Walking through downtown Kant was like walking through an abstract painting…or a fever dream.

The skyline was dominated by buildings of every conceivable shape and color. Neon green tetrahedrons and electric blue pyramids jostled for space alongside rainbow-colored double helixs and color-shifting mandelbulbs. Apartment buildings curved and branched like metallic trees, with hab pods dangling from them like ripe fruit. Towering above them all was a truncated cone topped with a starburst of iridescent crystal; a psychedelic volcano frozen in mid-eruption. The words ‘KantCo’ scrolled across its surface in letters dozens of meters tall. The only thing more colorful than the city…

A hippogriff/dragon crossbreed bumped into me. His holographic head exploded in a spray of voxels, filling the air with multi-colored cubes before reforming. “‘Polgeez ”He mumbled and trotted off.

…were its citizens. Old Canterlot had always been a cosmopolitan city, but the past few millennia had turned it into a veritable melange of cultures, tribes, and species. Kirins walked alongside flocks of Breezies encased in shimmering force-bubbles. Dragons held conversations with zebras. Diamond dog pups played alongside Changeling nymphs. And of course, there were a dizzying number of crossbreeds and hybrids.

Some beings weren’t content with the bodies they’d been born with. Vat-grown wings sprouted from Earth Ponybacks. Ruby and emerald lenses replaced eyes, and crystal spikes replaced horns. Legs were replaced by mechanical claws, tentacles, or even repulsers. Some were so heavily modified they barely qualified as ponies and were more like shambling works of abstract sculpture. Their lives had become a never-ending contest to stand out from the crowd, expressing their individuality by becoming as exotic and alien as everyone else. To them, I was just a winged unicorn. No exotic implants, no exotic features. Barely altered. Boring.

I didn't mind at all. After millennia of being mobbed by fans, critics, and worshippers, it was nice to be ignored.

As I walked, I took a slight detour to shake up my daily routine and relieve my tortured retinas. I passed through a teleport arch, trotted underneath one of the sky-piercing orbital stabilizer pylons, and entered Kant’s “Oldtown” district.

Well, relatively old. According to the tourist apps, the section of the city was “Old Canterlot as the Princesses knew it.” It was billed as a piece of history brought to life, Marble, wood, brick, and plaster replaced smartmatter and composites, all built with the graceful arches and domes of an era long dead. Groups of tourists followed behind tour guides, oohing and aahing at buildings that didn’t change shape at a whim. Children stared in amazement at paving stones made from actual stone. None of them seemed to notice that every corner was just a little too sharp, that every wall was just a little too straight.

I snorted. This entire district was a facade. Everything here had been built by drones and designed using archived design templates. The marble had been cut by lasers. The wooden fixtures had been grown in a lab. This “historical” district had no actual history. With one exception…
I glanced over the town square. There, shielded from entropy by a shimmering stasis spell, was the only real piece of history in this tourist trap: a sculpture of Twilight and her friends, chiseled from the finest neightalian marble. A present to my former student.

It was amazing that it had lasted this long. This statue had survived the fall of civilizations, countless natural disasters, and overzealous urban sprawl, yet it looked as smooth and detailed as the day it was made. I could still see the barely-contained energy in Pinkie’s eyes and the corded muscle in Applejacks’ forelegs.

One of my finest works. I admit it had been a bit excessive; Twilight wasn’t really one for extravagant gifts, but I’d been in the mood to try something special. After all, it wasn’t every day you turned 100.
“Raven?”

“Yes?” Raven said.

“How much time do we have?”

“Exactly three hours and twenty-five minutes until your presentation.”

‘Good, plenty of time, ' I said, trotting into a nearby cafe. A changeling cashier wearing an archaic skirt waved to me and smiled.
‘Lo, Celestia!” The Changeling said in the raspy, buzzy voice typical of her species.

“‘Hello, Elytra.”

“What-order?

“I’ll take the usual.”

“‘Stood.” Elytra she , walking over to a printer and printing out some ingredients.

then took a seat at one of the tables.

Near the door, a yak bedecked in this season’s latest subversive clothing, suspenders, and a propeller beanie nursed a drink. On the table, his drone displayed some text. On the opposite side of the cafe, an Earth pony stallion and a female kirin sat across from each other.

After a few minutes, the Changeling trotted over to my table, holding a teacup of bright yellow liquid and a spoon with a pair of tongs. Gingerly, she placed the little cup on the table and let it go, brows furrowed in concentration.

Enjoy! She said and flitted off.

