“I will not yield!” Starlight Glimmer screamed, her face contorted with rage. She slammed her hoof down. “You will never defeat me!” Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the document on the table before her. “There is nothing here I cannot overcome!”
Her face softened and with a frustrated growl, she sat down. “Or… perhaps there is.” Spread out on the table were three notebooks, a half-dozen technical texts and magic tomes opened to bookmarked sections, and a scroll listing some twoscore scientific problems to solve. She was on number three, and her solution to number two was questionable at best. She’d made good progress with embedding persistent spells to control physical mechanisms. The complication was creating consistent feedback to the spell. Without that feedback, the control spells ran wild destroying the mechanism. Despite the progress Equestrian scientists were making, technology just wasn’t advancing fast enough for what she needed.
Twilight Sparkle had been excited when Starlight explained her personal project to research the merging of magic and technology. She’d given Starlight use of the Cutie Map room so she’d have plenty of space to spread out. The castle only had one portable table, so they’d talked to Pinkie Pie about borrowing some of the tables she used for parties. The next day Pinkie set up seventeen large tables in the map room. Starlight had no idea she owned that many tables. When asked, Pinkie smiled and said, “One table per problem, silly.” With a knowing wink and a wide grin, she then turned towards the door. Starlight sputtered, trying to ask what Pinkie meant, but before she could get a word formed, the pink pony had pronked out of the room.
Starlight slowly looked around the chamber. There were seventeen empty tables scattered about, plus the one she sat at. She leaned forward resting her chin on an open book and closed her eyes. It didn’t make sense. Her scroll had a lot more than seventeen problems to solve, and no matter how many there were she’d still only work on one or two at a time. There was no need for seventeen additional tables. She released a long sigh. But then, it was Pinkie, so understanding was not a requirement.
Suddenly a fierce wind blew through the room flipping the pages of the books before her. Starlight’s head popped up, her eyes and ears flicking around the room for the source of the disturbance. The scroll of problems blew off the table and flitted across the floor. A ticking sound above her caused her to look up, eyes wide. Directly above her was a spherical transparent shape covered in clockwork forms. Excess magical energy crackled like lightning around the room.
“My time spell!” she blurted out. Before she could react, she was drawn upwards towards the open bottom of the sphere. Her legs flailed uselessly as she was sucked in and vanished. With a soft rustle, the problem list settled to the floor in the now quiet room.
Starlight landed hard on her side with a huff. She glanced up just in time to see the time spell shrink into a dot of light and flash into nothingness. As she stood up she winced at her bruised ribs. Looking around, two incompatible facts came to her attention. The first, that she was standing on the floor of the map room. She hadn’t moved. The second, that the map room and the entire castle were gone. Wind-blown leaves danced across the floor and weeds poked up through cracks. She kicked a loose piece of crystal that skidded away until it ran into a tuft of grass.
Looking ahead she saw the green rolling hills outside Ponyville and the treeline of the Everfree Forest in the distance. A bit of a smile crossed her lips. At least it’s not a wasteland, she thought. She turned around to look in the other direction and gasped, raising a hoof to her chest. Gone were the quaint wooden houses with thatched roofs that made the Ponyville she knew. All had been replaced by gleaming steel and glass buildings, many several stories high. Her eyes scanned back and forth looking for any building or landmark she could recognize. The town looked cold and soulless. The previous wind seemed to blow colder and she shivered.
Ears forward, Starlight squinted at an approaching figure. “Twilight!” She galloped towards the purple alicorn. As she got closer, she slowed to a trot, and then a walk. Something was wrong. Twilight’s gait was stiff and she seemed to rock back and forth with each step. As Twilight Sparkle got closer Starlight noticed the eyes. They were too small, and each iris looked like that found in a camera. Starlight’s breath caught in her throat. They were artificial!
Twilight stopped a pace away. “Hello, Starlight. It’s so great to see you, literally, in the flesh.” Her lipless mouth was open with no teeth or tongue visible. The words came out sounding hollow and tinny like a radio broadcast on a speaker that was too small. Artificial eyelids blinked with a soft click.
Starlight felt light-headed as tunnel vision closed in. The world began to tilt. By force of will she pushed the darkness back and did not allow herself to pass out. She looked deep into those soulless eyes. They looked… empty.
