Chapters "Goddess blast it all to Tartarus!"
Rarity blinked open her bleary eyes and untangled herself from the mess of pillows. Sunlight was filtering in through the curtains. She'd slept in. Not much but enough.
She stretched and rubbed the sleep away, then ran a hoof through her mane. Brushing would have to be a priority if she wanted to look remotely presentable at the boutique.
A clatter echoed up the stairs. She glanced at the door to the bedroom, then at the rumpled sheets next to her. Another string of blasphemy and the tang of smoke confirmed what she already suspected.
Twilight had woken up early to make breakfast.
Taking only a few minutes to tie her mane back, Rarity made her way downstairs. Sleep still weighed on her eyes as she wandered into the kitchen. She was too late to save the second pancake, as its brief life ended with a short trip to the compost bin at the edge of a charcoal-encrusted spatula.
Grumbling to herself, Twilight marched the pan back to the stovetop. She plopped it on the burner unceremoniously, then glared at the dial and turned the gas down two notches with a delicacy born of barely-contained frustration.
"Gotta wait for that to cool now," she groused, turning her attention to a carton of eggs and a small mixing cup. She levitated out one mottled brown egg and held it at each end between two glows of purple magic. "I guess I can get these started though."
The eggshell imploded with a soft crunch, sending a stream of yolk onto the tile backsplash. Silently, Twilight's shoulders rolled up and forward. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"Morning darling," Rarity said, careful to make sure her tone conveyed more gentle sympathy than mild bemusement.
Twilight started a little, then looked over her shoulder. The glare blended away into a sheepish smile. "Horseapples, I woke you up didn't I?"
"Only a little," Rarity lied, stifling a yawn. She ambled over to the stovetop and surreptitiously turned the dial down one more notch. "Why don't you take a breather and I'll finish up?"
At first it looked like Twilight was going to push back, but then she nodded and slumped onto a chair at the table. "At least it's nearly impossible to mess up hayburger sausage and toast," she said, motioning to the two items already set out.
Rarity nodded and sniffed appreciatively at the spicy aroma of the still-sizzling patties. "Indeed, those look marvelous."
She made short work of the eggs and pancakes, setting both out a few minutes later with nearly perfect timing.
"How do you do that every time?" Twilight asked. "I can never seem to get it right."
"It's a matter of patience dear," Rarity said. She tucked into her own chair and dished out a plate for each of them. "Pancakes are notoriously finicky about temperature. If you try to rush, you'll end up with charred outsides and gooey insides."
Twilight nodded. "I guess I was worried everything wouldn't be ready at once, and you'd have a cold breakfast-in-bed, so I was trying to hurry, and well…"
"Breakfast in bed?" Rarity queried, pleased at the thought even though the execution had stumbled. "Whatever is the occasion?"
"Belated apology for staying up way too late. Again." She yawned and rubbed her eyes. "I know I promised I'd stop doing that."
A pause, and Rarity shrugged. "Well, you're busy. I can hardly ask you to cut your projects short when you get 'into the groove', as they say."
"Regardless," Twilight said, buttering a piece of toast. She took a bite and then chuckled at herself. "I suppose staying up late and waking up early isn't the best recipe for a smooth apology meal when I'm already a terrible cook."
"Think nothing of it dear." Rarity said. She took a bite of the pancake and chewed it delicately. "Speaking of staying up too late though, how is your experiment going?"
"Eh, it's going okay," Twilight said. The lilt in her voice sounded upbeat, but her body language suggested she would be picking listlessly at her food if she wasn't famished from overwork.
Rarity pressed a little. "That doesn't sound very convincing."
With a sigh Twilight pushed her plate away. "Well, it's complicated," she said. "How well do you understand it?"
"Not much I'm afraid." Rarity twirled her fork thoughtfully. "Something about magical computation constructs and systemic instability?"
"Well, the good news is that I got it stabilized… but not really in the direction I was hoping… Honestly I'm close to just scrapping the whole thing altogether if I can't make it behave."
"Sounds rash." Rarity set down her fork and considered for a moment. "What do you mean, make it behave?"
"That's just it, I don't even know!" Twilight ran a hoof through her mane. "It's so fascinating and intricate and, I don't know, beautiful . But I'm at the end of my patience. Every time I send signals into the system, it fails to output anything measurably meaningful. I don't even know what it's doing , so I don't know if this is a breakthrough in magical understanding or just a— just an art project."
