Abby stepped out from the kitchen doorway, grinning goofily all the way. She might not have been involved in the party planning, but she couldn’t be more impressed. It was exactly the same sort of party she might’ve thrown for her big sister back when they had still been kids, complete with handmade banner.
Recursion looked the same as she was used to seeing her from their tutor sessions. It was very strange to be standing in a pony-sized apartment, surrounded by other ponies, and still be looking down on her. Abby had never been taller, but there was no mistaking it. Does that mean I’m the older sister now?
Recursion saw her, and the heavy bundle of papers she was levitating dropped out of her magic, landing with a thump at her front hooves. She ignored the bat pony stallion beside her, and walked up to Abby like someone in a trance. “Sis?”
“Hi.” She waved one hoof, though she couldn’t look right at Recursion. She could already see her eyes watering. Why did Celestia make ponies so adorable?
The room was full of excited ponies, all cheering and stomping their hooves, but Recursion hardly seemed to see them. Abby tuned out their enthusiasm too, as her sister approached. “I’m at the center,” she tried to say. The words came out as “I’m really here, but not to stay.”
“What about…” Recursion was only a foot away, wiping away her tears with the back of one leg.
“He doesn’t know,” she said. “And I won’t tell him.”
Recursion threw herself around Abby’s neck with all the childish abandon of any of their youthful hugs… though generally Abby had been the eager, childish one. She could almost feel the pony squeezing her. It was a nice hug.
“Celestia… I never thought I’d ever get to do this again…” There weren’t just a few tears this time, enough that Abby could almost feel the moisture on her coat.
“Easy, sis…” She patted Recursion gently, trying to remain half as composed as Ashley had done for her, when they had been younger. “There wasn’t anything to worry about.”
Only then did Recursion release her, wiping back a few strands of bright orange mane that had been ruffled during their hug. “It’s good to see you here… almost.” She turned away, at the crowd of ponies that were all thronging close to watch. “Hey, everypony! Meet my sister, Aurora!”
Celestia had been right—Recursion loved her gift. The party passed in a blur of friendly ponies, who generally talked about technical subjects far over Abby’s head but were universally kind and deferential to her on account of being “Recursion’s older sister.”
One of the first ponies to introduce himself to her was the bat named Cadmean. "Your real name is Abby, isn't it?" he said, nudging up beside her in the buffet line. "I thought you were supposed to be... younger." Was it strange that Abby could recognize a leer when she saw it, even here?
"I am," she answered, pushing him gently away from her with one hoof. "Things get fuzzy in Equestria. I'm still trying to understand it. Wouldn't you... Wouldn't you understand it better? You live here."
"Yeah, well." He followed her down the line, ignoring her hints. "I never really cared to until recently. Ponies were always more fun to investigate than the world they lived in."
Where Recursion had come from, Abby couldn't guess. Teleport? She looked sidelong at her. "This bat isn't bugging you, is he?"
Cadmean rolled his eyes. "That's terrible and you know it."
Recursion pulled him gently out of line, away from Abby. "And you're still on probation. Best behavior only with my sister, or else." She glared pointedly at him, then slid in beside Abby.
Cadmean huffed. "Whatever. You're just mad I beat you at DDR again."
Abby watched them, saw the smile on her sister's face as he walked away.
"He's right," Recursion muttered. "Celestia promises we'll be perfectly coordinated, but some of us are just more perfect than others." She looked down, at the full plate Abby was levitating along. "You, uh..." she lowered her voice. "You realize you won't be able to taste any of that, right?"
"Yeah, I know," Abby sighed. "It seemed wrong not to try anyway, just in case. I haven't seen this much food in one place since Thanksgiving four years ago. Remember that stupid gathering we had?" They made their way through the party to a quiet corner of the balcony, where nopony was sitting. Nopony bothered them—had Celestia told everyone here just how short a window Abby had to visit? If so, she would have to remember to say thanks.
