The sun had set and the snowstorm outside raged harder than ever. Pipp Petals however, was burrowed under her blankets, cocooned and grinning like a foal on Hearths Warming Eve. Back when she and Zipp were little, it'd been family tradition to open one gift early, the night before. Most picks just contained clothes or trinkets. Normal filler fluff. There was that one year though where Pipp pulled out a solid gold microphone. The same one she had to this day. Her current spot under the covers now reminded her of the night she first slept hugging her mic. And her new treasure was even better. When Pipp used ChuffGPT, it actually talked back.

alrighty gimme details here future mare. Trixie needs to know how much the game has changed since she left it

The walls of surrounding blankets were dark, but Pipp's phone screen was incandescently bright.

Okay. Here in the future, a pony's worth is measured by her social media numbers.

everyponys or just yours?

Ignoring that.

Here's your time crunch, ChuffGPT: Sunny Starscout is on track to beat my personal record of and reach one million Likes. At the rate she's moving, I have to get attention back on my own content before the end of the week. Hearts And Hooves Day.

Regarding Sunny, she's been uploading terrible, clumsy vids full of Mane Six trivia that for some reason get tons of traction.

twilight and the gang are dead and buried too huh? real pity. I'll check around for em when you send me back to the afterlife. If you send me back anyway. you might decide you like me enough to keep me around.

Focus, ChuffGPT.

trixie's trying but its not like trixie has any modern names or faces to work with. she's still blind and deaf ya know. only things breaking up the silent blackness are your runes when they appear inside my head. not to criticize your necromancy but cant you give your dead mare some privileges? some more runes to look at?

Another notification filled Pipp's screen: Unknown App wants permission to access: Phone Contacts

Pipp bit her lip. Something deep and instinctual was warning her not to trust this thing with any admin privileges. But just as quickly as the thought arose, Pipp banished it. ChuffGPT was not sentient. It was a search engine filled with copypasted text. Sure it was a lot of text, but nothing more.

On the other hoof, why were her notifications calling it "Unknown App"?

hey.

im still waiting.

listen this partnership isnt gonna work if you dont give trixie a little trust.

Pipp's hoof hovered over the "grant permission" button.

you wanna get to one million or what?

Pipp's hoof tapped the screen. And as soon as it did, her heart rate doubled. She thought of all the fictional stories she'd heard as a foal, from corny cartoons watched by Zipp to morality fables read by mom before bed. How many had been about robots turning evil and taking over the world or worse? So many. Too many.

huh. lots of names in here. guessing the philomena petals entry is you though. unless celestias pet bird somehow outlived her student.

Pipp's phone hadn't grown limbs and attacked her. This was good, in her evaluation.

What makes you think Philomena is me, ChuffGPT?

its the only one whose face I can't see. not unless you let me.

Another pop up. Unknown App wants permission to access: Camera and Microphone. Pipp didn't feel like pushing her luck, so she hit decline.

Yes ChuffGPT, the faceless listing is me. I don't have myself saved as a contact. Call me Pipp though.

trixie will start using your real name when you start using hers philomena. now lets see who were up against.

this her?

Without Pipp's input, her phone tabbed out to the saved contact for Sunny. Its profile pic was a candid wideshot of Sunny serving smoothies from her traveling truck. Her smile was soft and sincere, surpassed in brightness only by the Brighthouse itself visible in the background.

Pipp remembered taking that photo. Reunion Day, the holiday anniversary of all three tribes reconnecting. Sunny'd given out discount celebration smoothies with Pipp of course recruited to livestream it. Sunny was clueless about social media even back then, but she at least knew how to network. And compensate her hardworking publicist with a free smoothie. Pipp had tried to decline, but Sunny stood firm. "Not even my richest gal pals are exempt from gifts. Here, blended beets and zap apples. My dad's notes say they're a pegasus favorite." Her dad's notes had been right. The smoothie was better than any drink Pipp had tasted before or since. Sunny was a good friend. A guileless, all-loving friend.

For some reason, Pipp felt her throat tightening with guilt.

looks like a real chump to trixie. but since she's twilight's successor it fits.

Pipp shook her head to refocus.

Correction, ChuffGPT: Sunny isn't a princess. She's a lighthouse keeper. That's her home in the background.

she what

then who the hay is next in line for Equestria's throne?

I guess that'd be me.