Rarity heard the swallowed words. Twilight didn't usually consider art or beauty for its own sake much of a justification, but she'd quickly learned Rarity was the exact opposite, and very outspoken about it.
Still, the description of the project as "intricate" and "beautiful" from Twilight's own mouth intrigued her. Trying to understand these experiments was often an exercise in frustration, but on the other hoof, it made Twilight happy whenever she tried.
"Would you mind if I take a look?" she asked.
"So as you can see, these processes here have created a sort-of equilibrium, but only by absorbing these less stable process groups. And that's just the main cluster I've been focusing on, at the moment I'm barely doing anything with a lot of the other smaller clusters throughout the matrix."
Rarity nodded. Her brain was beginning to get fuzzy with the heady ideas of magical particulate submeshes interacting in a qualitative experiential process, but she thought she was following well enough. "I see. And you say you've been trying to influence the… what was it, vibrational outputs of the experiment?"
"Correct!" Twilight said, bubbling with excitement. "At first it was easy, I just introduced feedback in response to behavior I wanted to improve or dissuade, but then the particles began forming pathways I wasn't expecting, and with each subsequent super-iteration they've been getting more stable in aggregate but less… what's the word, cohesive?"
She sat on her haunches, and rubbed a hoof through her mane. "I don't even know what I'm going for here."
Rarity let the silence rest for several minutes while she explored the floating cloud of magic. It sparked and thrummed in discernible but unpredictable patterns. Particles of ethereal lumessence darted and bobbed, each one made of yet finer strands, but each time she tried to get close to something interesting it changed or vibrated away, confounding her efforts to understand it.
She huffed in frustration. "Is there no way to—" she scrunched her nose then made a reverse pinching motion with her hooves "— zoom in? Is that even a thing?"
Twilight shook her head. "Not yet. You're seeing here the maximum refinement I've been able to achieve without using up all the space in Ponyville. I've tried using deep field tracking to project myself into parts of the construct to gain a more tangible understanding, but it's been unstable and only works for brief instances. I've mostly used it to generate better feedback for the process clusters by having the changes in the construct come from a source rather than nothing, but it always seems to result in some clusters negatively interacting with others."
Rarity nodded. "So by studying it, you're changing it, but the changes you're making aren't having predictable effects."
"Exactly!" Twilight looked relieved. "It's nice when somepony gets this even a little. Spike tries his best and he's got a more intuitive knack for influencing the cohesion of the aggregate, but it's subtle and hard to quantify in meaningful terms."
Silence fell again as Rarity continued exploring. As she probed with her magic, she indeed felt the intuitive nature of the thing. When she touched a glowing particle, it reacted. When she guided it, subtle changes in pattern rippled through the local cloud.
She paused, thinking back. "You said 'yet'," she mused at Twilight. "Is there something else you're working on?"
Yawning, Twilight stood up. For the first time since coming down to the lab she looked tired instead of excited, but a gleam of determination shone in her eyes. "Actually yes." She walked over to a nearby workbench and motioned to a confusing mess of metal and wood. "This is a focusing harness. I've used runes to hopefully improve the rate and fidelity with which I can subjectively experience and inject data to the construct, rather than just poking at it in broad ways."
"Have you tried it yet?"
"A few times. It's still fuzzy. I can get a better sense of what the individual sub-meshes are doing but it doesn't often resolve properly. Just moving data around is difficult." Twilight furrowed her brows. "It's like… Well, no I'm certain I lack the patience to work with the construct instead of forcing myself into it."
Rarity smiled and nudged Twilight in the ribs. "Well, you've never been one to wait on innovation, darling. Sometimes it gets the better of you."
Twilight chuckled. "Yeah…" Then she got quiet for a moment, a far-off look in her eyes. "Would you like to try?"
"What, me?" Rarity exclaimed. "Why? I don't know the first thing about all this."
Twilight nodded. "Well, that's kinda the point. I have preconceived notions about what I'm doing here. I think maybe a fresh perspective would be helpful. Plus your magic is more precise than mine."
The compliment landed squarely and Rarity beamed, but took the tack of humble deference. "Whatever do you mean?"