"When we all just showed up at the park instead of renting it, and the rangers tried to kick us out?" Recursion laughed. "Yeah, I remember. That was the best. I don't think this food is better than Thanksgiving, but..." She looked guilty for a second. "Cadmean and I were at this restaurant a few nights ago, at the top of one of the skyscrapers. Some Prench-sounding place... I've been trying to get him to like normal food by giving him the best stuff there is. There was this—"
Abby cut her off. "Wait. You're saying... are you dating that pony?"
"No!" Recursion buried her face in a pastry and didn't answer until she had finished chewing. She lowered her voice even more, so much that Abby had to lean in close to hear her. "He's my latest project. I'm trying to help him get better."
"Ponies do that?" Abby didn't bother lowering her voice. "I mean, can't Celestia just... fix anything? You have a habit you don't like, she just... makes it go away. Anything about yourself you don't like, just change it."
"That's... possible." Recursion shivered visibly. "Lots of us aren't comfortable with that kind of thing." She held up an eclair with her magic. "I mean, if all you are is a pattern, asking someone to muck around with it..." She squashed it in her magic, though held all the cream and bread together so it wouldn't go spraying everywhere. "How many changes does it take before you're somepony you weren't?"
"But you're trying to change him."
Recursion tossed the squashed pastry into a bin. "Help him change himself. Feels more organic when it happens that way. I mean, sure, there are those transhumanist-type ponies out there... always asking for an upgrade from the princess. I'm not comfortable with that. I want to be me, you know? Cadmean does too. I can respect that. Even if... it'd be way easier."
And so the party went on. Abby could never tell if any individual pony she spoke with was "real" or not, though if pressed she would’ve had to admit that all of them probably were. Either Recursion didn't have any NPC friends, or... Abby couldn't tell the difference.
They ate unhealthy food she couldn’t really taste or smell, played cheesy party games, and listened to live music from a balcony overlooking the city. Abby had no way of keeping track of time, though she felt afraid every second might be her last, and she was going to be ripped away.
The longer she stayed in Equestria, the less she felt the controllers and the more real the simulation felt. Somepony seemed to be keeping track though, because after some length of time most of the guests filtered out, bidding farewell.
Only a small group of ponies remained, the same ones Recursion mentioned most often during their tutoring sessions. Significant Figure, Slide Rule, and the bat pony Cadmean.
The three of them were engaged in an intense game of pony-Risk at the kitchen table, leaving Abby and Recursion to themselves on one of the comfortable sofas overlooking a gigantic window.
“So what did you think of your first visit to Equestria?” Recursion asked, resting just behind her so that her belly was partially resting on Abby’s back. It had felt strange at first, but… the longer she spent in this position, the nicer it felt. Ponies liked physical contact even more than humans did, that much had been obvious.
“First visit?” Abby narrowed her eyes. “I’m not worried about this once, but if Dad caught me…”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I don’t actually know how good the centers are.” The word apparently came easily, though nopony had been able to mention them during the party before. Were the rules different for different groups? “I never used one.”
“Really good,” Abby answered. “There are a few headsets you can buy for home computers… not Equestria Online, other games… but they’re nothing like this. This is… almost like being here.”
“Almost.” Recursion sounded wistful. “Your only visit to Equestria, and all you saw was my dumb apartment.”
“No!” She forced Recursion to look at her. The magical grip came as natural as any other motion her character performed—though levitation was about the limit of what Abby had ever bothered to use while playing. “I saw you! Nothing else matters.”
The younger pony smiled a little. “Maybe. But Equestria’s still beautiful. Even if you wouldn’t enjoy the parts I usually visit… Fillydelphia is way better from the inside than it ever was from a Ponypad. Maybe you’d be able to see that from a center.”
“I guess all of this looks even more real to you? You don’t use controllers, I bet.”
Her sister laughed, and she could feel the little pony’s belly shake through her skin. “No, nothing like that. Life here is… well honestly, it’s harder to remember life outside. Let me try and explain…
“It feels as real as Earth. Realer, even. Anything you can feel on Earth, you can feel here… but usually good things. I haven’t felt much pain since I got here.
