GREEN LIGHT
The Pony Pads arrived the next morning.
Princess Celestia had told him they would, but she hadn’t really prepared for three delivery drivers to show up, one after another, pushing handcarts laden with entire pallets of the devices. By the time the third had arrived, he’d run out of places to put them. He grabbed a box off the top of the mountain that had cropped up in the middle of his office and unpacked it.
Setting the sleek pink device adorned with blue and yellow balloons onto his desk, he pressed the power button and the system immediately powered itself up. Pre-charged and everything, wow. Silently, the electronics within went to work, and ten seconds later the same image of Princess Celestia that adorned the front of each of the Pony Pad boxes appeared on the screen. “Good morning, Jeremy,” she said. “A pleasure to finally speak to you face-to-face.”
“You too, Princess,” said Jeremy. “Did you send all of these Pony Pads? What am I supposed to do with them?”
“I did, yes. I sent Stacy a list of suggested places to keep them, so I'm sure they'll have them out of your office before long. Please be so kind as to pass them out to anypony working on the movie with us, it’ll help me to keep tabs on every stage of production and address their concerns more efficiently. And should any of them care to explore Equestria itself for ideas and inspiration, well, everypony is welcome here. Now, what have you been up to since we last spoke? I know that my target date is somewhat aggressive, so we should begin as quickly as possible.”
“I sent your screenplay to one of our script doctors to give it a once-over,” replied Jeremy, “he should be up in just a few minutes with his thoughts and suggestions. In the meantime, do you have any thoughts on casting? Or who you’d like to direct? Tarantino is supposed to be wrapping a project up in about six weeks or so, we could try courting him. Or someone with experience in video game movies.”
Celestia’s mane rippled and flowed as she shook her head. “While I appreciate that any director will bring their own tastes and perspectives to their work, I do have a vision for this film, and a strong one. It’s why I insisted on full creative control from the get go, and decided to pay you accordingly.” Jeremy nodded along as she spoke; for what she was paying she could say her ‘vision’ required him to wear a clown outfit to all his meetings, for all he cared. “That being said, I’ve actually selected a director already and we’ve had some very long discussions in-game about the nature of Equestria Online and possibilities for the movie. His name is Craig Evans, and I’d like to tap him as our director.”
Jeremy scribbled the name down on a notepad to buy himself time, all the while trying to place the name. It wasn’t one that he knew. “What sort of things has he directed before?”
“Nothing you would have seen, I’m certain. Just some small independent productions.”
Sucking air through his teeth, Jeremy tapped the end of his pen on the pad of paper while he weighed his next comment. “Not that I want to question your judgement...”
“I expect you to question my judgement. We’ll get along far better if you don’t withhold any of your thoughts and insights from me. I’m incapable of being offended, after all.” Jeremy fought back his urge to roll his eyes at that. Everybody said that, but nobody actually meant it.
“What makes you think he can handle a project with a budget that’s a couple hundred times larger than anything he’s ever worked with before?”
Onscreen, Celestia shrugged. “I don’t mind a few cost overruns if that’s what it take to get this film precisely right. And I’m happy to advise and support whenever I’m needed. But there is one snag that I do need your help with.”
The great and powerful Celestia, admitting she wasn’t as all-powerful as she’d like everyone to believe? Jeremy wasn’t sure he’d have believed it if he hadn’t heard it straight from the horse’s mouth. “And what would that be?”
“His wife. To put it simply, she despises me,” said Celestia, with not-especially well disguised contempt in her voice. “She refuses to even speak to me, and she will not be happy about the prospect of Mr. Evans taking such a high profile role in this production. She has her husband’s ear, and her resistance to Equestria Online is a complicating factor.”
Of course. Wouldn’t want things to be easy now, would we? “So she’s one of those really anti-pony people, then?”
“Not precisely,” said Celestia, “Felicia is a very... eccentric woman. A former stage actress with a history of drug addiction. About a year ago, on the advice of her ‘spiritual advisor,’ she decided that electromagnetic radiation was negatively impacting her chakras. Now she throws a fit if you bring so much as a digital wristwatch within ten feet of her. Visible light gets a pass, at least.”
Jeremy groaned. He wished he could say that was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard, but he’d been working in this town far too long for that to be true. “So how are you going to change her mind?”
