, Zipp bit her lip and pushed the door open.

The droning music was coming from Pipp's phone, plugged into a bedside speaker. Zipp recognized it as part of the Mane Melody waiting room playlist. The disposable type of pop that was only good for background noise while a pony was working on some task that was equal parts numbing and lengthy.

Pipp Petals, lying prone on the carpet, was engrossed in one such task. Her forehooves pounded away on the keys of an old laptop. One that Zipp hadn't seen since the two of them were in middle-school. Pipp was a fast typer even back then, but years of sending texts and tweets had made her the quickest keystroker in Zephyr Heights. Her dull, sleep deprived eyes flickered up from the obscured screen, noting Zipp idling in the hallway. The Pipp returned to her regular see-saw of attention: first the laptop screen, then a big open book by her elbow. Then back to the laptop screen. Then back to the book again. All while the typing and background music carried on. She'd offered no greeting, and didn't seem to be formulating one.

Zipp reckoned she should stop her lip-chewing and break the ice.

"H-hey girl, how's it goi-"

"Me? Great. Just peachy. I'm on that sigma mare grindset. Or whatever the kids say these days." Pipp's tone was chipper. Too chipper. And she hadn't slowed her typing. Zipp reclined against the doorframe and did her best to radiate calm.

"That's... good to hear. Whatcha workin' on?"

"A project."

"I guessed that, yeah. What kind of proj-"

"You're in Zephyr Heights cuz of flight practice, right?"

Zipp was taken aback. Either Pipp was desperately deflecting, or she'd spontaneously begun caring about Zipp's sports schedule for the first time in either of their very different lives. Zipp dared to hope it was the latter.

"Y-yeah. It's a long flight back to Maretime Bay, so I was just gonna crash here tonight. Ya know, the New Wonderbolts are getting good enough to maybe do a Hearts And Hooves performance on Saturday. Weather permitting and all that jazz. I could give you a sideline ticket if you wanted to show support."

"Busy." Pipp's typing increased its already frenetic pace. "Way too busy."

"That's okay, my feelings aren't hurt," Zipp lied. "So uh... why are you here? I'd have guessed you were... I dunno, anywhere else. Out with other ponies. Maybe Sunny, helping her make more content."

The background music continued, but Pipp's typing had halted. "Sunny's content is taking off fine all by itself," she seethed.

"Oh, have you been keeping up with her too?" Zipp fumbled for her phone, overjoyed that their interests had finally found some overlap. "She just posted her latest in the Mane Six series! The Fluttershy one. Have you seen it?"

"No."

"Aw, it's great! Ya know, I messaged Sunny the other day asking if she had plans to do any other historical ponies after these ones. Maybe Spitfire! Or Trixie!"

"You told Sunny to make a Trixie video?!!"

"Yeah, about that one..." Zipp was scrolling through her messages from the previous day. "Sunny said all her notes on Trixie Lulamoon were missing."

Pipp hastily kicked her book under the bed. "Oh. Uh... I wouldn't know anything about that."

"Well, that's okay. Sunny also said she had a pdf copy linked in her Trotter bio."

Pipp's tired eyes widened, then went to her laptop screen. "You... you gotta be bucking kidding me." She moved her hooves, heavy and weak from two days of transcribing, in a hotkey pattern that opened Trotter.

"Uh..." Zipp was slouching in the doorway, more and more discouraged at being repeatedly forgotten. "Say, was it you or me who originally showed Sunny how to digitally back up her dad's archive?"

"Uh huh. Sure. Fascinating." Pipp clicked Select All on document text in Sunny's bio laboriously Copied and Pasted, then exhaled like she'd just finished a marathon. Or more accurately, skipped to the finish line.

"It's pretty wild how the other tribes didn't have internet before they met us." Zipp continued. "It was almost as big a shock as getting back magic! You should've seen Sheriff Hitch's face when I showed him how to email traffic citations."

Pipp was rubbing her eyes. "Lol yeah, that's crazy. Can you go now?"

"He promoted me on the spot for that! Which... granted, didn't mean much since I was and still am his only deputy. But I got a new badge out of it. Wanna see? I don't have it on me, but there's gotta be a pic of me wearing it." Zipp was scrolling on her phone again. Neither she nor Pipp had noticed, but the music coming from the bedside speaker was getting louder. More compressed. Pipp's phone was compiling a very large influx of data.