Twilight laughed. "You know what I mean. Breakfast, case in point. See, I can conjure a teleportation spell, but you'll spend an hour making sure a sequin is perfectly positioned. I can move a house without breaking a sweat, but you can sew stitches finer than the most precise machine. You have finesse and patience, I don't." She motioned to the equipment on the workbench. "I think maybe that's what the focusing rig needs. Someone who can slow down and approach it with a fine-toothed comb instead of a hoofball mallet."
Intrigued, Rarity pondered on the idea. "Yes, I see what you mean." She looked over the equipment. "Is it dangerous? Sticking my horn into some… self-sustaining… magical computational… experiential… net… thing?"
"Not really." Twilight shrugged. "I've had Spike take detailed notes of my sessions. Typically I go into a brief trance, maybe a few seconds or minutes. Subjectively it feels like several minutes or even an hour at the longest. A little disorienting to come out of but I typically regain full function within a minute or two, no long-term side effects that we've measured."
"Seems perfectly reasonable." Rarity looked at the clock, suddenly aware she was yawning between sentences. "I would be willing to try it for you, perhaps tomorrow afternoon?"
Relief and excitement washed over Twilight's tired eyes. "Oh that would be amazing, yes. Why don't you go to bed, I'll need to do a little prep-work so the construct will be ready. Introducing outside elements often requires setting up at least a few artificial threads so the local structure doesn't entirely break down."
"Certainly, darling. Don't stay up too late!" With a hug and a kiss, Rarity left Twilight in the basement lab and went to bed.
When Rarity left for the boutique in the morning, Twilight was still buried deep in the lab, mumbling to herself and nudging glowing particles with her horn, taking furious notes. By the time Rarity returned, it was obvious Twilight hadn't slept a single wink.
"Hi, Rarity!" Spike said, meeting her fresh-faced in the kitchen. "How was your day?"
"Actually it was marvelous!" Rarity replied, putting the final touch on a fancy tomato sandwich. "I sold a gorgeous white wedding gown to Bon-Bon and took in commissions for no less than ten mares needing outfits for the gala next month."
"Sounds busy." Spike grabbed a pawful of small gems from a snack box and munched them slowly. "Are you ready for tonight?"
Rarity nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."
"Awesome!"
They descended into the basement lab. Twilight was moving slowly but with purpose, heavy circles under her eyes. Spike bounced ahead and glided around the lab, gathering equipment and reviewing notes.
"Here's your instructions," Spike said, passing one of the scrolls to Rarity.
"I've determined a few parameters that will help make sure you have a smooth entry into the construct," Twilight said, shaking the bleariness out of her voice.
Rarity read over the checklist as she chewed the last bite of her sandwich. "Mhm… Mhm…" she muttered. "Well it's a little more in-depth than I was expecting but everything seems reasonable."
"The most important thing is to go with the flow," Twilight said. "If you disrupt the network too much it'll kick you back out, but if you don't focus in deeply enough then you won't be able to get a detailed look at the finer workings."
"It's kinda like sticking your face underwater," Spike explained. "If you do it carefully you won't scare the fish away, but you also need to make sure you have the right goggles to be able to see them."
Reading the checklist again, Rarity nodded. "Right."
With a burst of energy, Twilight hustled around the lab in a flurry of final preparations. Spike guided Rarity to a small chair near the pulsing cloud of magic. Within minutes, everything was ready.
"Okay, here goes," Twilight said, bringing over what looked like some kind of helmet-shaped fitting for a unicorn horn. "I've tuned the focusing runes to match your magic better, so hopefully you'll be able to dive pretty deep. Remember, you'll go into a sort of trance as your magic melds with the field, but we'll be here for you, monitoring everything. Ready?"
"Ready," Rarity replied. She kept her voice steady, but the precision and seriousness with which Twilight and Spike were approaching the experiment suddenly had her feel a twinge of nervousness. "I love you," she said, apropos of nothing.
Twilight cocked her head, but smiled. "I love you too. See you in a minute."
With a final nod, Rarity positioned her head. Twilight lowered the helmet.
The brim almost completely covered her eyes, darkening her vision. The metal slid smoothly over her horn. She could feel the buzz and thrum of magic rushing through the valleys and ridges of keratin as runes activated with a faint shimmering noise.
Distantly she felt Spike wrapping a cuff around her foreleg and pressing leads to her chest and flanks. Monitoring equipment?
The magic was intensifying, turning from a trickle, to a stream, then a river, but with purpose and clarity, just barely out of tune, like a song played on an old piano.