The Twilight simulation took a step forward. “I know it’s a shock, Starlight, but hang on. Don’t pass out on me.” There was another soft click as she blinked again. Starlight took a deep breath and adjusted her unsteady stance. “Starlight, so much has changed over time. I promise you that soon you will understand and all your questions will be answered. Just hang on. You’re safe.”
Starlight’s ears were down and her brow furrowed in doubt. “Twilight, is that… you?” She searched the face before her trying to recognize the teacher and mentor she knew.
Twilight’s mouth, still open, emitted a strange repeating sound. A laugh? “Yes, of course, although I imagine my appearance is confusing. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a brief explanation as we walk to our destination.”
Starlight arched an eyebrow.
“What? I can be brief.”
The eyebrow arched further threatening to jump off Starlight's face. “If you can be brief, that might just prove you are not really Twilight.”
Twilight made a hissing sound that had to be a sigh. “Okay, point taken. Please, walk with me.”
As she turned, Starlight got her first good look at Twilight’s body. She looked like a pony, but the normally smooth curves had an unnatural sharpness to them. Her fur all stood erect like the fuzz on a peach. She had her cutie mark, but it looked painted on her skin, if that even was skin. Twilight broke into a trot which Starlight matched to keep pace.
As she drew abreast, Starlight noticed that Twilight's mane didn’t move naturally. It bounced a little too much with each stride. “Twilight, what happened to you?”
Twilight glanced over before looking forward again. Her mouth opened up to emit her tinny voice. “It’s called ‘The Fusion’. It’s a merging, or melding… a fusion of organic components, technology, and magic to create a sort of vessel to hold a pony’s consciousness. A new body that never wears out. Virtual immortality.”
“So, an artificial body?”
“Exactly. Designed to support a pony’s memory and personality. I’m still in here, Starlight.”
“Memory… Organic…” Starlight’s eyes went wide. “Are you saying your brain is in there?”
Twilight nodded. “Yes, well, most of it. Anything related to body regulation wasn’t needed. You know, systems like respiration, circulation, digestion; all the functions that the new body handles automatically.”
Starlight abruptly stopped and lowered her head close to the ground. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” She squeezed her eyes shut as her body heaved a couple of times without result.
Twilight swung around. “Are you okay?” The words suggested concern, but the tone held no emotion.
Starlight raised a hoof in a ‘hold on’ gesture. After some deep breaths, she opened her eyes again. “Who would come up with such a thing?”
“Well, actually, you did.” With her mouth hanging open, Starlight stared at Twilight. “The Fusion is your creation. You were working on some of the founding principles in the Map Room before coming here. Of course, you couldn’t do it all yourself. I handled the organic support system which basically amounted to two refillable tanks in the body cavity for oxygen and an enhanced glucose mixture along with the delivery system. There’s enough to keep us going for a month, although we top it off once a week so there’s a safety margin.
“Maud Pie got a degree in metallurgy then created all the alloys used and designed most of the internal frame. Various qualified ponies helped in other areas. You handled the actual fusion part as well as the interface between the brain and the outside world. So vision, hearing, speaking, movement, and the like. It was absolutely brilliant work. I was so proud of you.”
“But we don’t have the technology to do this. My research is nowhere near anything like this… yet. How far in the future am I?”
Twilight tilted her head. “Pretty far. Just over a thousand years.”
Starlight’s rear legs collapsed and she landed hard on her rump. “A thousand…” Her head dropped low between her shaking forelegs.
Twilight stepped closer, placing a hoof on Starlight’s back. Twilight’s touch felt cold, lifeless. “Breathe, Starlight, breathe.” Starlight gasped a couple of times and started to grow faint leaning to one side. Twilight moved to support her speaking softly, “Nice slow regular breaths, Starlight. That’s right, nice and easy. The dizziness will pass.”
Starlight slowly raised her head, still shaky. With tears in her eyes, she asked, “But Twilight, why would you do this to yourself? You’re an alicorn! You don’t need…” She gestured towards Twilight’s body, “All this, to live a thousand years.”