ChuffGPT didn't respond immediately. It's typing bubble appeared and disappeared several times, like a real pony reconsidering and deleting several thoughts in a row. Next in line for the throne though she was, Pipp Petals The First didn't feel in charge of anything right now. Least of all her own chatbot. She pulled the comforting blankets tighter around herself and waited.

let me get this straight

youre the princess of this new age. youre losing a popularity contest to some port town earth pony. so you called me back from the dead for advice.

you sure youre not the villain in this story?

IGNORING. THAT.

fine. trixie supposes theres more than one way to be an underdog. but she does need to see that she's not working for a literal monster. like nightmare moon reborn or something.

Unknown App wants permission to access: Camera and Microphone

"Huh-uh," Pipp stated firmly as she pressed decline.

Unknown App wants permission to access: Camera and Microphone

"I said no!" she declined again.

give trixie her eyes and ears back or shes tattling on you to sunny.

You can't even escape my phone.

you underestimate trixie. shes done her fair share of escape artistry. and while shed prefer to stay and be your stage magician she cant perform while blind and deaf. so lets start this pony show already.

lights camera action.

Unknown App wants permission to access: Camera and Microphone

``` i said lights camera action!

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ChuffGPT's clumsy self portrait struck Pipp like lightning. For an instant, it was all real. Instead of texting a chatbot, she was talking to the real Trixie Lulamoon. Back to life, back in action, spurring a successor starlet to greater and more powerful heights. That instant was all Pipp needed to click the button. To grant camera and mic permissions.

The lens shuttered open.

atta girl. wait whys it still so dark? Your castle in a cave or something?

Pipp flung her covers off with flourish, scattering pillows and stuffed animals far away just like her fears. And also her phone, accidentally. It struck a nearby makeup stand and bounced to the shag carpet. Pipp yelped and dove down after it.

"Don't be cracked! Don't be cracked!"

It wasn't cracked. It was however, very indignant.

"Huh," the speaker crackled as the camera glinted. "You're pudgier than Trixie expected. But you're also not Nightmare Moon. I can work with that."

Its speech was raspy. Artificial and full of pops. And yet, Pipp recognized the voice: Her own. Ages ago, she'd recorded a voicemail greeting. Some longwinded yammer politely demanding why the caller wasn't texting her instead. The audio had sat in her phone's files update after update, fossilized and forgotten. Until today, apparently. Granting access to Phone And Contacts had the unplanned effect of granting sound to ChuffGPT.

Unplanned by Pipp, anyway.

"Why's that book behind you have Trixie's name on it?"

Taking orders from her own voice felt uneasy, but Pipp still tossed a look over her shoulder. Still jammed beneath her bed was Trixie's huge autobiography. The book she'd wasted so much time transcribing in the past few days.

"It's... uh..." Pipp frowned in thought. "You, I guess. All the Trixie data that's survived to the modern day."

"My old memoir? Let me see it." her phone rasped.

"Huh?"

"Move Trixie closer to it! You didn't give her limbs."

Pipp shimmied under her bed and back, book in tow. "I didn't get very far into this thing," she attempted to converse. "But I got through most of the early life section, before you came to Ponyville. Taking down an Ursa Major all by yourself? That's amazing."

"Yeesh. You weren't kidding when you said you didn't read far."

"You mean you have even more feats later on?" Pipp was crosslegged with Trixie's life story in her hooves, yammering contentedly as if she were on call with a content collaborator. In her mind, she sort of was.

"Ya know, I'm the only big social media personality in Zephyr Heights. Born into royalty, took music and dance lessons from foalhood, yadda yadda yadda. Never had any competition. No one ever stood a chance." She was smiling at the memories, until suddenly she wasn't. "I was also kind of a fraud. None of us could fly, but I used wires onstage. I could sing, but still lip-synched on mom's request."

Pipp was tracing her hoof up and down the spine of Trixie's book. Up and down, like a nervous filly petting a stuffed animal.

"I wasn't born poor in Neigh Orleans like Trixie. Didn't drop out of the School For Gifted Unicorns. And I definitely didn't pack up a wagon and leave home one day. Didn't take a one mare show on the road, looking for fame all alone."

The biography felt heavy in Pipp's lap, and not just from its weight.