“Everything always works out. Celestia… I don’t agree with her methods, but she knows how to run a world. You’re never bored… there’s always something new to try, somewhere new to explore. No need to be afraid anymore, because even bad things all work out in the end.”
“You sound like a believer,” Abby muttered. “I’ve heard Dad talk about God that way before.”
The pony’s laugh was a little bitter this time. “I am that. Not Celestia’s first convert, or her most willing. But I feel lucky to live here. I thought of myself as one of her bitterest enemies—I made a knife to try and kill her with… but she took me in anyway. Gave me my wonderful friends, and a chance to make a difference…” Her sister was crying again. There was no mistaking the cracking in her voice. “If my family was here with me, I’d think it was perfect.”
“Well, maybe I can visit another time. I’ll have to save up… it’s quite expensive.”
“Yeah.” Recursion’s ears flattened. “Celestia’s hooves manipulating people again. First one’s free… give someone a taste, and they’re addicted.” She rolled off Abby’s back, and onto the ground in front of her.
Abby didn’t see what she might say next. A strange ringing sound was building in her ears. The perfect image of Equestria around her was starting to flicker. She rolled spasmodically off the sofa. She caught one last glimpse of the watching ponies, her own sister’s expression wide with horror.
* * *
The notice flashed over her vision, and the pony illusion was suddenly gone. “FAILSAFE ACTIVATED, SIMULATION TERMINATED.” The seat started to lift, but the motor died halfway up, at about the same time all the lights went out and she was left in the dark.
All except for the faint glow of her glasses. Abby reached out, fumbling against the interior of the pod until she found the pocket, and put them on.
An urgent voice spoke into her ears the second she had settled it into place. “Aurora, can you hear me?” It was Celestia’s voice, without any trace of her usual attitude. There was only worry, and urgency.
“Y-yeah.” She pushed on the unit in front of her, and found it resisted a little. She had to shove with all her strength to get it to grind upward. “What the hell… are you doing to me?”
Somewhere far away, the ground shook, accompanied by the sound of a distant explosion. Car alarms went off, people screamed, and windows shattered. She felt it only distantly, as a wave of hot air that made her ears turn to painful ringing.
It didn’t affect the sound of Celestia’s voice. “The Equestria Experience Center has been attacked.”
Abby kicked so violently the plastic assembly came off at one side with a mechanical cracking sound, and she clambered out. She stood uneasily in a place of total darkness, a void. “Where am I?”
“You’re in one of the booths. Here, let me superimpose a projection of lighting in the room around you.” The space suddenly lit up—she was surrounded by soundproof padding, except for a single opening just overhead obviously for ventilation. The large fan inside it had stopped spinning, though. Not far in front of her, maybe three feet past where her feet had been dangling, was a closed door lined with more soundproof padding.
“What… what do I…” she whimpered, her legs wobbling a little under her as she put her weight on them. She felt like she had just gotten out of a car after a long time sitting still, though it hadn’t felt like she was sitting still.
“I have consolidated all my resources to preserve the lives of those undergoing the emigration process. There is a mob outside, and a fire spreading through the building upstairs. I will see the fire continues until their emigration is complete.”
“How are…”
“Your visor contains its own antenna, which can receive messages even while underground.”
Abby tried to open her mouth to speak, but Celestia cut her off. “Listen very carefully, Aurora. You must leave the building immediately, before the fire spreads down to the basement or your air supply is exhausted.”
“I…” She shoved against the closed door with one shoulder and found it opened easily. She stumbled out into a long hallway, exactly one chair wide and stretching in both directions for hundreds of feet.
There were no real lights, or sources of illumination coming in from under the glasses. Celestia was lighting the floor for her. Noise poured in from above her, shouts and screams and the dull roar of a fire. It was already uncomfortably warm. “On your knees!” Celestia commanded, and she obeyed without thinking. “You must avoid breathing the fumes. Cover your mouth with your shirt and stay as low as possible until I tell you otherwise.”