Twilight wrapped an artificial wing around her former student. “Partially, to lead by example. I couldn’t suggest my little ponies do something so radical if I wasn’t willing to do it myself.” Her gaze drifted towards the horizon. “And accidents happen. One that… on a train to Manehattan… Even alicorns can be… broken.” Twilight hugged Starlight a little tighter. “The Fusion provided an option when all the others had been exhausted.”
“Still, a thousand years.” Starlight wiped her eyes with her leg. “I don’t understand. I recognized the time spell. It was mine, but I never told it to anyone, not even you. And it was different, more powerful. Who used it to bring me this far forward in time?”
Twilight helped Starlight get back to her hooves. “That’s who we’re going to see now. We decided it would be best if I met you first. We’re going to that second tall building just ahead on the right.” They started walking again, slowly, as Starlight was still unsteady and holding her head low, ears down.
When they reached the building Starlight looked up at the facade where a sign declared: Castle of Friendship Annex. As they entered the building Starlight asked, “Twilight, what happened to your castle?”
Twilight’s artificial ears drooped. “It was destroyed in the Second Griffon Wars when a radical group from the Dragon Empire joined forces with them. All of Ponyville burned that day.” Her ears swung forward again. “But as you see, we came back stronger and more modern.” Before Starlight could respond, Twilight veered to the right towards a wide staircase. “We’re heading to the second floor, the hallway on the left.” Starlight cantered a couple of strides to catch up.
“Each answer raises a dozen new questions,” Starlight muttered to herself.
Twilight stopped a short way down the hall. “Here we are.” She gestured towards a door then took a step back. “Just go on in. You are expecting you.”
Starlight glanced at the number on the door: 217. She paused, blinked twice, then turned. “What…?” But Twilight had already exited the hall back into the second-floor lobby. Starlight took a deep breath, knocked twice, then opened the door and walked in.
The room was a disaster. Tables piled high with books and technical doodads she couldn’t possibly identify. Walls covered in bookcases filled with more books, scrolls, and scores of opaque containers with hoofwritten labels on them. Some glass containers held ghoulish samples that she didn’t want to identify. Multiple filing cabinets filled much of the remaining open space with some drawers only half closed due to being overstuffed with papers. It all felt familiar to Starlight, somehow. It was the type of research lab she would feel comfortable in.
On the far side of the room was a large wooden desk facing the door. Much like her table back in the map room, this desk was covered with books and papers. Behind the desk sat a lilac unicorn. “No, it can’t be…”
The pony looked up and their eyes whirred to focus on her. The mechanical mouth opened and a voice that Starlight recognized greeted her. “Starlight. Thanks for coming. I mean, it’s not like there was much choice, but thanks for coming without delay.”
Starlight closed her gaping mouth and after a moment was able to sputter out, “You’re… you’re me!”
From behind the desk, the mechanical Starlight made that same repeating sound Twilight had. She was laughing. “Yes, I am. It’s better if Twilight meets you first and fills you in on some things before getting to me. You know, try and get any fainting out of your system first. Still, you’re looking a little pale, perhaps you should have a seat.” She gestured at one of the two chairs on the near side of the desk. A glance showed Starlight why her future self pointed to the one chair – the other had been repurposed as a pseudo filing cabinet, stacked high with papers that threatened to topple over at the slightest breeze.
Starlight took a step forward, then froze. “Wait! How do I know it’s really you… me? I mean, you could be a–”
“Changeling? Yes, I know.” She crossed her forelegs on the desk. “Go ahead. Ask me something only we could possibly know. And not something simple like what posters were in our room as a filly. Something hard.”
Starlight’s eyes rolled towards the ceiling as she thought. Then her focus snapped back to the potential imposter behind the desk. “Okay, answer me this. The day Sunburst got his cutie mark, he stopped a pile of books from falling on me. What book was on the top of that pile?” Starlight grinned slightly as no one could possibly know this.
Without so much as a pause, the other Starlight responded. “It was ‘There's a Unicorn in My Garden - a Foal's Book of Rhyme’ an anthology by various authors. It was one of our favorite books when we were small and often requested as a bedtime story.” She leaned back in her chair. “Go ahead. I know I’m correct.”