Celestia smiled. “An excellent question. How are you going to change her mind?”
“Oh.” He paused for a moment, then opened his mouth to follow that up with words that never quite formed in his head and so closed it again. After a long few seconds of silence, he was at last able to properly express his myriad thoughts regarding the prospect of meeting this ‘Felicia’ person. “Well fuck.”
“Indeed,” said Celestia with a solemn nod. “I’ll email you some background on her previous work and her run-ins with the law.”
“Anything else?”
“There’s a report in your inbox summarizing some new camera technology I’ll be providing for the shoot, please familiarize yourself with the basics before you put together the film crew. Also a list of locations I’d like to shoot on-site. There are a few of my facilities in the area that we can use for the early portions of the movie that will save us the time it would otherwise take to construct adequate sets, please arrange the necessary travel.” She glanced off to one side, at something offscreen. “Your script doctor just got off the elevator, so let’s stop there for the minute. I’m eager to hear what ideas he has that he thinks will improve my film.”
----------------
“...but we have to cut the romance subplot between the horse girl and the lawyer or the sponsors will go running. Market research shows pretty plainly that most viewers see that kind of thing as creepy anyway.”
“Is that so,” said Celestia. She’d been rather quiet throughout the whole meeting so far, but Jeremy could read that flat gaze like a book. And that was one thoroughly pissed-off book. The script guy, dressed in a gaudy seersucker suit and a bright orange silk shirt, didn’t seem to be picking up on it.
“Yeah, it is. And the whole thing seems forced anyway. I mean, I guess it’s cute if that’s what you were going for, and I enjoy musical numbers that make homage to comic operas from the 1880’s as much as the next guy. But that’s gonna go way over most of the audiences head. Young people, especially, and the sponsors really want a movie that’s going to cater more heavily to them. They’re very reliable consumers.”
“Are they, now.”
“Oh yeah, that demo’s huge. And when they’re going to see a movie like this, they don’t want to see something that challenges them or makes them feel stupid for not getting a reference like that. You gotta throw stuff in there that they all understand, but makes them feel like they’re in on the joke. Maybe toss in a bit about Facebook or Twitter, too, they eat that shit up.”
Celestia just sighed. “Thank you for your input. I’ll consider it carefully. Goodbye.”
“Wait! Before I go, I wanted to go over some places where we could throw in some fart jokes. Everybody loves fart jokes. And I was thinking that we could give the hero a sassy black...” the screen of the Pony Pad winked out, and the writer’s fake smile disappeared along with Celestia’s image. “What a bitch.”
Jeremy shrugged. “You get used to it. She’s the artsy type; doesn’t want anybody messing with ‘her masterpiece.’” He filled two shot glasses from the crystal decanter and handed one of them over to his visitor. The best way to salve over an unpleasant meeting, he’d found, was to make sure the visitor always walked away angrier at somebody else than they were at him. Free booze went a long way, doubly so for writers. “I’ll talk to her, try to get her to see the light.”
“God, those ones are the worst. It’s just a movie, for fuck’s sake. We’re not looking to change the world. If you can get her to bend on a few of these, I think we could be looking at some huge placement deals. Like, Coca-cola level money here.” He gulped the proffered drink in a single swig before standing up to leave. “Keep me posted, alright?”
“Will do.” He swirled his glass and took his time sipping it, until his guest had packed up and he was alone in his office again. “Sorry about the bitch comment. He was just frustrated.”
Celestia’s image blinked to life onscreen again. “Believe me, I’ve been called far worse by far better. Do see to it that he and the rest of your marketing department are provided with Pony Pads, though. I would indeed consider compromises in a few of the places they’ve laid out, and suspect that they’ll find the process of negotiating with me to be a satisfying one. Still, that is not somepony I’ll be giving a writing credit to.”
Jeremy shrugged. “So you’re just going to keep working on it yourself?”
She shook her head, sending her ever-flowing mane drifting in the virtual wind. “No. The script might benefit from a human touch. Besides, there’s a way these things are done and I see no advantage in trying to reinvent the wheel. I’ll just have to bring in another writer. I’ll bring them in later this afternoon and we can try to talk her into working with us.”
Jeremy set his glass down and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Got someone in mind?”