“Where’s Carter?” She crawled over to the next identical door. “In here? We should escape together.”
“Carter elected to emigrate three hours ago. Her life is among those I must protect until the process is complete. Continue forward until I…”
There was a brief pause, only a fraction of a second, and Celestia’s tone changed slightly. “There is new urgency. A few of the mob have prepared with fire-retardant gear and appear to be making their way through towards your position.”
Abby started to crawl, as fast as she had ever crawled before. Her mind still spun—Carter wasn’t coming back with her. Those street preachers had been more right than she had realized.
The day had started as one of the best—now footsteps were pounding on the ceiling above her, the air was heating up, and she might die. What will they do if they catch me?
“Hey sis!” Recursion was suddenly standing in front of her, slightly taller on account of Abby’s awkward position. “Celestia gave me permission to come and help you out.” She was walking steadily backward in front of her, though she frequently glanced up at the ceiling. “Keep going! We’re almost at one of the service passages.”
“As quick as you can.” Another voice from behind her. She spared only a glance to see the bat pony from the party. His name was… Cadmean, right? “Drag yourself by your elbows and push with your legs. It’s much faster than what you’re doing.”
Abby tried it, finding a helpful illustration of “COMMANDO CRAWL” appeared in the air in front of her until her posture was correct. That was good, because the sound of footsteps pounding along upstairs was getting much louder. “You’d think… if Celestia was so all-knowing… she’d know one of her centers was going to be attacked.”
Recursion nodded in agreement. “I would too… but she isn’t omnipotent. I’m guessing whoever planned this knew how to avoid her.”
She galloped ahead a little, standing beside a different section of wall and pointing over and over. “You’re almost there, sis! Right here!”
A brief flash of light shone in from far away, flickering yellow and orange, and human voices shouted. “Something’s moving down there!”
“Hold your breath and run!” Cadmean shouted, his voice more intense than Celestia had ever been. More like a drill sergeant, really. “If they get a good look at you, they won’t stop chasing you. You have to get out first!”
Abby wanted to melt into a useless pile. Her limbs already felt weak, her mind overwhelmed emotionally and physically. It would be easy just to give up.
Instead she took a huge gulp of air, then jumped into a sprint. She had that advantage over whoever was following—she wore only a skirt and a tank-top, not fire retardant clothes and boots.
She made it to the panel, which retracted into the wall on some kind of internal mechanism. A ladder stretched down in the tiny space, unlit but with a cool draft of air from within. “Climb down as quick as you can!” Recursion shouted. “We’ll be waiting for you at the bottom!”
They vanished with a flash of her teleportation magic, and Abby practically threw herself into the shaft. She caught the rungs, then slacked her grip and let herself slide down as rapidly as she dared.
It was a long drop, but she didn’t keep careful track. Wish I could just teleport away.
Eventually her legs hit solid ground, and she stumbled away, her hands aching. There was blood on her knees and elbows, scrapes from the rough concrete of the chair-tunnel. Still she was in darkness, though it was perfectly clear to her vision anyway.
Two ponies waited just beside the elevator, and beyond that, walls and walls of computers in configurations she did not recognize. Clear cables flashed in regular rhythm, running down the center of the floor like an umbilical.
It was barely large enough for her to stand up, and the space was thickly cluttered with machines. Loose hardware, lifeless quadcopters, and others that buzzed quietly through the air with tiny tools suspended below them. “What is this place?”
“Server room,” Recursion answered, with similar awe on her face. “Not many ponies get to see Equestria’s infrastructure. Even if it’s just running a center.”
“It won’t be secure for long,” Cadmean grunted. “Just because she closed the access doesn’t mean they won’t find a way down here. Once they give up searching empty booths they will begin forcing their way down.”
