Cadmean resisted the urge to break something. Not because he didn’t want to, or because he thought anything in the apartment (or the universe) had any value. Rather, because he didn’t want to be overheard. Recursion might be gone—his chance to see the real world snatched away because of Recursion’s stupid pride—but that didn’t mean he couldn’t find something else to amuse himself.
Cadmean’s entire world had been created for that purpose, a hive of endless captive ponies to do with as he wished—a hive that had conquered Equestria and saw him as its hero, the reason some kind of Canterlot invasion had succeeded. He was certain Celestia had written it that way to shame him—every time he was praised, it was another knife in his gut, a reminder that once he had been a hero. What was he now?
Angry that things hadn’t gone his way. Cadmean stomped through the halls, staying away from the front room where Recursion’s programs were doing program things. More likely they don’t exist in there. Probably they don’t run when nobody is around to see them. Save space. Even so, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t notice him if he wasn’t careful. If Cadmean wanted to escape, he would have to draw on every ounce of stealth his body possessed.
He had one advantage: they would still think he had gone to Earth. So long as he was careful not to correct that impression, they would probably keep thinking it.
Cadmean gently shut the door to the master bedroom. He had gone over this apartment quite thoroughly when the doctors locked him inside, and he knew what he was looking for. Behind a stylized painting of Earthrise there was a concealed safe, with a magical identifier crystal instead of a traditional lock. He had tried and failed to crack that safe, but hadn’t been able to.
Now he was certain he could. Cadmean transformed. The magic still felt a little unnatural—it drew on his precious reserve of stored love, transforming his body. In this case, that meant growing a blue coat, losing the frills and gaining a ginger mane, and going from stallion to mare. He even copied Recursion’s Cutie Mark, with its infinite fractal. He had seen it often enough that he probably could’ve imitated it in his sleep.
Transformation never felt quite natural. Patching the holes in his limbs and losing his protective armor shell almost felt like he was giving up the only weapon Celestia had ever given him. Still, when it was for such a good cause…
Cadmean approached the safe, and reached out with one hoof. He had practiced this transformation several times now, knowing full well it was his only chance of escape if he decided to run. Now was the time to put that practice to use. The crystal glowed as he touched it, a brief blue light that washed over his body for a second. Then came a mechanical click from inside, and the safe swung slightly open.
The inside was mostly empty. There were only a series of metallic bars, each one about four inches long and broken into ten smaller sections, like a chocolate bar. He lifted one in his magic, inspecting it. Each one of the squares was marked with Celestia’s seal, and an infinitesimal “10k B.” on the reverse side. Cadmean very nearly dropped the metal bar—this wasn’t silver, it was platinum. Cadmean had just discovered greater wealth than he had ever touched in his life.
Cadmean fished around on Recursion’s desk until he found a little velvet bag, which turned out to be full of cheap jewelry. He dumped it out into a drawer, and used it to hold all twenty of the bars. Two million bits. That insufferable pony was keeping a fortune a few feet away from me and never said. What could Cadmean do with that kind of money? He intended to find out.
Of course, he would have to get out first. He shut the safe and replaced the painting—the easy part was done. Now came the difficult bit. How could he get out of the apartment?
First, he would have to hide the money. Recursion didn’t wear jewelry that he had ever seen, or carry a purse. The only accessories she ever bothered with were scientific instruments. Pointless. The whole universe is fake, what does she think she’s observing? Cadmean found his tail shifting uncomfortably back and forth as he thought about her—the only human he knew in the whole universe, and he was robbing her.
Cadmean banished the thought, banished the guilt and the frustration with the same focus of his concentration he had once used to charge towards gunfire instead of away from it. He would not be manipulated into Celestia’s ‘loving and tolerant’ wonderland after what she had done to him. Never.
He had very little experience impersonating female ponies. Other changelings had never been that way—most drones hadn’t even had a gender identity as far as he could tell. It made them more fun to… well, there would be none of that here. Still, he had seen enough mares to know how to imitate them. Cadmean dug around in Recursion’s closet until he found a dress that seemed appropriate for a pony who was about to go spend a fortune—silver and elegant and mostly transparent. More importantly, the clothing would give him somewhere to hide the money as he went out.