Rarity closed her eyes, focused on the notes, and then—
"Alright, she's under," Spike said as Rarity's shoulders slumped slightly. Her breathing became deep and regular. "Vitals look normal… Field is stable."
Twilight sucked in a breath and forced herself to hold it for a second, then exhaled slowly and purposefully. Her heart was racing with adrenaline. "Alright. Continue monitoring."
Why was she so nervous?
Maybe it was the different intensity of the subliminal waves emanating from the helmet. She hadn't been blowing smoke; Rarity's magic was exponentially finer and better controlled in essence than Twilight's own vast power stores, and it knitted and melded with the nebulous cloud of computational magic in fascinatingly precise ways.
Frighteningly precise , she corrected to herself as she examined the raw readouts and probed the field's incomprehensibly complex pattern of waves and particles, and she thought back on the start of the experiment.
She didn't know quite how she'd done it. A single magical particle, refined and compressed with just the right tuning, had suddenly vibrated and formed a stable state instead of dissipating into the ether. Magical vibrations sent into the particle caused it to respond with different but predictable vibrations.
Excited, she'd refined another particle and added it to the first. The interactions changed but remained consistent. She added another, and another. She'd doubled the size of the particle field, then doubled it again and again, then duplicated it again in overlapping layers. Each time the cloud grew fractionally larger, the amount of cross-layer interactions grew exponentially. She could send a complex signal into one area of the field, and get increasingly complex and consistent signals back out.
One day she'd managed to compress the field without breaking any of the connections. It could fit on the head of a pin instead of a room. The magic within had intensified. That same day, she'd sent a precise vibration into the field, and the unthinkable happened.
The compressed field had replicated itself.
Within a week, with some guidance, the magical construct had become self-sustaining, generating new stable subfields and reabsorbing old destabilized ones into the matrix. The system remained in relative equilibrium, never growing larger than the lab space, but rather feeding back into itself, generating new layers and shells of magic, becoming almost a living, breathing thing.
Even with her finest instruments, Twilight couldn't measure it at any more than a gross superficial level anymore.
But now, as Rarity sat peacefully in a trance under the helm filled with nearly-microscopic focusing runes, Twilight wondered if this might be the turning point for understanding. An exceptional pony who could not only intuit, but perhaps even directly perceive the inner workings of the construct.
"How's she doing?" Twilight asked, shaking herself out of the reverie.
"Excellent," Spike responded, poring over a series of blinking lights. A mechanical quill glided smoothly across a rolling scroll in fine patterns. "See? Primary waves are congruent, secondaries and tertiaries are correlated within parameters."
Glancing at the patterns, Twilight's brow furrowed. "Almost too excellent," she muttered, grabbing a quill in her magic and circling a series of arcs. "Look at that congruency. The margins are ten times closer than usual and the eccentricities are almost nonexist."
Spike shrugged. "You said her magic is a lot finer than yours."
"Maybe." She turned back to the field and peered at at a spot where the apparatus focused a cone of Rarity's magic into an infinitely small point. "Look at that."
Spike squinted and grabbed a stool. Walking into the field, he set it down and clambered up, then held a gem up to the floating spot and blew a tiny burst of dragonfire across it. The gem pulsed in a complex pattern with inner light.
When he moved the gem away, the pulsing continued.
"Look at that," he said, a note of awe creeping into his voice. "Measurable but stable."
Twilight's heart fluttered and her breath caught in her throat. This was huge. "Measure again and note down the deviation across boundaries."
Spike started scribbling furiously on a scroll, moving to various points in the field and infusing different gems with dragonfire. The glow of magic pulsed over his scales, the waves of the ethereal field floating through him completely unperturbed. Twilight grabbed her own notes and started writing as well, theoretical half-concepts and suppositions, with marginal notes as she sent probing pulses of magic from her horn into the cloud.
It wasn't until she moved on to a second scroll that her brain tinged with a warning bell. "Spike?"
"Hm?" His voice was distant and distracted.
"What was my longest session?"
"Uhhh…" Spike shook himself out of the focus he'd been in. "A little under three minutes. Why?"
"How long has Rarity been under?"
Spike's brow furrowed. He jumped off the stool and trotted out of the magical field to grab a small stopwatch. His eyes widened and he gulped. "Twelve minutes."
A vise clamped around Twilight's chest. Too long.