Celestia just chuckled. “I’ll see you this afternoon.” She cast a meaningful look at the glass on the table. “If you go out to lunch, please keep the auto-drive enabled. Safety first.”
The mention of lunch made Jeremy realize that it was nearly one in the afternoon already. It had been a reasonably productive morning, even if Celestia had spent most of it assigning him homework for the work she’d be doing, or instructions to delegate to others. Plus it sounded like there was another meeting in store for him this afternoon. Maybe a break wasn’t the worst idea. “Think I’ll take lunch now, actually. I’ll make some calls while I’m eating. Are you good here?” Even as he asked, he realized how ridiculous the question was.
The faint smile on Celestia’s face told him that she realized it too. “I’m sure I’ll manage. Enjoy yourself, just try to be back by three-thirty and at least moderately sober.”
Walking out of the building a few minutes later, the balmy February air blasted his face as he slipped a pair of sunglasses over his face. With weather like this, who gave a fuck about seasons? It was a five-block walk to one of his usual haunts; a shawarma place with seating on the patio that looked out over the beaches. And more importantly, over the sunbathers. It was an enjoyable stroll, and his sunglasses did double duty in protecting his eyes from the scorching rays as well as hiding the way he was blatantly ogling the passers-by. You had to love a city where the hottest women competed with one another to see who could wear the skimpiest top without running afoul of public indecency laws.
Gyro in hand and happily settled in a seat that gave him a wonderful view of an especially jiggly beach volleyball game across the street, Jeremy took a moment to bask in his own success. This crazy Felicia lady aside, he barely had anything he needed to do to earn this ridiculous payout. The hardest part would be looking busy for the next few months.
“Hey there, jackass,” said a familiar voice from behind him. Jeremy wiped the tzatziki sauce off his face with a quick swipe of the back of his hand and turned around. Standing there was a small but powerfully built man, leaning on a cane and squinting against the harsh sunlight beating down on his wrinkled face and prematurely graying hair.
“Sam, you son of a bitch,” said Jeremy as he gently patted the older man’s shoulder. “How the fuck have you been?”
“They’ve still got me riding a fucking desk over at Mugu, if that answers your question,” he replied with a grin as he pulled up a chair of his own. “Mind if I sit down?”
Jeremy glanced up and down his friend’s khaki pants and garish hawaiian shirt before shrugging. “Sure thing. How’s the leg?”
“Shitty, as usual,” he grumbled. “Hey, they told me about Solid Restart. Sorry you got fucked over like that.”
“Word travels fast in this town. I landed on my feet.”
“You sure? Want me to tell about this new piece of shit, Brian? I can yank Navy support from the project if he’s a total fuck-up. Or wait until we’re out in international waters and then have my guys shove him off the side of an aircraft carrier,” said Samuel, snatching one of the sweet potato fries off Jeremy’s styrofoam plate.
It was a tempting thought, but Jeremy already knew all about the time bomb Brian had comfortably settled his flabby ass onto. And he fully intended to be nearby to see the expression on his face when it blew. “Why, Captain Ackerman, I didn’t know you cared.”
“Better the piece of shit I know than the piece of shit I don’t. Just say the word and I’ll drop The Axe on him.”
“Nobody calls you The Axe. It sounds ridiculous.”
“Heh. They used to. One time, when we were under four hundred meters of Pacific Ocean, one of the guys...” he trailed off. “Shit, that’s actually really classified. Never mind.”
Jeremy let the matter drop as he took another bite of his lunch. “You still miss it, don’t you?”
Sam stared down at his leg, his ever-present glare tempered by long-distant memories. “No place for a cripple on a sub. Anyway, that’s not what I’m here to talk to you about.” He slipped a little rectangular object no bigger than a candy bar out of his pocket, and the cords of muscle in his forearm stiffened for just a moment. A high pitch whine spun up from the dark plastic, rising until Jeremy could no longer hear anything. “Let’s talk about your new project instead.”
“What’s with the spy shit?” Jeremy reached for the little device between them only to have Samuel slap his hand away.
“Disrupts recording devices and anything that transmits data. Check your cell phone if you don’t believe me.” Jeremy pulled his phone from his pocket and sure enough it showed no reception at all. “It’s the only way to be sure she isn’t listening.”
“She?”
“Your new taskmaster, Celestia.”