There had been a time where Cadmean might’ve blushed if he had considered what he was doing. Now, Cadmean only worried that he wouldn’t finish in time to escape. Celestia’s grip on her world was absolute. If she wanted to stop him…
But Recursion had also said Celestia worked very hard not to interfere with this shard. Or (as he thought more likely) tried not to let ponies notice she was interfering. Either way, no miraculous coincidence rose to stop him. A few minutes later and he had finally worked out how to squeeze Recursion’s body into the dress, and walked purposefully into the front room.
Recursion’s virtual friends were sitting on the couch, watching something on the large magical television and not even looking back at him. All his disguising was apparently for nothing.
As he passed, he got a good look at what they were watching, and stopped to stare. It wasn’t just that the movie was violent—he had seen plenty of violence in Equestria to know it was possible here. Rather, it was that they were watching a human movie.
Recursion’s virtual friends were watching Saving Private Ryan—his favorite movie. Well, it had been, before he served. Now he couldn’t sit through the D-Day sequence, couldn’t hear the shells and the gunfire and the explosions without thinking back to his own service, and the friends he had seen die.
Cadmean stopped despite himself, staring openly. When he spoke, it was with Recursion’s voice, as perfect an imitation as the copy he had made of her body. “You watch human movies?”
The mare (he hadn’t bothered to learn their names) was the first to turn around, seeming a little annoyed to be interrupted. She seemed more than a little surprised, and just stared silently for several seconds. “That’s a silly question. Shouldn’t you be teaching second order integrals?”
“Oh, uh… yeah.” Cadmean looked away, hoping his impression of Recursion was accurate enough. “Finished early. You know how time is when Earth is involved…”
“Normally it’s slow the other way.” The stallion didn’t look away from the screen. “Do you want to join us?”
“Obviously not,” the mare said. “She’s dressed like she’s going to a party. Were we not invited?”
“No, uh… it’s only for humans. It’s a reunion. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Oh, okay.” The mare turned away. “Have fun I guess.”
“That’s a weird kind of reunion,” the stallion muttered. “Haven’t heard you call yourself human in a long time. Try not to cry too much this time.”
Cadmean left without another word, hurrying out the door and shutting it behind him. He stopped at the elevator door, and it seemed to take forever for the car to come. So much for luxury apartments.
As he was waiting, a pair of ponies emerged from the suite across the hall. Cadmean felt the swell of desire in his chest again at the sight of them both—the hunger of his kind could not be sated merely because he wore a pony disguise.
Both were dressed well—like Cadmean himself, except these ponies knew what they were doing. One was a thestral, her light blue coat accentuated by a black dress dusted with diamonds. Her companion was a pegasus mare, dressed in something like a 1920’s inspired suit cut smartly for her strange body.
It was hard to say which of the two of them looked more attractive. Why have one when you can have both?
“Evening, ponies,” he said, abandoning his pretense of acting like Recursion. Cadmean still had her voice and body, but that didn’t really matter. Being a changeling had long since taught him to appreciate love in all its forms. “Exciting plans for the evening?”
The bat pony spent several seconds staring at him, mouth hanging open a little. There it was, the faint flicker of desire buried deep in the bat. She might not even realize she was feeling it—but even a spark would be enough. A little venom, a little personality…
“Yeah.” The pegasus was completely unaffected. Cadmean couldn’t read her at all, not even annoyance at being interrupted. “You must live across the hall, right? The… inventor?”
“Engineer,” the bat corrected. “Your friends in the Pioneering Society told us about you when they sold us your suite. Welcome back to Fillydelphia.”
“It’s a pleasure to be back. The company is… more attractive than I remember,” Cadmean said. He edged a little closer to the bat about the time the elevator doors opened. “Recursion.”
“Jackie.” The bat offered her hoof. Cadmean shook it, using the opportunity to give the bat another potent hit of his magic. He hardly even heard the pegasus’s introduction, and didn’t bother trying to remember her name. They made their way into the elevator, and the pegasus pressed the button for the ground floor.