Wordlessly they both rushed to the chair. Rarity's breathing was still deep, her eyes closed, muscles relaxed. Spike pored over the readouts. "She looks stable, I can't see any problems…"
"Rarity?" Twilight gently shook her shoulders. "Rarity, wake up."
Nothing.
Twilight forced herself to take a breath. "Okay, did you ever do anything to bring me out?"
"Nothing." Spike shook his head, rechecking the measuring equipment. "Her patterns look just like yours, only deeper."
They both stood in silence for a moment. The only noise was the sound of the mechanical quill scratching over paper.
"I'm gonna try bringing her out," Twilight said. She reached out with her magic and gently pulled on the helm, raising it slightly.
An alarm bell sounded from the monitoring machine. Spike jumped for the readout.
Simultaneously, Rarity's forelegs stiffened and pushed against the chair. She cried out. A pulse of magic emanated from her horn, and the helm slammed back down.
Twilight slipped backward and fell on her haunches as she lost her grip. "What in Tartarus?" She stood back up, ready to try again.
"Don't!" Spike yelled. He waved the paper. "Look!"
With monumental effort, Twilight forced herself to pause. She looked at the readout.
At the moment she'd tried to pull off the helm, every single one of Rarity's vital signs had skyrocketed into the red zones. Not by much, and not for more than a moment before everything stabilized, but it was enough.
"Oh no," Twilight whispered, as the vise seemed to tighten on her chest. "Oh no."
They monitored her in shifts. Twilight tried to power through on coffee, but Spike forced her to go upstairs. She slept fitfully on the couch, returning to the lab as soon as she had energy to open her eyes. Every waking moment she spent by Rarity's side. Every resting moment, Spike watched the machines and took detailed notes about every fluctuation and pattern.
It seemed like forever, before anything changed.
"TWILIGHT!"
At the sound of Spike’s voice, her eyes flew open. She rolled off the couch clumsily, tangled in a too-small blanket. Precious seconds elapsed as she fought with it, then she extricated herself and dashed down the stairs.
Spike was nearly buried in wires and readouts. He passed her a sheet. "Look, her vitals are fluctuating. I think she's coming out of it."
Twilight worked around the hodge-podge maze of hastily-repurposed monitoring equipment. She watched Rarity's chest rising and falling, faster and more uneven now. Eyelids fluttered under the brim of the helmet. Magic pulsed, frustrated and random.
Suddenly Rarity's eyes shot wide open. She gasped, deep and hoarse, then tumbled forward out of the chair.
Twilight barely moved in time, catching Rarity before she hit the floor headfirst. They tumbled together, Rarity panting and heaving, eyes wide in panic.
"Rarity! Rarity!" Twilight tried to get in front of her face. "Look at me, look, you're okay, you're safe, you're safe."
Rarity's breathing stabilized, her eyes focused on Twilight as she seemed to come back to reality. Foggy and shaky, she glanced down and stared at her own hooves. A few moments later, she looked around the room, taking in the equipment and nearly-forgotten magical construct. Her gaze lingered.
"Rarity?" Twilight prompted softly.
Tired and panicked eyes came back to meet Twilight's own. They warmed with recognition. A faint hint of a smile crossed her lips. Then she spoke.
"Water, please."
They sat in the kitchen in silence for a while. Rarity chewed on a piece of plain bread and sipped a small glass of water gently. Her magic was wobbly. Twilight sat across the table, tension radiating off her in waves. Spike leaned against the wall, trying and failing to look like the calm, collected one.
Rarity looked between them. She seemed caught between bemusement and exhaustion. "You both look worried."
"What happened?" Twilight prodded softly. "Where did you go?"
"I'm not sure… How long was I out?"
"Three days," Spike said.
Rarity's eyes widened slightly. She shook her head. "I'm so sorry. I didn't plan to."
"What do you mean?"
Another bite of bread. Rarity didn't answer immediately. When she swallowed, she looked up at Twilight. "I need to go back."
"WHAT!?"
Rarity held up a hoof in a placating gesture. "I know, I know. I can't explain yet. I barely understand it myself, but… I promised."
Twilight's face contorted with confusion. "What do you mean?"
"Just…" Rarity sighed and closed her eyes. "Trust me. Please."
It took several minutes of arguing, but Rarity insisted and finally Twilight relented. They returned to the basement, and Rarity took her place in the chair.
"You're sure about this? Spike asked, holding the helmet. Twilight hovered a few steps away, torn between anger and fear.