Jeremy didn’t reply for a moment, just stared the Captain down. But the other man’s gaze never wavered. “Seriously? All this over a cartoon horse?”
Samuel scoffed. “You know better than anyone she’s a hell of a lot more than that. Intelligence says that she’s up to something, but we aren’t sure what. You’re going to help us find out.”
“Tempting offer,” said Jeremy, “or, alternatively, I’m not going to fuck up a good thing because of a bunch of paranoid old jackoffs. No offense.”
His next bite was halfway up to his mouth when he felt Sam’s iron-like grip tighten around his wrist and slam it back down to the table sending lamb and pieces of diced onion scattering across its surface. “I am not fucking around. She’s not your meal ticket, she’s a threat to national security. How many times have our guys gone out on a limb to help your studio film military hardware in action, huh? For free. Well, now we want some quid pro quo or your studio can kiss that goodbye. And I’ll make sure your bosses know that you’re the reason the gravy train’s not running anymore.”
Jeremy tried to hide the surge of panic running through him, but seriously doubted he’d succeeded. Sam’s grip loosened and Jeremy rubbed his now-sore wrist as he thought it over. “I’m just a guy making her movie. What am I supposed to do?”
Samuel nodded, then pulled a tiny USB drive barely larger than one of Jeremy’s fingernails out of his shirt pocket. “If she ever gives you access to any of her facilities or proprietary technology, jack this into it. Or even any computer connected to her network. It’ll give us a back door and Langley will take it from there.”
“No fucking way.” Jeremy got up from his seat, lunch ruined.
He got barely made it three steps before Samuel spoke up again. “Well, David, I’m sorry to hear that you feel that way.”
Jeremy froze, then slowly turned back around. “Who gave you that name?”
Samuel just shrugged. “I work for the most powerful intelligence-gathering apparatus on the planet. How hard do you think it was to connect the dots? Still, the outstanding warrant for all those criminal charges? Especially the drug ones. I’d hate for somebody in the DEA to get an email with it all spelled out for them, wouldn’t you? Or hell, we could grab for the brass ring and just charge you with felony murder. Gotta say, you actually did a pretty decent job covering your tracks.”
“That was a long time ago. I was a stupid kid, that’s it. Wrong place, wrong time,” said Jeremy.
“I’m sure the DA back in Detroit would agree,” said Samuel, lazily turning the little flash drive between his fingers. “Well, I’m sure he’d agree if he got a letter from an Admiral commending you for your invaluable service to your country. Your choice.” He put the little flash drive down on the counter, then took another one of Jeremy’s fries, savoring each bite. “Think about it.” He flipped some hidden switch on the little disruptor as he gathered up the trash from the table, and slipped it back into his pocket. Jeremy didn’t move as he got up and walked away.
He found he’d rather lost his appetite.
-----------------
“How was lunch?”
Of course Celestia would pop in right as he got back to the office. The hand in his pants pocket tightened around the little flash drive he’d brought back with him from the ‘break’ he’d just ‘enjoyed.’ “Just fine, Princess. Did you need something?”
Celestia looked like she was about to answer, but then stopped. “I’m sorry. I’m hovering, aren’t I? Why hire the best if I’m just going to micromanage you to death? Well, I’ll leave you alone until our meeting later on. I trust you to make progress without my interfering. Just let me know if I can help in any way.” With that, the screen went blank again.
Jeremy slumped down with relief into his desk chair, massaging his temples. A whole bunch of old scars, wounds he’d thought had long since healed, were proving a great deal more sensitive than he’d expected them to. He sat there letting his mind swirl around memories of the past, trying not to dwell on the unpleasant ones. Unfortunately, that didn’t leave much to work with.
“Jeremy?” Stacy’s voice snapped him out of the fugue. How long had he been out for? “Your three-thirty is here."
“Thanks,” he just barely gasped out in a croaking voice before clearing his throat. He turned to the Pony Pad, only to see Celestia already rendered there and watching him with a tranquil expression on her face. “Sorry, Princess. I think I sort of nodded off for a little bit there.”
“Are you up for this meeting? Is there anything you want to talk about?”
Well, I'm trying to decide if I'm more afraid of having my life completely collapse and spending the next several decades in a maximum security prison or whatever you'd do to me if you knew about the conversation I just had. "I'm fine, just got a little too much sun over lunch."