Starlight squinted as she studied this doppelganger. “Perhaps. But if you are me, isn’t meeting yourself in time travel bad?” Her voice went up in pitch. “Like, destroy the universe bad?” She took a step backward, eyes going wide.
Mechanical Starlight made the strange laughing sound again as she shook her head. “No. Don’t worry. That’s just a tired trope writers use to create some tension or obstacles in a story. Real time travel doesn’t work that way. And should you meet yourself, typically all that happens initially is that one of you gets really confused. We’ll ignore the potential implications to the timeline for a few moments. So… are you confused?”
Starlight’s ears drooped. “I think I’ve moved past confused to being stupefied. Gobsmacked, even.”
“I’m not surprised. And did the universe explode?”
Starlight looked around the room, then leaned to her right to see out the window behind the desk. “Not as far as I can tell.”
The other Starlight spun her chair around to also look out the window, her movement accompanied by the muffled sound of servos and actuators easily heard in the quiet room. She then turned back. “I concur, and thus it has been proven.” She again gestured at the chair.
Starlight gave a heavy sigh, stepped forward, and took a seat. “Thanks, I am a bit shaky still. So if you’re me, you clearly did The Fusion?”
“Yes, I, well actually you, were one of the first ponies to do it after the volunteer trials ended. They lasted over a decade and involved several hundred ponies.”
Starlight sat up straight. “There were ponies who volunteered to test this thing without knowing if it would work?”
“Absolutely. More than the program could handle, even after being doubled in size four times during the course of the testing. There were those who were partially or fully paralyzed. Those who had lost limbs or were horribly disfigured and crippled from accidents. And of course the terminally ill.” She paused for a moment as her ears drooped. “So many sick ponies. Twilight had to hire staff to review all the applications, do interviews, and prepare lists of the best candidates for you to pick from.”
Starlight’s voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Did we… Did we ever lose anypony?”
“Just two. Honeycrisp Apple was the grandfoal of Big Mac and Sugar Belle. She had cancer and wanted to escape it with The Fusion.” Mechanical Starlight turned towards a bookcase, her eyes whirring as she focused on a faded, almost colorless photograph. “Unfortunately, the cancer had spread to her brain but was so tiny none of our scans or physicals picked it up. I visited her in the hospital during her last week. She held my hoof, her leg shaking from the emotion her eyes and face couldn’t express.” Starlight’s own eyes filled with tears as she realized mechanical eyes couldn’t weep. “She thanked me for giving her eight more pain-free years with her family.”
Starlight blinked away her tears as she thought of a friend she’d lost recently. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been, but I know you would have done everything you could because that's what I would do.” She paused for a moment, then hesitantly asked, “And… the other one?” Although she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.
“The other was a pegasus named Cirrus who had been crippled in a flying accident. He’d lost the ability to fly, could barely walk, and was in constant pain.” She adjusted the position of a small Wonderbolts logo statue on her desk. “The Fusion was an obvious choice. But he never fully adjusted to the change, saying it was just too different from being a real pony.” Future Starlight glanced at another faded photograph of Maud standing next to a fusion pegasus with their wings extended. “This was years before Maud Pie developed a new alloy that was strong, lightweight, and flexible enough to create artificial wings so we could restore flight.” She looked back at Starlight. “Cirrus spiraled into depression and one day…” She stared unseeing at a spot on the table for several moments. “One day he found a way to just turn himself off. It was less than a week after Honeycrisp…”
Starlight, hooves to her mouth, softly offered, “I’m so sorry.”
Mechanical Starlight gave her head a little shake and looked forward again. “I was a mess for days after that, full of conflicting emotions and uncertainty. Trixie invited me out to fly kites. She could tell something was wrong and kept pushing me.” Her eyes tilted up in what was probably an eye-roll. “You know how persistent Trixie can be sometimes. I finally gave in and told her about the two ponies we’d lost. Without a word, she adjusted her position and watched my kite dance in the wind. She watched it for a long time. Finally, she looked over and asked me a simple question: ‘Would you rather risk doing good, or play it safe doing nothing?’ I hoofed her my string, grabbed my saddlebags, and left to go back to the lab. I glanced back to see Trixie wearing her smug smile as she gave me a little wave. I never again questioned what I was doing or its importance.”