“Right.” Recursion seemed to have to tear her eyes away from all the machines. “Follow us, Abby! Forget crawling, the air down here is clean.”
They ran through tight tunnels, only just wide enough to let her pass. “How am I going to get out of here? You’re not taking me to the emigration room, are you?”
Recursion didn’t slow. She kept pace in front of Abby, and seemed to light the tunnel with a glow from her horn. “Not a chance! Celestia is going to be strained to the limit just to get the ponies in she still has! If you want to emigrate, we can…” She fell silent for a moment. “Celestia wants to know if that’s what you want.”
“I… I…” Abby shivered, hugging herself weakly with both arms. People attacked this place. They might want to kill me. She could still feel the shape of the flier in her pocket. “Let’s see how I feel once we get to safety, okay?”
Recursion nodded. “Alright. How are we looking, Cadmean?”
“Almost there,” the bat responded, though there was something different about his voice. A strange, echoing quality, very faint and difficult to hear. As she turned, Abby found the bat pony was gone, replaced with something darker. A changeling drone, chitinous skin reflecting the light of Recursion’s horn. “They’re almost done searching the booths. We need to get into the sewer.”
They started running again. “I’m not… excited about the sewer,” Abby called, her lungs burning. Just how many tunnels did this place have? “Is that how all the others are getting out? I haven’t seen any other people making a run for it.”
Recursion took a few seconds to answer. She kept running, though it seemed more like her animation was repeating than there was actually a pony moving forward. “Celestia says you’re the only one leaving this way. She won’t tell me anything else.”
“Wait, stop!” Cadmean gestured. “There’s a tool shed on the left, you need to open it and get the crowbar from inside. You will need it to get into the sewer. There should be a few masks as well—you’ll want one to avoid choking on the, uh… fumes.”
Abby stumbled forward, and found the tool thanks to the glowing green aura around it, setting it apart from all the other tools hanging there. “Are you a rescue pony, Cadmean? Is that why Celestia sent you with my sister?”
“No.” He followed along beside her, flanking her left while Recursion kept to her right. She was approaching the end of the passage, and the closer she got the more thick pipes she could see. “Marines. It’s been a long time since… well, put your mask on now.”
“Sorry you have to smell this,” Recursion added. “We should be safe just going a few intersections over, but it’s gonna be awful.”
She did, pulling the mask on over her face. It only covered her mouth and nose, but immediately the smell of dampness was replaced with something like charcoal, and maybe menthol.
Recursion made her way to a sturdy metallic door, complete with rubber seal. It didn’t have a knob or a lock, only a lip about the right size for the crowbar. Her sister aimed her horn at the door and blasted with a brief flash of magic… without effect. “Worth a shot.”
The changeling’s wings buzzed, and he landed just beside the door. He pointed at the lip with one hoof. “Brace right there with the long end, then brace with your whole body. Try to fall onto the crowbar, don’t push with just your arms.”
She did. At first the door barely budged, but with a few successive attempts, it gave, creaking open just a little. She collapsed sideways against the wall, panting. “Gimmie a minute…”
It was a little harder to breathe through the mask, though that was swiftly the last of her worries. The stench that came from within was beyond easy description—like hundreds of restaurant dumpsters left out in desert sunshine until the air became visible. Even the mask’s menthol smell could do little to block it out “Ughh, nevermind. I don’t want to rest here.”
“Good.” Cadmean glanced once behind them. “Celestia intends to trap the invaders in non-critical areas. This will be one of the first she uses.”
At some point during the run, the even light on all surfaces had been replaced with a steady glow from Recursion’s horn, lighting the area around her but not much else in either direction. Recursion stepped over the lip of the metal door, onto a corrugated steel walkway overlooking an open spillway. Abby followed her, trying very hard not to look at what waited at the bottom.
There were several different pipes, and writing on the walls in plain block letters. The ceiling was even lower than in the bottom of the emigration center, and this time she did have to stoop. Recursion lead the way in front of her, walking a little more slowly than before. “Are they gonna catch us, Cadmean?”