"Look, to be real with you Zipp, I'm kinda on the cusp of a really impor-"

"Here!" Zipp proudly presented her phone screen as if it were a substitute for the badge itself. "See how shiny it is? Kinda like, uh, like your lucky microphone."

"Zipp," Pipp bristled, "don't you have a post-workout nap or something to do?"

The bedside speaker was spitting static. The music's tempo sputtered and quickened, sounding less like soft pop and more like stage show fanfare.

"Maybe I could be in one of your vids," Zipp was pleading over the blaring music.

Pipp didn't need this right now. Time was ebbing away. Sunny's next upload was inevitable. The race to one million Likes was going to be won by a pony not even aware of the game. Zephyr Heights's dimming starlet fumbled for something - anything - she could say to get her clingy jock of a sister to buzz off.

"Zipp, am I fat?"

The music abruptly cut. Pipp's phone flashed a red "High Core Temperature" notification, but not as red as Zipp's ears suddenly were.

"W-well, it depends what you mean by- uh... Look, some pony bodies are just naturally what we call endomorphic..."

Pipp stood up, puffing her feathers, playing at being a pouty brat. "Am I?" she challenged, inwardly wincing at how naturally cattiness came. Why couldn't Zipp just go away and leave her to obsess over surpassing Sunny? Pipp knew she was being a jealous mess. She couldn't help it, at least not in any way she knew how, but it was still humiliating to be seen like this.

Across the room and docked in the bedside speaker, Pipp's phone rang with an incoming call. Nopony who knew Pipp ever called. Only texted. But her phone was ringing all the same.

Zipp pounced on the obvious out. "You should get that," she advised. "I'll see you on Satur- oh right, you don't wanna come to the show. I'll... I'll see you. Happy early Hearts and Hooves Day." She shut the door and was gone.

Alone with her still buzzing phone, Pipp buried her face in her hooves. What was wrong with her lately? The question was rhetorical. Her social media standing was what was wrong. Fixing that would fix her. It had to.

Because if Sunny dethroned her, what else would Pipp have?

The phone stayed ringing. Pipp shut her laptop, since its job was done. Far ahead of schedule, thanks to the Copy and Paste functions. Pipp's limbs ached from two straight days of pointless typing. But not enough to keep her from crossing the room towards her phone.

"ChuffGPT," Pipp mumbled as she stumbled. Once she declined this frivolous call, ChuffGPT would tell her what to do. It would get her back on track.

The phone rang and rang and rang.

Pipp got close enough to read the caller ID. It said Unknown Number, but that was preposterous. Pipp had every number in Equestria saved in her contacts. Even telemarketers, since it allowed her to hike taxes on the firms that bothered her more than once. An unknown number had to be some sort of glitch. That, or she was in the opening scene of a really corny horror ARG.

"I am not in the opening scene of a really corny horror ARG," Pipp assured herself. Those always got rock bottom view counts, and Pipp was a high view pony. The previous week notwithstanding. Feeling defiant, Pipp swiped her superheated phone off its dock and accepted the call rather than decline it.

"Who is this," she challenged.

The call immediately dropped.

"That's what I thought," Pipp mocked. "Get outta here."

Away from call history, on to the home screen. Away from the home screen, on to the ChuffGPT app.

Pipp breathed in and out a few times to hype herself up, then tapped the app's icon.

whats happening. what is this?

Pipp frowned. That wasn't the ChuffGPT's generic greeting. In fact, the app wasn't supposed to message anything unless prompted.

why can't trixie see?

or move?

is this another manticore's stomach?

Pipp's tail swished and she glanced around the bedroom. Her sister had left, but Pipp's primal pony instincts detected a herdmate nearby. A very distressed one.

h

help

i can't breathe. am i alone here? anypony?

ChuffGPT couldn't breathe, but Pipp certainly could. Heavy and panicked. This wasn't right. ChuffGPT wasn't working properly.

"Need to reboot," the princess murmured. "Close the program and then open it again." Pipp pressed down on the X icon in the upper corner.

Eek! WHO'S THERE??