Starlight cleared her throat to force away the lump that had formed. “So… did everypony do The Fusion?”
Behind the desk, future Starlight sat up straighter to the sound of spinning servos. “Once the backlog of, shall we say, highly motivated ponies was completed, the conversion rate did drop dramatically. Many healthy ponies felt it was too extreme, too unnatural. Some wanted nothing to do with it, condemning anypony who was interested. For several decades the majority of those wanting The Fusion were the elderly and newly sick or injured. It seems one's unshakable opinions tend to become more… fluid… when the Grim Pony is knocking on your door.”
Starlight nodded. “I can understand that.”
“A significant percentage of ponies, perhaps a third, never did The Fusion. They chose to live out their lives as hundreds of generations before them. Applejack, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy all passed at a very old age. Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and of course Twilight all did The Fusion. Dash waited until Maud had the artificial wings ready. We lost Rarity a long time ago in a train accident on her way to Manehattan. These bodies are not invulnerable. Every generation had fewer and fewer holdouts.”
“Are there any real ponies left?”
Starlight mechanical laughter rang out. "Yes, of course. There's a thriving colony of organics in and around Vanhoover. They do extensive trade with us and encourage visitors. Still, other than a few assigned to the Office of Commerce, there are no fusion ponies living there."
Starlight glanced out the window again. “So, for those who desire it, The Fusion is basically immortality, or at least an escape from illness or injury. And for those that don’t, life goes on as it always has.” Starlight fidgeted in her seat. “If it’s so perfect, why am I here?”
From behind her desk, the other pony let out a long staticky sound that Starlight assumed was a heavy sigh. “We have a problem.” She shuffled some papers on her desk pulling one out and setting it on the top of the pile. “You’re familiar with Pony Pox?”
Starlight nodded. “Sure, all foals get it. I had it when I was young and spent a couple days in bed. But everypony recovers with no harm done.”
“No direct harm, but not without consequences. Pony Pox leaves behind a mutated form of itself.” She pointed at the paper with a hoof. “A virus that lies dormant in the neural tissue of the body. Ponies live out their lives without ever knowing it’s there.”
Starlight leaned forward clearly interested. “Okay. We aren’t aware of that in my time, but it doesn’t seem like it’s a problem.”
Mechanical Starlight tapped a notebook on her desk. “I’ve done the research. It’s not clear if it’s the passage of centuries or some magical component of The Fusion. Perhaps a combination of the two. But given enough time, the dormant virus becomes active. Starlight, we’re losing ponies in larger numbers each year.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, then looked across the table again. “And it didn’t end there. Pony Pox jumped the species barrier. It’s everywhere. And it’s no longer taking centuries or decades for the second form to become active. The organics around the world have a generation, perhaps two. Fusion ponies not much more than that.”
Starlight’s eyes widened as she stood up and paced. “So that’s why you brought me here. You’re going to tell me how to stop it and then send me back to do just that!”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” Future Starlight pointed at a bookcase full of journals and binders. “I spent two centuries studying this from its first appearance. Twilight and I had to develop whole new fields of study: virology, immunology, neural cellular and molecular biology, and several other -ologies. We simply don’t have a decade to teach you everything you need to know to take back with you.”
Starlight stopped and spun towards the desk with a smile. “Time travel! We literally have all the time we need.”
Mechanical Starlight’s ears drooped. “You may, but I don’t.”
“The virus?”
She nodded. “But even if time wasn’t limited, you just couldn’t retain two centuries of research. You’d burn out before we got through half of it.”
Her brow furrowed, Starlight took a step towards the desk. “Then what do we do?”
“Please, have a seat. Your pacing wastes energy.” Starlight returned to her chair and sat. “Fortunately, I have an alternative. We’ll move everything I’ve learned from me to you.”
Starlight frowned. “I don’t have room in my head for two brains.” She tapped her temple with a hoof.
“No, it’s not like that. Our brains are one hundred percent compatible. We’re the same pony after all. I have developed a process to magically transfer and imprint all the memories from one pony to a compatible donor. In this case, that’s you.”
