One day, I decided to throw myself out a window.
After dragging myself kicking and screaming back to the waking world, I’d hauled myself out of
bed and plodded over to the shower cubicle. With a quick spritz of water and a squirt of nanobot
shampoo, the layer of sweat and loose hair that’d built up overnight sloughed off, leaving
my coat as lustrous as liquid mercury. After that, I dashed to the kitchen and printed
out my usual breakfast: a slice of Vitamelon(sugar content boosted to one thousand percent of
the daily recommended amount) and a glass of water, an offering to appease the demon
in my stomach. As I munched on the melon, my drone, Raven, detached from her
charging socket and showed me the morning newsfeeds.
As I skimmed through an article about a senator who’d been having an
affair with his own clone, something occurred to me: I had been repeating this
same morning ritual the same way for almost a century. I always woke up at the
same time: 6:00 on the dot, I always showered for precisely one minute and
twenty seconds, I always used precisely two squirts of shampoo, and I always ate my breakfast in precisely four bites. Nothing had changed
It’s disturbingly easy to get locked into a routine when you're pushing your seventh
millennium.
I furrowed my brows.
“Raven?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
I couldn’t help but smile. I hadn’t been a princess for millennia, yet my robotic assistant had always insisted on using my former title. It was like the old Raven had never left me.
“Raven, can you think of something to…spice up my morning routine.”
“Thinking”. Raven had beeped for a few seconds. “Perhaps you could try some coffee for an added caffeine boost?”
I’d recoiled. “No!” Millennia ago, I had sworn that that foul concoction would never
pass my lips!
“I guessed as much. “ More beeping. “Perhaps you take your daily walk a few hours early?”
Hmmm.” I pondered the idea for a moment, then shook my head. Raven’s suggestions were nothing but variations on the same exhausted theme. I needed something fresh. Something that took my usual morning ritual and hurled it out the window. But what? What could I do that I already hadn’t done a million times before?
As I brainstormed ideas, I turned my head towards the apartment’s sprawling picture window that partially justified my six-figure rent. Outside, the Kant city skyline glimmered in the morning sun like molten gold. An idea arose from the depths of my consciousness. It was ridiculous. It was dangerous. It defied all common sense. It took a metaphor far too literally.
It was perfect
Trotting over to the opposite end of the apartment, I’d turned to face the window, took a few
hoofsteps back, then lowered my head until my horn pointed straight out like a magical curlicue
lance.
“Princess, may I ask what you’re-”
“Shh!” I held up a hoof and took a few deep breaths. With a roaring neigh, I reared on my hind legs and charged, pumping my wings for extra speed. As soon as it detected me, the
smartglass began to turn cloudy, frantically trying to reinforce itself. All in vain, the moment my
horn made contact, the smart-glass shorted out with a pop, and six hundred kilograms of alicorn
burst through the pane and into space.
For a moment, I was engulfed in a cloud of sparking smart glass shards like wobbling,
sparkling snowflakes, trying in vain to reform themselves before safety protocols forced them to
disintegrate. I was a miniature solar system, an equine sun surrounded by countless
crystalline planets. Then gravity, the ultimate killjoy, dragged me back to earth. Figuratively
and literally.
Air rushed past my body, whistling past my ears, whipping my mane into a frenzy. All I could
hear was my heart pounding against my rib cage like a caged animal. Adrenaline surged through my veins like a flood of liquid fire. The world spun around me as if I were the spindle around which everything else turned. As I fell, a smile slowly spread across my face. Serotonin flooded through my brain. For a few fleeting moments, I was alive.
Below me, I could see tiny, ant-like pedestrians staring up at me, frozen in shock. I could hear
their gasps, their screams. The pavement directly below me began to frantically shift color and
texture, trying to morph into something soft and cushioning. Horrified pedestrians grew
Larger every second. from ants to mice, then rabbits.
Stars flashed before my eyes. The next thing I knew, I found myself sprawled eagled against the
pavement, laying in a shallow crater of cracked smartcrete. Bystanders of all species crowded
around me, asking me if I needed help while their drones buzzed around me like
vultures over a carcass.