I nodded and poured some synthetic sugar into the brew, stirring it with a spoon. The concoction hissed and bubbled as I stirred it, an angry beast being roused from its sleep. When I withdrew the spoon, all left was a blackened, eroded stub.

That’s how you knew it was good.

Tossing aside the half-dissolved spoon, I raised the cup to her lips and took a sip. Caustic liquid flowed into my mouth, flooding my mouth with a strong lemony taste, followed by a slight burning sensation as my teeth and tongue dissolved.

For a while, I sipped the caustic tea, occasionally giving my mouth time to regenerate while studying the artifacts hanging from the walls. Something caught my eye: a new artifact on the cafes’ walls. A sheet of old, yellowed newspaper, shielded from eternity behind a pane of synthetic diamond. It was most likely a third-generation copy of a copy—but still quite expensive. Though slightly faded with age, the headline was still clearly visible.
“FIRST GENERAL ELECTION TODAY!”

I remember that day well. “The day the Monarchy died,” they called it; for the first time in its history, the citizens of Equestria had been able to choose their next leader. A thousand years of tradition had been overdone in only a few decades.

And only Twilight could have pulled it off.

In the decades after her coronation, Twilight had spent much of her reign making herself and her government obsolete. Each year, the ancient structure of the Equestrian government was slowly reformed. New offices were formed. New social welfare programs were implemented. A constitution was drafted and formalized. Like a leaking bucket, the office of Princess became less and less powerful.

Of course, it hadn’t been unopposed. Many of the nobility, especially those from the oldest families, had seen my former student as an upstart trying to destroy her mentor’s work. Being nobles, they’d erected every legislative roadblock they could think of, hoping to smother the flames of change with bureaucracy and red tape. But Twilight persisted. By the time the first general elections were held, Twilight had reduced herself to a figurehead.

It was something I never would have done. Something I never could have done.

After Discord and Nightmare Moon, Equestria was on the brink of collapse. To save it, I sacrificed progress in favor of stability. Over time, it had hardened into a thick crust of conservatism. Reforms occurred at a glacial pace. The status quo had reigned supreme.

I’d told myself that it was for Luna’s sake; so that when she returned, she’d return to her old role without much difficulty. Really, I was doing it for myself.

Luna had been right; Equestria had needed fresh blood.

Taking another sip of tea, I quietly observed a couple sitting in the corner, one, an earthpony stallion was sitting across from a kirin mare, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. I was no Cadance, but I could spot love when I saw it. He’d probably be investing in fire-proofing potions sometime in the immediate future.

Bittersweet memories started bubbling up from my subconscious. During my life, I’d taken many, many, lovers; I stopped keeping track at around three hundred seventeen. Like a gourmet, I’d sampled at least one from every tribe, species, and gender. earthponies, griffons, dragons, changelings, and even a dalliance with a human during a trip to the mirror world. Some had been mere romantic flings; a half-hour in a supply closet during estrus or a last moment of passion before a major battle. Others had blossomed into all-out marriages, both traditional and otherwise, including a “marriage” to an entire Changeling hive.
The memories began to sting. A few tears started trickling down my cheeks. In the end, though, they’d all me the same fate. Some had passed away peacefully after years of marital bliss. Others had been snatched away by disease, violence, or ill-fortune. A few had even died by my own hoof. And my children…

I sniffed. More tears started trickling down my cheeks. Unlike Cadance, none of my offspring had inherited my immortality. One moment, I’d be nursing a newborn hybrid foal or hatchling. The next, I’d be standing by their deathbed, watching their withered bodies take their last breath. Some lived a little longer, some a little shorter, but in the end, death came for them. After attending my seventeenth great-great grandsons’ funeral, I gave up on relationships with mortals, romantic or otherwise. Aside from Raven, Twilight, Flurry, and Luna were my only close friends.

I blinked away tears. Why did I torture myself like this?

I raised the teacup to my lips, then stopped. There, for just the briefest moment, I felt just as I was about to finish my tea. Sort of a warm, electric tingle, impossible to describe to a non-alicorn.It was a magic. Alicorn magic.

Curious, I slipped outdoors, trying to get a better idea of where it could be coming from. Twilight and Flurry were off-world, and so was Luna. Could Cadence?

No, better to not think of it.

Curiosity piqued, and I trotted outside. My jaw dropped.

There, standing right by the statue, was an alicorn.

A male alicorn.

Author's Note

Sorry 'bout the wait! Things have been a little nuts at home.