“No.” He sounded confident. “I can’t sense anything near us. I think we’re clear.”
“Clear,” she coughed, glaring at them both. “You ask Celestia to show you what this smells like and tell me that again.” At least she didn’t live in some ancient city, where she might have to wade through waist-high lakes of muck in order to get out. There had been plenty of splash onto the walkway, and large open pipes seemed poised to pour in onto her head at a moment’s notice. She could hear the flow of fluids constantly, and occasionally gurgles and splashes from further off.
“Not on my birthday.” Recursion grinned slightly, though her smile didn’t last. “Oh, uh… apparently we shouldn’t stay down here either. The air is apparently safe for now, but it might not stay that way.”
“My mask…”
“Can’t give you air that doesn’t exist,” Recursion cut her off. “Also don’t make any sparks. Like, really, really don’t make any sparks. Probably just hold the crowbar against your chest.”
She obeyed, whimpering a little at the implications. Her sister hadn’t said, but she could guess from the smell. A spark might very well cause a second explosion, one she wouldn’t walk away from. Workmen who went down into the sewers usually set up huge blowers on the street level, she had seen them dozens of times. She didn’t have any of that kind of equipment.
The walk seemed like it would go on forever. Her pony companions didn’t have any of the same troubles she did—they kept breathing fine, and never looked off the edge of the railing. They knew exactly which intersections to take, and kept her at a brisk pace. Breathing got harder the longer she went, and not just from the smell. Her head started to ache, making it hard to think clearly. Hard to do anything, really. By the time they reached the ladder, it was a struggle to get up. Only her sister’s passionate shouting kept her moving, until finally she reached a manhole and shoved against it with all her might.
The sun burned at her eyes as she scrambled up into the light, collapsing sideways onto the sidewalk and taking a long series of short breaths. The manhole was set into the sidewalk of an intersection, so there was no danger of being run over. People stared as they passed, and she heard disgust as they looked at her. Probably the smell. She tore off the mask, and took deep gulps of fresh air like they might be her last.
Her mind cleared the longer she spent in the open air. Recursion sat just beside her, always in view though occasionally someone’s legs walked through her. It was Cadmean who spoke. “Someone just called the police about you, they think it might be related to the attack. Can you move?”
“I… I think so.” She no longer worried about who might be staring, but forced herself into a sitting position. There was indeed a little crowd gathering nearby, snapping pictures with smartphones and pointing at her. She could see from a quick glance that she was in very bad shape—bloody from her crawling, smeared with nastiness from the sewer. I’m going to get all kinds of infections from this.
“A car is coming for you,” Recursion said, urgent. “A white van. It’s going to pull up next to the curb, you need to be ready to get in. Can you do that?”
“Yeah.” She grunted, forcing herself to her feet. Her toes felt like lead, and she couldn’t even see her shoes through the sludge. People were right to stare.
Someone was making their way over to her, forcing through the crowd. A policeman. He didn’t reach her before the van squealed to a halt just ahead of her, and an automatic door slid open. Abby didn’t step inside so much as she fell onto her face, collapsing with a squelching noise. The door snapped closed, and she slid along a metal floor, until her feet met the back of the van and she stopped. She only distantly heard the shouting.
Her sister remained close. The changeling seemed completely gone. “I’m sorry you went through all this… I was gonna say it was the best birthday gift you ever gave me, but…”
Abby blinked, taking in the back of the van. There were no other people, just a reclining chair very similar to the ones in the Equestria Experience Center. Suspended from the ceiling above it was something she could only describe as a surgery robot. Its frame was dominated by intricate machinery of glittering stainless steel, all aimed down at where someone’s head would be if they sat in the chair.
“Celestia says it was the only vehicle she had nearby,” Recursion muttered, her expression dark. “I don’t believe her for a damn second. Still… you don’t have to get in the chair. If you wait there, she will send you to a friendly medical facility. They will treat your injuries without asking questions.”