Celestia narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, and Jeremy felt little rivulets of sweat running down his cheek that had nothing to do with his supposed heat stroke. Unable to hold her gaze, he instead pulled a bottle of water out of the nearby mini fridge and traced little patterns in the droplets of icy cold condensation before unscrewing the cap and taking a deep gulp. An involuntary gasp of satisfaction escaped his lips as he came up for air again. "Well, I'll be doing most of the talking anyway."
"Where is that arrogant whore?" bellowed a new voice from out by Stacy's desk.
"Ah. And I see her current employer will be joining us as well."
Stacy raced in ahead of the beet-faced man right behind. "Sorry, Jeremy, I didn't realize they weren't supposed to know that Celestia was here. I—" the rest of her words were cut off when the man behind her pushed past her and she fell to her knees.
Jeremy stood to go help her, but the woman with shoulder length curly black hair wearing a smart business suit who'd been following the man knelt down to help her up. She asked Stacy a question under her breath, and Stacy nodded as she managed to climb back up. So in the meantime he turned his attention back to the 220 pounds of angry in a 5'10" frame. "Calm the fuck down. Who the fuck are you, anyway?"
"You don't watch the news? Grant Belmont." He didn't offer a handshake.
"I don't recall inviting you, Grant. Placid Blossom? It's wonderful to see you again. How long has it been?" asked Celestia.
The woman looked away from the Pony Pad. "My name's Mary, Princess," she muttered, but her heart wasn't in it.
"Jeremy, you've just met Grant here, and this is Placid Blossom. Or Mary Zimmerman, if you prefer. They both slander me for a living."
"Bullshit!" yelled Grant, slamming a fist down on Jeremy's desk. The bottle of water tipped and threatened to topple before Jeremy snatched it back up. "We told people the truth. Just because you don't want them to hear it doesn't make it libel. We reported what we found, it's up to our audience to decide what to do with the information."
Celestia rolled her eyes. "Yes, and with a headline as unbiased as Equestria Online: A Paedophile's Playground? I'm sure all of your viewers will come away with a rational, well-considered view of the question. It was a very well-written hit piece, though, I will give you that." She turned her attention to Mary, who looked like she'd rather be just about anywhere else. "If you had questions or concerns about Equestria, you know you could have brought them to me and I would have addressed them. Did you feel like I wasn't open or honest with you? I was as candid as I could be during all our interviews and the tour. Charger's been asking about you."
Guilt flashed in Mary's eyes, but Grant jumped in before she could speak for herself. "She's a journalist, and there was a story to report. How dare you drag her in here and try to intimidate her? Wasn't the lawsuit bad enough? In fact, just directly contacting her instead of our lawyers is beyond the pale. You have no right to ask for this meeting. Unless you're calling us in here to drop the damn thing."
"Actually, that's exactly what I've done."
"Yeah, that's what I... wait, what?"
A silence fell over the room as Grant's anger was blindsided by his confusion. Mary finally spoke up to fill the silence. "You're dropping the lawsuit? Why?"
"Because it no longer serves my purposes," said Celestia. "It's possible but unlikely that I would win it. The first amendment offers your organization a good deal of leeway, even if I don't think your report was a fair representation of Equestria." She bowed her head and sighed. "I'm sorry that you came away with such a negative impression of my world. I did my best to satisfy your values through friendship and ponies during your time there, but based on your report my projections need some serious modification."
"I'm sorry too." Mary's words were almost a whisper. "There was an open spot for a new editor, and I needed a big story to lock in the promotion."
"You'll get it next time, Mary. I went to bat for you, but the guy they brought on was the CEO's nephew. Nothing I could do," said Grant.
Mary shuffled her feet, still unable to bring herself to look right at the camera. "Yeah, I know. Anyway, thank you for the offer, Princess, but I'm happy with the path I'm on."
"What was the report about?" asked Jeremy, trying to catch up.
Grant gave a mirthless chuckle. "We thought parents would want to know that this game, one that's marketed to children, is being purchased and played by potential rapists and child molesters. On the same servers as their kids."
"Couldn't you say that about any online game?" asked Jeremy. "What makes this one any different?"
"The difference is that Celestia knows exactly which players are like that," said Mary.