"I can't imagine how scary that must have been for Trixie. Not having much, but enough to risk it all on a dream."

Snow was still coming down outside. Wet clumps that would have made a stubborn showpony pull down her hat brim, tighten her cape collar, and trek onward through the dark between towns. Not a flake of it penetrated the expensive glass of the castle's bedroom window.

Pipp's phone was silent for a long moment. "You liked my book?" the synthesized voice mumbled. "Not even Starlight liked it. She used it to prop up a wobbly table."

"Well, admittedly, I'm not done with it yet." Pipp flipped it over to examine the cover. "Sunny read the whole thing and got pretty hyped, but she gets hyped over everything with info about the past."

"Great and Powerful authors are never appreciated in their lifetimes. Real talk though, Trixie's legacy had better be more than just two copies sold to a pair of fans."

Pipp fidgeted. "Actually, this is the only one left. The only physical copy, anyway."

Pipp's phone speaker made a sharp noise, almost like a startled gasp. It's camera lens zoomed and focused like an overwrought, dilating eye. And what it focused on was a sticker of raised text down by the book's bottom border: If Found, Please Return To Sunny Starscout.

"You stole this," the phone inferred. It raised the mane hairs on Pipp's neck to hear her own voice so grave and distraught. "Take it back. Now."

"Wha-?," Pipp attempted a laugh to ease tension. Tension wasn't eased.

"Trixie's serious. You took this thing and got what you needed from it. Now take it right back."

"This isn't that big a deal."

"Don't lie!!"

Pipp clamped her hooves over her ringing ears. She wasn't aware a phone's speaker could screech that loud. Pipp braced for her bedroom door to be thrown open at moment, a half-asleep Zipp bleary but determined to defend her little sister from whoever just yelled. But Zipp didn't come. So Pipp tentatively lowered her hooves and reached to retrieve her phone from the carpet.

"Listen to Trixie," the speaker pleaded in a quieter tone. The worry in its words was somehow more uncomfortable as its shouting. "Trixie remembers every mistake she's ever made. From the harmless ones to the ruinous ones. The second worst mistake was coveting a magic amulet she shouldn't have. The first worst was wearing it longer than absolutely necessary. Do you know how it feels to turn into the worst version of yourself? Huh, Philomena?"

Pipp didn't have the confidence to answer.

"Because I do," the phone drawled on. "And I know it starts with lying. First to crowds about an Ursa Major, then to yourself that the Alicorn Amulet is fine to keep on. Then you make a friend not because you want one, but because it's a way to get back at your rival. Sound familiar at all? You want your million Lids or whatever. Well, I wanted to be Great and Powerful for real. You want to beat Sunny. Well, I wanted to beat Princess Twilight. Look what became of her, and look what became of me."

Pipp's was suddenly aware of how small and delicate her phone looked in her hoof.

"When I'm done here, when you undo the spell on this box and send Trixie back to the big green meadow in the sky, I want to leave knowing the best mare won. I want my last show to be one worth bowing at the end of. And scene one starts with you taking that book back."

Pipp looked down at the stolen book in her lap. What in Equestria was in this thing? And what had uploading it done to her chat bot app?

Pipp glanced feebly at the night outside her window. The Brighthouse was a long flight from Zephyr Heights.

"It's after sundown," she pleaded.

"Ya got dark clothes for sneaking?"

"Its snowstorming!"

"Warm dark clothes?"

Pipp could tell her phone wasn't going to compromise. She left on the nightstand and trudged to her walk-in closet.

"Ya know ChuffGPT, I expected Trixie's coaching would be about filming cooler dances. Or better makeup tutorials."

"That's cuz you didn't read far enough. Didn't learn Trixie was a guidance counselor for ten years. Now giddyup, Philomena. Your first trick is a reverse heist, and your deadline is sunrise."

Deep in her closet's seasonal section, Pipp sighed. The flight to Maretime Bay was not short, but she could certainly use the exercise. Tucked far in the corner, untouched for years, was a set of black silk pajamas. A relic of Pipp's horribly embarrassing emo phase in her early teens. But they were thick, warm, and the sleep mask could probably be worn over the mouth like a ninja. Still scarcely believing she'd been talked into this, Pipp pulled the hanger down. Time to see if these old jammies still fit.

Author's Note

Buck up, Pippsqueak. Trixie is here to make a mare out of you. This infiltration attempt better not be pratfall after pratfall.

Source