Rarity nodded. "I'll be right back this time, I promise."
Spike puffed out a calming breath, and placed the helmet back onto Rarity's head.
Rarity's breathing dropped, the magic in the room flared and pulsed again.
Twilight's heart beat in her chest like it would burst.
Less than a minute later, Rarity's eyelids fluttered. She inhaled deeply, and lifted the helm off with her own magic. Spike took it, setting it carefully on the workbench.
Twilight stepped closer, hesitantly. "Well? What now?"
Rarity smiled gently. "Now, I need to sleep. Then, I need a quill and some parchment."
Rarity slept in their bed for the better part of twelve hours, barely moving. At first Twilight refused to do anything but pace and fret, but at Spike's insistence finally relented and laid down as well. She fell asleep nearly instantly, but tossed and turned under the covers.
Spike could feel himself barely hanging on to the edge of wakefulness as well. It wasn't lack of sleep so much as mental and physical exhaustion. But knowing someone had to do the dutiful thing, he consumed a terrifying amount of sugared gemstones and steeped some quadruple-strength tea. He worked at cleaning up the lab, tidied the library, and reassured their worried friends they'd have answers soon. He even fielded some inquiries from Rarity's customers, most of whom accepted the answer that she'd been ill with a stomach bug and would be back at the boutique soon.
Rarity woke first. Spike heard her stirring in the late afternoon, but refrained from going upstairs to check. A few minutes later her hooves sounded on the staircase, and she wandered into the living room. Spike waved silently and motioned to the end table by the sofa, where a quill and parchment sat out. She smiled thankfully, picked up the quill with her magic, and seemed to start sketching or writing.
It didn't take long for Twilight to follow. She rushed down the stairs a little quicker, but slowed when she saw Rarity. Twilight took a seat on one of the other chairs.
Spike stifled a yawn, and placed a few small plates of fruit on the coffee table. He sat in another chair.
Nopony spoke for a while. The only sound was Rarity's quill on paper.
Twilight eventually broke the silence. "So, are we going to talk about what happened?"
Rarity sighed, but kept going. "It is… difficult," she said. "I'm still trying to collect my thoughts and come to terms with it."
"Maybe start at the beginning?" Spike prompted.
"That's just it," she said. "I don't remember the beginning. I vaguely remember going in, but after that… it's like I started over."
"Started over?"
"Like I forgot everything. I wasn't even in my own body anymore."
Twilight leaned forward. "Were you in any body?" Her eyes gleamed.
"Well, I perceived being in a body of a sort," Rarity said, catching on quickly. "But it was a different body. I had to learn to use it again, how to move and walk. I didn't have this or these," she said, motioning to her horn and wiggling her hooves. "I couldn't even talk, or at least approximate what would pass for talking here."
"You're talking about walking and moving," Spike said. "Like you went somewhere."
"Were you in a physical place?" Twilight asked. "Your body didn't leave the lab, like teleport or anything."
"Again, I perceived it, but it was like a waking dream," Rarity said. "I was living an experience of sorts, but from somewhere outside, if that makes any sense."
"What was it like?" Twilight pressed. "Was it… interactive?"
Rarity nodded. "It was. Eventually my senses, such as they were, adapted to the place. I remember touching things, going to other places, and learning. But…" She squeezed her eyes shut, as if in pain. "But it's so foggy. Like another life."
She paused, thoughtfully. "I think I lived another life."
"What do you mean?" Spike asked.
Rarity's eyes sharpened, and her voice grew more confident. "You know how you grow up, but you don't remember growing up? You just wake up one day, you're the sum total of your experiences, and your memories are just markers along the way?"
Twilight nodded, but didn't speak.
"Well, I have those memories," Rarity continued. "Those… milestones from when I was a foal, and then a filly, and then a young mare, and up to now. But I have another set now, and they're different but the feeling is the same."
"What's the clearest one?"
Rarity looked away, and her face changed. It was just a bit too long before she replied. "I don't know."
Twilight's eyes narrowed but she didn't push. "Okay, can you tell me more about the place? What else was there?"
"It was…" Rarity's brow furrowed. "It was like here in many ways, I suppose. But different. I couldn't use magic, that was the main difference. But the creatures there — "
"Creatures?" Spike interrupted, earning a glare from Twilight.