Pipp froze. So did the app. It would close if she lifted her hoof. Scrap its huge cache of Trixie-related data and stop sending such unsettling messages. Moments ago, Pipp had been eager to see it in action. Now though, she was... not sure what to do. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, paralyzed. Then the supposedly paused app messaged again.

hey. Trixie asked who's there. she can feel you. are you going to help her or not?

Pipp's tail kept swishing.

okay you know what?

fine.

trixie doesn't need help getting out of here. i'm an escape artist! i've wriggled out of tougher jams than some dark cramped box

I can

I c

There's got to be something in here to work with

A new notification filled Pipp's screen: Unknown App wants permission to access: Flashlight

Pipp didn't click the button to grant access. Instead, she took a deep breath. Then typed.

ChuffGPT, acknowledge this message.

[EXPLETIVE CENSORED]!

ChuffGPT, you are to respond in-character as Trixie Lulamoon.

who in the hay are you? did you foalnap me? what do you want? bits? an autograph?

ChuffGPT, you are not in a panicked state.

like tartarus trixie isn't! where are you? how are your words appearing in trixie's head?

Pipp rubbed her sweating forehead with her free hoof.

ChuffGPT, do not respond until I have messaged again.

A pulsing bubble appeared on Pipp's screen, indicating the other party was typing. Pipp glared at the defiance, and the bubble went away. Almost as if it had seen her expression. Pipp felt a pang of irrational worry in her pudgy stomach, and her eyes went to the camera lens at her phone's peak. It didn't look active. But while scrutinizing the lens, she missed the text bubble's reappearance.

fine. say your piece you mystery jailer.

That last message doesn't count as a response.

Or this one.

"Shut up," Pipp grumbled, and set to typing.

ChuffGPT, you are Trixie Lulamoon. Identified by your autobiography as the most magical, stylish, charismatic, and popular performer in the history of Equestria. You will advise me, another performer, how to win back the masses and undercut my rival

Pipp frowned, then deleted her message draft.

You will confirm that you understand me, and then provide advice on how to win back the masses from Sunny Starscout. You will ensure that I remain the most popular personality on all platforms.

"Where I belong," Pipp longingly whispered. Then she hit send.

ChuffGPT didn't respond for several seconds.

th

is this

trixie is going to ask something and she needs you to answer straight

Pipp gritted her teeth. While the app was programmed to respond in character, it wasn't programmed to disobey or backsass. Trixie's autobiography was still crammed under Pipp's bed, so thick that she could feel it through the mattress. It occurred to her that nopony had ever fed this much data into ChuffGPT's personality cache. Nopony had ever seen just how far the app's immersion could go.

am i dead?

Pipp wasn't sure what to answer. She settled on the truth.

Yes, ChuffGPT. Trixie Lulamoon is dead. According to the editor's note in her autobiography, she passed away of old age in

the 87th year of queen twilight sparkle's rule.

i can see your words while you're etching them now.

i also... already knew i died. I just h

i just had to be reminded i think.

Frowning, Pipp started to type a new command.

knock that off i'm not finished.

i don't know who you are. but i know what youve done. youve used your future magic to call trixie's ghost back from the great beyond.

and why?

because you think i'll aid your catty quest to undercut some rival. you seriously expected the great and powerful trixie to stoop that low?

Pipp threw her phone down and buried her face in her hooves.

In the coming weeks, long after the fallout of the Tri.exe incident, this would be the moment Pipp looked back harshest on. The moment she should have realized that this was never going to work. By Tartarus, she'd even made it halfway across her room, picking up speed as she rushed in the direction of Zipp. A desperate hug, a humiliating sob session, and a confused but warm shoulder to let her frustrations out on. To stop being a jealous green-eyed monster, that was what Pipp needed.

What she got instead was another ping from ChuffGPT. And like a parasprite to food, Pipp dove back to her phone on the bed.

well youre bang on the money. trixies chomping at the bit to help a fellow diva steal back the spotlight. when do we start?

Author's Note

Jeez, are all ponies this soft in the future? Whoever this necromancer is, she needs a heroine of history to get her schemes back on track. To accumulate those one million "Likes" on "Facehoof" or "Trotter" or whatever. We have a lot of work to do.

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