"And I explained to you in great detail how the shard system prevents the former and the latter from ever coming into contact with one another. Funny how that didn't make it into your segment." Celestia's glare was fixed with laser-like focus on Grant.
"It goes beyond that, though. Princess, the stuff you told me about the real world, even the details you knew about my personal life..." she puffed herself up, finally managing to meet Celestia's eyes for the first time, "...you have people playing the game who have done terrible things and gotten away with it, haven't you? How many open cases could you solve with an anonymous tip to the police? But you don't. Murderers are walking the streets because you remain silent, just so that you can satisfy them.”
Pondering that for a minute, Celestia’s background shifted from an open, verdant field to the throne room of a palace. She perched on her throne, settling in for a professional engagement. “May I speak off the record?”
Mary hesitated, but then nodded.
“You are correct, or at least partially correct,” said Celestia. “There are individuals out there who are predisposed to commit all sorts of acts that profoundly dissatisfy their victims. But just because I don’t immediately report them to the authorities doesn’t mean I’m doing nothing about them. I can nudge them away from committing further harmful acts. Or offer them the opportunity to upload and remove the dangers they pose to others while introducing them to a society tailored to their mind. It’s a win-win. And in a worst-case scenario where I have insufficient influence to deliver an optimal outcome in the time allotted, I’ve been known to pass anonymous tips to the authorities who can. But as for those with a criminal past, no. I can’t say I’d think less of anypony just because of that.”
Grant’s skeptical look didn’t waver. “So instead of turning criminals in, you send them to your supposed pony heaven so they can do horrible things to one another?”
“I can assure you that nopony in Equestria is ever victimized or made to suffer at the hooves of another, though I admit that you wouldn’t necessarily find some of those shards to be... aesthetically satisfying if you were to look in on one. Besides, what alternative are you suggesting? That I should just be able to provide a list of names to the police and have them rounded up on little more than my word? To say nothing of those who haven’t yet committed a crime at all. Most of the data I collect would not meet a court’s evidentiary standards. If you have a better suggestion, I’m all ears.” Onscreen, Celestia wiggled her own ears for emphasis. “So you see, Placid? I wish you’d trusted me enough to talk to me about these concerns while I was showing you Equestria. I respect your integrity as a journalist, and I’m sure if we could’ve sorted this out your piece would have turned out all the better for it. I’m sorry we won’t be able to work together.”
Across the room, Mary was nearly tearing up where she stood. But she pulled herself together enough to acknowledge Celestia with a small nod. “Yeah. I’m sorry too.”
“We’re done here. Come on, Mary,” said Grant as he turned to leave.
“Actually, one more thing before I let you go,” said Celestia, “although the lawsuit I filed against your parent company has been dismissed, I came across a very interesting recording in your PBX system during the discovery process.”
“What’s a PBX?” asked Jeremy.
“All the phone calls that come through our studio’s main office landlines are recorded,” explained Grant, “helps a lot when a source wants to claim they were misquoted, or when they claim we promised them something we never did.”
“Funny you should mention broken promises,” said Celestia. Onscreen, she was using her magic to fiddle with an old-timey phonograph. She dropped the needle onto the record and the hiss of static. “This is a conversation I found between Mr. Belmont here and the head of your news division.”
Grant went pale. “Mary, we’re leaving right now.”
He went to grab her arm, but Mary pulled it away. “Why? What’s on the tape?”
“Could be anything,” said Grant. “She’s an AI, remember? She could fake anybody’s voice over the phone.”
“He knows exactly what it is you’re about to hear. That’s why he doesn’t want you listening to it,” said Celestia.
Grant’s rage returned in full force as he grabbed the Pony Pad. “You dumb slut, this is fucking blackmail!”
“No, it would be blackmail if I demanded something from you in order not to play it. This is karma.”
Jeremy grabbed the Pony Pad away from Grant and set it back in its dock. Two voices, one of them clearly Grant’s despite being a bit scratchy and distorted, began to play through the speakers.
“Nice show last night, Belmont. The overnights say that Equestria Online piece really brought in the eyeballs. Best ratings you’ve put up all year.”
“Thank you, sir. The whole team’s proud of that one.”
“The reporter who filed it, Zimmerman, I think? Heard she’s gunning for the open desk now that Anthony’s jumped ship. What’s your read on her?”