Starlight smiled. “So I will instantly know everything you do.” Her grin took on a slightly mischievous look. “Two centuries of learning will be mine.” Then her brow furrowed. “So, nothing physical is transferred? The plan would fail if any of the active virus came over too.”
“It’s a transfer of energy. Nothing comes over but my memories, and perhaps a little bit of used brain juice.”
Starlight’s face took on a definite green tinge as she grimaced and bit her lower lip.
“Oh, that never gets old,” and she let out a mechanical laugh. “Okay, that was cruel. Funny, but cruel. There is no physical contact. All you’ll receive is the knowledge and memories I currently have. I guarantee it.”
After blowing out a breath, Starlight asked, “You’ve done this before?”
“Yes, I have some experience with the process. Don’t worry about that part. It’s totally safe and effective.”
Starlight let out a sigh as her gaze dropped to the floor. I was wrong. Each answer generates a hundred new questions.
“I know it does.” The whir of servos accompanied a nod. “But you’ll have all the answers soon.”
Starlight’s head snapped up. “How did you know what I was…?”
Future Starlight pointed at her with a hoof, then at herself. “I remember this conversation from that side of the desk. I remember the list of questions piling up in my head. Something like today leaves a lasting memory.”
Starlight stood up again. “Sorry, I think better on my hooves.” She walked a slow loop around the room weaving around filing cabinets. “So if we do this, why don’t I remember it? After going back, I should remember having done it, right?”
“See? You’re already starting to think like a time traveler. Very good. And you’d be right except for one thing. In order to prevent any sort of paradoxical knowledge loops, you’ll be going back a little over an hour after you came forward. With my memories, you’ll fully understand how to use the enhanced time travel spell. It’s tied to the map room despite any planetary movement.” She lifted a cautionary hoof. “But when you go back, have your levitation spell ready because you're going to arrive above that table you were sitting at and it could be a rough landing.”
Starlight started her second loop around the room. “So I don’t remember any of this because the old me came forward before the new me went back. None of this had happened yet.” Starlight paced a while longer then turned to face the desk. “Wait! If I go back with your memories, I’ll know the future. Even if I’m careful, I’ll break the timeline.”
With a metallic rap of her hoof on the desk, future Starlight exclaimed, “Exactly, although I’d call it fixing the timeline. We’re counting on that. The whole purpose of this is to change the timeline to one where the virus has been removed or made inert before The Fusion takes place. This future will be replaced by a new, better one.”
Starlight stopped walking and spun towards the desk. “Replaced? So, everyone on this timeline will die? Ponies, non-ponies, everyone? We can’t do that.” She stomped a hoof, head lowered and ears pinned back. “I will not do that.”
Mechanical Starlight extended her forelegs. “You forget, everyone on this timeline is already... I can’t save them here.” She rested her legs on the desk. “Only you can, in the past.”
Starlight looked down at the floor as she shook her head. “But that isn't saving them. It's replacing them..” She glanced back to her double. “How can I–”
“Look. You have a choice to make. It’s the classic trolley problem.” Servos hummed as she raised one leg. “If you do nothing, everyone on this timeline is dead anyway.” She raised the other leg. “If you change the timeline, at least we won't suffer, and our sisters in time will live on.”
Starlight backed up a couple steps. “I’m not sure I can make that choice.”
Future Starlight held a hoof to her chest. “Deep down you’ve already made the choice. You could play it safe and do nothing, but we already know where that leads. And that’s not you. When there’s a problem, you’ll try, no matter how many times it takes, until you get it right.”
Starlight closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. “So the moment I go back with the knowledge to fix the problem, this timeline just… ends.”
“Correct. It will no longer exist other than in your memory.”
Starlight bit her lower lip for a moment, then asked, “How can I remember something that never happened?”
“See? That’s the fun of time travel. You’ll spend some sleepless nights thinking about that one.”
Starlight nodded. “No doubt. And you believe that this will work?”
“It has before. If it’s not one world-ending problem it’s another. A war, a pandemic, a natural disaster, or some other extinction event. Each time you go back with the knowledge of how to solve all the previous problems… plus one.”
Starlight’s eyes went wide. “Each time? How many times have I done this?”
“This will be number seventeen.”
-- The End --