I’d picked myself up, brushing bits of pavement out of my coat, trying to reassure everybeing
that I was alright, which I was. Alicorns were durable; I had been slammed into mountainsides, swatted by dragons, and even survived reentry from low orbit. It’d take a lot more than this to kill me.
As the adrenalin high faded, a low-dull ache spread across my body. Wincing, I’d cast a
low-level pain nullifying charm.
It still hurt like the dickens.
As I brushed bits of smartcrete out of my coat and mane, a Kant CityGuard and a team of
paramedics teleported to the scene. As the paramedics checked me over, the Guard, a
yak/dragon with a bionic jaw, gave me a very strict lecture about public safety and how “just
because you’re an alicorn doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want,” then slapped me with
a thousand neo-bit fine and a mandatory hypnotherapy order. News drones orbited
around me, shutters clicking, broadcasting my image across the entire Net. If I knew the Net, it’d
gain a lot of interest, generate a few humorous memes, and then fade out in a few days.
Once the last bystander scampered off and the previous drone had flitted away, I walked
back to my apartment and collapsed on my sofa. A glossy forcefield covered the jagged
hole I’d made as it healed, a scab over a gaping wound. Thanks to my little stunt, I now owed my landlord and the City of Kant a combined total of twenty-thousand bits.
Worth it.
“Raven?”
“Yes?”
“Begin my mandatory therapy session,” I said with a snort. Might as well get it over with.
“Please hold still. This will only take a moment.” Raven positioned herself over my face and
switched on her holoprojector. A swirling blue, seafoam, and green tornado danced before
my eyes. My mouth went slack. Drool started trickling down my chin as the therapeutic laser
show attempted to rewire my brain before dissipating in a spray of voxels. A typical pony would
have felt relief, clarity, and a new sense of peace. The only thing I felt was an intense
feeling of vertigo and a killer headache.
The doctors wouldn’t understand. The doctors couldn’t understand. I wasn’t sick. I wasn’t
senile. I was just tired.
Groaning, I wiped the drool from my chin, dialed some painkillers from my printer, then lay back
on my sofa and waited for the universe to stop spinning around me. With nothing else to do, my
eyes wandered around the organized chaos of my apartment. In one corner, a blank easel stood
watch over a stack of oil paintings, waiting for brushstrokes that could never come. In another,
an unfinished manuscript lay on a pile of best-selling novels, waiting in vain to be published. On
another wall, a dented, rusting mage-rifle hung inside a sealed case, a relic from a century-long
stint as a mercenary. war banners taken from defeated enemies dangled from the ceiling. The walls were plastered with magazine covers, diplomas, and doctorates in everything from medicine to art history. There were even a few pinups from “Gentlestallions” magazines.
All of those accomplishments. All of those accolades. Even one of them would have been an
entire life’s work for a mortal. For me, they’d been hobbies, something to keep my immortal
mind busy as I waited for the heat death of the Universe. No natural talent was involved, no inherent skill or aptitude for them. I wasn’t a born artist, writer, or mercenary; my only talent had been an absurdly long lifespan.
My eyes fell on two ponnequins standing vigil in a corner, decked with hoof slippers, gorgets,
and gleaming crowns. One set had been forged from gleaming white gold. The other was carved from polished obsidian.
Seeing that old regalia turned my mind towards Luna. The last time I’d seen my beloved little
sister, she’d been about to leave on a ship bound for the outer planets; something about
wanting to “paint the moons of other worlds.” As we’d rode the gondola towards the spacedock,
she’d asked me about Starswirl’s Gift, just as she had the previous nine hundred and seven
times. As always, I’d refused. I wasn’t ready. Not yet.
As the universe slowly righted itself, I picked myself off the sofa. That was enough
self-reflection for now. I never was very good at being lazy; you can't afford to be lazy when you rule an entire kingdom by yourself for a thousand years. I needed to do something. Preferably without causing further property damage
“Raven?”
“Yes?”
“What does my schedule look like?”
“Checking,” Raven beeped. “You HAVE a 17:00 presentation at the Kant History Museum,
followed by a short Q and A session. Aside from that, your schedule is clear.”
Good. I had plenty of time.
“Raven?”
“Yes?”
I motioned towards the door. “Come, let's go for a walk.”
-
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.