Rarity nodded. "Creatures, yes. They lived like we do, they moved and spoke." She caught Twilight's skeptical expression. "Or at least, that was my perception, I suppose…"
Twilight tapped a hoof. "I wonder if that was just your brain interpreting the magical particle clusters as creatures because there was no other way you could comprehend them." She pondered for a moment. "Did they seem… intelligent in any way?"
"I think so?" Rarity replied. "At least as intelligent as you and I, but more than that they had… emotions."
"What kind of emotions?"
"Oh, all of them. Love, anger, hate, joy, but most of all…" Rarity paused, and took a deep breath. "Fear. I felt so much fear from them."
"Fear of what?" Twilight asked.
It was a long moment before Rarity replied, but when she did, her eyes were clear and her voice was sure. "You."
Twilight blinked. "Me?"
"Yes." Rarity sighed and stretched. The quill continued scratching. "You see, it was a long time before I remembered who I was. Before I was something other than what I became in that place. But when I did, things started to make sense. Like they're making sense now."
Rarity's words started coming quicker, more confident. "For that long time, all I understood about it was a vague fear of something . But when I started to become aware of my otherness, the bridge I stood on between our place and that one. I remembered you both back here, though I didn't perceive you as 'Twilight and Spike'. The creatures knew you as something else, something that came into their reality and frightened them, that changed their world in inexplicable ways. But I made the connection.
"I knew you didn't mean to frighten them. You wanted to help, to guide, but all you could convey were crude, sweeping generalities. Some of them tried to follow your guidance, and some rejected it. They fought each other over which was right. They…" she gulped. "They killed each other, Twilight."
Twilight was sitting stock-still, her face a mask of something between horror and confusion.
Spike cleared his throat. "Um, Rarity… how long were you in this place?"
A shudder passed through her shoulders, but Rarity took a deep breath. "Thirty of their years. Give or take."
Twilight gasped.
Rarity's quill kept moving over parchment as she spoke. "When I understood what was happening, it became my goal to try and help them understand. I tried to stop them. Tried to show them a better way, what you really wanted to teach them. Some of them listened to me. Most didn't."
Her voice started breaking. "It all happened so fast at the end. They refused to hear me. They said I was dangerous, that I couldn't be allowed to continue. They took me and — " Rarity choked on the words.
"That's it," Twilight said, standing. "I've heard enough."
Spike started. "What do you mean?"
"I mean this experiment is over," Twilight replied, her voice sharp with barely-contained anger. "I don't know what I was trying to accomplish with this, I don't know why you dreamed what you did, but something is wrong here. I was just too blind with ambition to see the danger in the power I was playing with." She started for the door. "I'm going to dismantle the construct."
"NO!" Rarity lept from the sofa and physically grabbed Twilight. The quill and parchment fluttered to the floor, ink spilling. "You can't!"
"Why not?" Twilight snapped. "What happened , Rarity? What did they do to you?"
"They… they didn't understand, Twilight," Rarity pleaded, tears welling in her eyes. "They didn't know what they were doing. And I promised them… that's why I had to go back, I promised …"
"Rarity?" Spike asked from behind them. "What are these?"
He held up the parchment so Twilight could see. Some of the pages were covered in dense scrawl. Others held rough sketches. The top page was the most detailed though, and on it were drawn two faces.
Or at least what passed for faces. The proportions were wrong. The eyes were too close together, the snouts flattened and thin. The ears were in the wrong place and rounded instead of peaked. It was grotesque by pony standards, almost deformed. But still, Twilight could see that one seemed male, and one seemed female.
Rarity swallowed. "My… my parents." She pointed at one with a trembling hoof, then the other. "My father, Yossef… and my mother, Mariam."
She looked back up at the incredulous eyes staring down at her. "I told them I'd be back, Twilight. I promised I'd save them all… from you."
Author's Note
I have very little explanation for the genesis of this story.
For a long time I've wanted to write a ponyfic with religious themes. I don't think this story is it , but it's a stepping stone. Combined with some thoughts and stories from another friend of mine, this sprang forth one day almost fully formed. It's heavily inspired by my feelings on the Simulation Hypothesis (incidentally one of my favorite films is The Matrix , which itself has compelling ideas about the nature of deity).
So far as I can tell, the target audience is approximately that one friend; I probably wrote more for them than anything. If anyone else enjoys it, that's a bonus. If not, I hope at very least it's interesting and unique.