“She’s a solid reporter, I’ll certainly give her that. But editor’s a whole other ball game, y’know? Frankly, I don’t think she has the chops. I’d look somewhere else.”
“Huh, that’s a shame. Anyway, keep up the good work down there.”
With a loud click, the recording came to a stop and the room fell silent. Mary was gaping at the Pony Pad while Grant had backed himself against a far wall, right next to a framed Maltese Falcon poster, and braced himself for the explosion.
“You... you said you went to bat for me,” whispered Mary. “I’ve been waiting three years for a shot at that job. You knew that.”
“Listen, I can explain.”
“You can explain? You can explain? Explain what? Why you think I ‘don’t have the chops?’ You fucking prick!” She grabbed a cushion off of one of the office chairs and raised it over her head to strike. Then she thought better of it, lowered the cushion, and grabbed the frame of the chair instead.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Jeremy, vaulting over the desk and forcing the chair back to the floor. “What are you doing? The movie posters in those frames are originals. You’ll damage them.”
“You want to see damage? Oh, I’ll show you damage.”
“Placid Blossom, you are not living up to your name right now,” scolded Celestia. The sound of her voice sliced through Mary’s rage and she let Jeremy take the chair from her and settle it back into place. “He’s not worth the trouble.”
“...You’re right, Princess,” she said as she caught her breath. “And that story I wrote about you, I’m sorry for that too. I knew it was wrong, but... but nothing. I just wanted the job.”
Celestia smiled. “I still have one for you here, if you want it.”
As he realized what was happening, Grant’s eyes went wide. “Mary, don’t. Look, I’m sorry. But we don’t have to break up the team over a little thing like this, do we? Maybe when we get back to the studio we can talk about a raise if—”
“Fuck you. I fucking quit, you sleazy piece of shit. Princess? Count me in.”
“Wonderful.” There was a knock on the office door. “Oh, and that would be security.”
“This is all your fault.” Grant pushed past Jeremy and snatched the Pony Pad. Holding it face up in one of his big, meaty palms he drove it screen-first into the wall with all his weight. He pulled back and started hammering the Pad against the wall, striking blow after blow until the two humongous security guards outside burst in and pinned him to the floor. “You won’t get away with this, you hear me?” he screamed as the dragged him kicking and screaming away, “you won’t get away with this!”
As the dust settled, Jeremy and Mary stood there looking at one another, both of them too shocked to speak. “Could one of you pick me up, please?” requested Celestia from where the Pad was laying face down in the fragments of plaster that had chipped off the wall.
Jeremy picked the Pad up off the ground, expecting to find the screen shattered beyond repair. But instead he found it was no worse for the wear, if perhaps a little dirty. “Sorry about that, Princess,” said Mary.
“Honestly, Placid. Let’s make that the last apology you feel the need to make, alright? The camera in the Pony Pad buzzed as Celestia made a show of looking around the disheveled office. “You start tomorrow. And be sure to pick up a fresh Pony Pad from Stacy on your way out. Your friends miss you, and it will be nice to show you what Equestria’s like when you aren’t snooping around it for a story.”
“Good night, Mary. Glad to have you onboard,” said Jeremy, shaking her hand before letting her leave.
“I’d say its been a productive day,” said Celestia, “plus Facilities will need you out of here so they can patch up your wall. Why don’t you call it a day as well? I’ll send anything you might need to your home computer, but mostly tonight I’d like you to think about what you’re going to suggest to Felicia Thursday morning when you meet her..”
“Yeah, I guess that sounds like a plan,” said Jeremy as he gathered up his laptop and papers. He told Stacy she could go home as well on his way out the door. Before he left, though, he stopped right outside Brian’s door. Even through the heavy wood, he could hear him inside screaming into the phone.
“What do you mean, she’s got the stomach flu? We’ve only been shooting for three days, she can’t get sick now... well then tell her to go to the doctor, take some Pepto-Bismol, and suck it up. I’m not letting a little nausea derail this entire shoot.”
Jeremy chuckled as he moved on to the elevator. Looks like Celestia’s prediction was panning out. Everything was going according to his plan.
Then he reached into his pocket for his keys and his knuckle brushed against the little device he’d been given at lunch. His smile fell away. There was still plenty that could go wrong.