//------------------------------// // Tough To Be A God - Engineer // Story: Tritonus // by Catullus Sedecim //------------------------------// The yellow stallion’s hooves clopped along the balcony. He looked back to the pink mare, then back out to the rest of Equestria. Lords of Equestria. Right. Sure. Equestria should have been a nice place. Bright colors. One of the brightest, happiest, most colorful universes in the metaverse. Metaverse. He still had trouble wrapping his mind around the concept. A whole multiverse full of multiverses. And he, of all peo... Ponies... Was part of monitoring it. Were there more metaverses out there? Maybe a metaverse of metaverses? A... He didn’t even know what the word would be. Uberverse? Would he even be able to UNDERSTAND a word like that? He’d never been that special. He was just an engineer. Sure, an engineer on one of the most important ships in the fleet, but what did that matter? Just an engineer. An engineer who worked on developing the longest ranged communications system in history, yeah, but whatever. He was a GOOD engineer. Computers were easy. He’d been good with them. It was people he wasn’t as good with. They scared him. And germs. Those scared him. Teleporters. Explosions. Loud noises. Cats. Okay, LOTS of things had scared Engineer in the past. But as far as he was concerned, that was normal. People should be as scared as he was all the time. If you weren’t scared, you weren’t trying hard enough. When you put your mind to it, anything could be scary. And now, there were whole new things. Sure, he couldn’t die of an illness, and could probably survive even a severe teleporter accident. He wasn’t sure about explosions, but they’d have to be pretty big. Or kill him instantly. And they’d probably bring him back anyway. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Humanity had been an easy job. You lived for a while, a century or two at most, then you stopped. He figured he could stop being scared when he was a hundred or so. When you reached that far, something would get you at some point, so what was the point. But he was only 43 when he’d been made an Agent, and rechristened Engineer. He wasn’t sure how old he was, now. He’d spent what must have been a few decades being trained, so he was probably at least 83. They’d been here for six years, make that 89. He’d done a century on a post-apocalyptic world, he recalled, that had been terrifying. 189, then another half century on- “Not worth counting.” He looked up. “What?” Fashionista eased from a reclining position, up into a sitting one. She was grace incarnate. That might have been literal. “Your age. You’re trying to figure out your age.” She shook her head, “It’s not worth counting. You’re beyond that, now.” “Easy for you to say. You never had to deal with it to begin with.” She scared him. Both of them did. She scared him slightly less. Well, a lot less. Still, she scared him. The pair of them never seemed right. Around normal ponies, they were always too perfect. Like half-programmed simulations. In private, they were downright terrifying. He wondered if he still seemed right to the rest of the world. He wondered how long that would take for that to change. “Details, love, details.” She got up, and he stepped back slightly, instinctively as she approached him. She laughed, “You’re one of the most powerful creatures in the universe, dear. The least you can do is have some dignity.” He sighed, and relaxed. She might have scared him, but that one wasn’t rational. With Maestro, it was very, very rational. Her? She was just weird. Probably could erase him from existence, but wouldn’t. Most people could kill you when you were human, anyway. “Look, Fashionista, it just doesn’t sit right with me.” “What doesn’t?” “This.” He waved his hoof, “Watching Equestria, one of the happiest places in the Metaverse, turned into this? A 1930s hellhole? For this assignment? It’s not fun, and this” He gestured to his cutie mark, a green head of broccoli on his flank, “Is DEFINITELY not funny.” She covered her mouth with a hoof, “It’s a little funny.” “I’m an engineer, not a farmer!” He sighed, and looked over the balcony. “We don’t need to mess with ponies to get what we want. We’ve been here for six years, and we haven’t found what we’re waiting for. We-Gah!” He started as she placed her hooves on his shoulders, then relaxed slightly. “What are you saying, dear?” He stumbled for his spot in the conversation. “Why does he have to mess with them like that?” “It’s how he works. He can’t help it any more than a human can help breathing.” “I think he finds it fun.” He sighed. All of Equestria, turned totally upside down. The smoke rising from the campfires in the moonvilles. Half the people there had probably been wealthy in the past. “He’s made for art. This is the only art he understands.” He snorted, and pawed at the ground, “That’s supposed to make me feel better? ‘Oh, don’t worry about the sadistic sociopath, he can’t actually control himself.’ You have a funny type reassurance.” He shied away as she tried to give his cheek a kiss, and giggled instead. “You’re cute.” “I’m freaked out, is what I am. Look.” He looked at her, “I don’t need this to get my technology. You don’t need this to get the fashion. Why are we here? With him?” “The world needs music. We’re here to assist.” He laughed, “Right. Look.” He looked serious, “He’s a hundred times more powerful than me, and I wouldn’t like your odds in a fight either. If this was about raw power, we wouldn’t be here. We’re not his assistants.” He sighed, “We’re his babysitters.” He saw her smile fade a bit, and she joined him in looking out over the sitting, the factories pumping steam into the air, the bright lights of the wealthy quarters, the smoke and campfires of Moonville. The hustle and bustle of a city, and everypony here miserable. The wealthy were as sad as the poor. Maestro made sure of that. “We’ll finish our work, and he’ll finish his, and we can go on.” “And we can go on, for a while. Mess with more people’s minds, and lives. Get to play God a million more times. I don’t want to do it.” “Darling, you must have. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t the right man for the job. So to speak.” “Sure.” He sighed, “But it’s sickening. All these people bowing and scraping like I’m some deity and not some coward from Cleveland.” “We’ll just finish and go on our merry ways. You can forget it. Put the memory in something to store it, take it out of your head. Poof. We won’t remember any more than they do.” “Yeah, but it’ll still have happened. Even if we unmake it happen, it’ll still have happened. I’ll still have done it. And then, I’ll have to do it again.” “These assignments ARE rare.” She reminded him softly, “You’ll probably not have to do it for a while.” “I’m going to live infinitely long. That means I’m going to have to do this an infinite number of times. And with him, an infinite number of times. Smaller degrees of infinity, but still infinite. And infinity is a big number.” “It’s not a number.” “I know it’s not a number! I’ve been an engineer for long enough to know that! But it’s a big non-number. And I’m going to have to be a big non-number of gods, get worshipped by a big non-number of people, and I’m probably going to mess something up and have to STAY that for years - WHICH I KNOW DON’T MATTER.” He could feel the music starting. Great, he hated singing. “Fashionista, I don’t know, I just...” Yep, there it was. A jaunty tune. Probably a duet. “I just don’t think I’m qualified To come across all sanctified I just don’t cut it with the Cherubim” She laughed, “Engineer, what are you talking about?” She pointed to the crowd below, “There again, they’re on their knees Being worshipped is a breeze Which rather suits us in the interim” “The interim?” He said, “The interim, it’s me and him!” He paused “Oh my god...” “It’s tough to be a god. Tread where mortals have not trod. Be deified, when really, you’re a sham. Be an object of devotion. Be a subject of song.” She smiled, “It’s a rather touching notion, all those prayers, and those salaams. So who am I to bridle, if I’m forced to be an idol?” She gave a shrug “If they say that I’m a god, that’s what I am.” “What’s more if we don’t comply,” he looked around, “With the Maestro’s wishes I Could see us being sacrificed Or stuffed” She gave a dismissive laugh, “That’s right, that’s very good thinking So let’s be gods! The perks are great Equestria on a plate” He could have sworn her face dropped a bit, “Our bosses feelings should not be rebuffed” “Never rebuff, never rebuff the bosses feelings, No my friend...” “It’s tough to be a god, But if you get the boss’s nod. Count your blessings, keep it sweet That’s my advice.” He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, great advice.” “Be a symbol of perfection!” She urged him, “Be a legend! Be a cult! Take their praise, take up collection As the multitudes exult Dawn a supernatural habit, We’d be crazy not to grab it So sign on two new gods for paradise.” They sang together, finally, “Paradiiiiiiiiise.” The music died down. But even as it got calmer, and she returned to her placid expression, he raised his voice. “See what I mean?” He asked, “See? New gods? What does it mean, new gods? I’ve been an agent for centuries, if that’s even a thing. You’ve been doing it since before time began. You’re the opposite of a new god. We both are. Gods look up to US.” She sighed, “It’s alright, Engineer.” “It’s not alright! And another thing!” He was pacing quicker. “How come I had to sing there, huh?” “It’s the universe.” “It’s not the universe, it’s him! We got the rewrite, it’s clear. I do the tech, you do the fashion, he does the music. But you can’t MAKE him wear an outfit, and I can’t get him to use a lighter for his cigarettes. But we have to sing, like it or not.” “You have a beautiful singing voice.” “Not the p-I do?” He stopped, blushing. Sure, she was a pony, but at the moment, so was he. And she was a pretty pony. He wasn’t used to pretty peo-ponies giving him compliments. “Of course you do dear.” She gave him a pat on the cheek, “Why don’t you go for a walk. You’re just going to get yourself more and more upset.” She smiled, “Go find Twilight. She likes you.” “Yeah, right. She probably just misses being able to do math.” She winced. “Right. Sorry.” He shook his head, “I’m getting worked up.” He sighed, “Maybe I do need something.” “There. See?” She smiled, “Nothing to worry about.” He went to leave. Talking to Twilight did cheer him up. She was a good kid. Pony. She was sweet. Sweet. But dumb.