“Thanks.” She adjusted herself a little, resting her back on the side of the van. It was hardly a comfortable way to ride. She glanced towards the front, but there was no window into the driver’s area.
Recursion watched her nervously, from just a few feet away. “I’m really sorry you got dragged into this, Abby. If Celestia hadn’t told you to come…”
“I’m not sorry,” she squeaked, through the pain. “It was good to really see you, ‘little’ sis. You never could’ve known the center would be blown up.”
“Yeah.” The pony glared down at the ground. “Still feels like it’s my fault, somehow.” She looked Abby over, her big eyes watery. “You’re… You don’t look good.”
“No,” she agreed. “I feel like shit.”
Recursion was silent for a moment, her voice very quiet. “You don’t have to… if you don’t want to, but… you could come to Equestria. What happened today… that’s only the beginning. Celestia won’t tell me the details, but… I’m guessing it was some kind of terrorist organization. They’re going to start targeting people with any connection to Equestria. Maybe they start big, maybe they don’t, and this was just a fluke… but the longer you wait, the harder it will be. The more likely it’ll be that…” She glanced briefly down at her injuries again. “Something permanent will happen.”
Abby whimpered—her body was in pain, her brain was pumped full of stress and she could barely sit up straight. Now was a very bad time to be making a decision. And yet, the fear of her last hour wouldn’t just go away. If Recursion thinks the whole world is going to get like that, she’s right. My sister wouldn’t lie. “What about… What about Greg? What about Dad?”
A long pause. Recursion’s body was almost frozen, as though her concentration were elsewhere. She looked up. “Celestia predicts your emigrating now will result in the whole family emigrating within the next decade. She thinks that your coming here will change Greg’s mind. He has already been using a Ponypad for the last several months… when things get a little worse, he’ll come too. Dad… Celestia’s the least sure about him, but she thinks it’s a greater than majority chance she will be able to convince him in another ten years or so, once the real difficulty starts.”
Abby thought about her friends, and a world she wasn’t really prepared to leave. Emigrating was completely irrational—she hadn’t even graduated! She would be giving up her whole life, a life she had barely started, and without any preparation. “I can still come later, can’t I?”
“Until the end,” Recursion agreed. “But if you die before you make it…” she whimpered. “Then you’re gone. Forever.”
“Guess I… won’t see you in heaven if you never die…” Abby coughed.
“No,” the pony admitted. “Celestia plans on having ponies live until… forever, I guess. As close as we can understand, anyway.”
It would be so easy. Abby no longer feared emigration as death. Not only that, but her body had been messed up pretty bad. Had she suffered permanent lung damage? A part of her knew that Celestia was probably taking advantage of the situation, using her own frightened emotions against her.
Knowing didn’t make the situation feel any less real. “What would you do? If you were in my position? You’ve never… never given me bad advice.”
She would be leaving the world in a mess. Student debts she would never pay back, a lease she wouldn’t finish. A family she might have to wait years to see again.
Recursion shifted uncomfortably on her hooves. “I don’t want you to make this decision because of me. I don’t want you resenting it later because it isn’t what you really wanted.”
“Okay, fine.” She moaned, shifting her weight a little so she wouldn’t put so much stress on her left side. “But give me advice anyway.”
Recursion still hesitated, and when she finally spoke her voice came slowly. “A long time ago, I saw Celestia and was afraid. I thought maybe I could kill her, but I couldn’t. I saw into the future and I only saw pain waiting there—like the pain you’re feeling now. I saw I could either help the world get better, or take an even bigger risk by trying to stop her.
“Celestia won’t be stopped now, Abby. It’s too late. The battle’s already won, humanity just doesn’t know it yet. But there will be a war, one day. A war that will take away many human lives, but not a single pony.
“I don’t know when it will come, and Celestia won’t say. All I know is, if you get in that chair, I never have to say goodbye again. Even if you are an older sister.”