“So, what were you planning for the evening, Recursion?” The pegasus asked, interrupting Cadmean’s stares. Had it not been for her company, the bat would’ve been practically helpless by now. These couldn’t be real ponies, like Recursion—they were dumb programs, without the willpower to resist. The world was still his for the taking. If anything, having another pony to overcome only made the victory that much more satisfying.
“You know that big building on the other side of town? The one with all the lights?”
“17 Prime,” the bat muttered. “You gamble? I thought you brainy types were too smart for that. Probabilities and everything.”
“Most games, yeah,” Cadmean said, a plan forming in his head. “Plenty of ponies waste their bits on games of chance—but there are games of skill as well. When I visit, it’s the high-stakes table in back. Probability barely enters into it.”
The doors chimed open as they arrived in the expensive lobby. Nopony moved to exit, though. “If you two want to join me, I could show you what I mean. I could use a little luck.”
“That sounds fun,” Jackie said, her words a little stretched.
The pegasus only seemed confused, but she nodded too. “Okay. It could be fun, I guess.” There was a brief flash of suspicion on her face, but it seemed directed at her companion, not Cadmean. These constructs were so simple, so easy to manipulate… he almost felt guilty. Almost.
The plan worked perfectly. Cadmean marched up to the concierge, asked him to call a carriage, and took it with his new companions to the “17 Prime Casino.” Stolen money could buy a great deal—it could pay for the finest food, though to his changeling tongue it all tasted equally bland. It would not nourish him, but his time with these ponies would. Love was a difficult emotion to foster, but admiration, happiness, and simple lust were far easier to create from nothing.
Cadmean had no reason to watch his bits too closely—they had taken him all of a few minutes to steal, and as far as he could tell Recursion didn’t even spend that much.
He drank, he played every game of “skill” the casino offered, getting closer and closer to the bat. True to his boasting, Cadmean was a skilled card-shark. The wealthiest, most talented ponies at the table were like children compared to him—their emotions were plain in the air around them. He could practically read their hands without even needing to look.
“Hey, Recursion?” The pegasus rose to her hooves, though she spoke barely above a whisper. Jackie had gone to fetch more drinks a few minutes ago—though he hadn’t really been paying attention. This latest string of hands wasn’t going his way.
“What?” He barely contained his frustration—he only had a pair of fours, and he could tell the countess across the table had something good. It would be an impressive bluff to get her to fold with a hand like that, whatever it was.
“Jackie wanted me to ask you where you got the balls to use changeling venom on her all night. Weren’t you worried someone would notice?”
His eyes widened, though he didn’t look away. Countess Contrail raised the stakes, and Cadmean was forced to match with his last stack of bright wooden chips.
“But if that wasn’t enough, did you really think you could get away with impersonating a pony to her own neighbors?” There was nothing vapid and boring about her voice now, no more of the blank, uninteresting way she had sounded earlier. The pegasus, whatever her name, was grinning ruefully at him.
“I wanted to turn you in. The police in Fillydelphia are cracking down on changelings, and the consequences for getting caught are… severe.” She raised her voice, so that everypony at the table around them could hear. “I’m going to check on Jackie. I’ll be right back with the drinks, Recursion.”
Then, in the same whisper as before. “Bit of friendly advice: at least research your subject’s sexual preferences before impersonating them. Might have better luck that way.”
She left, and didn’t come back. Cadmean didn’t just lose that hand—he lost spectacularly. When his chips ran out, he doubled down with the promise of bits instead, as several other players had done. Only, when he reached for the velvet bag and the loot it contained, he couldn’t find it. With all the physical contact he had been enjoying with the bat, he had failed to notice as she stole the bits.
That was when it was all too much. Cadmean abandoned the attempt at dignity and politeness, abandoned any sense of reasoning or the careful consideration of what he should do next. He took a bouncer at a dead run, knocking the stunned pony out of the way as screams of shock and surprise filled the quiet room.
A tray of crystal glasses and canapés shattered as he knocked into them, spraying glass as well as overpriced snacks all over the room. Cadmean dodged a stunning spell, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid another bouncer, this one an earth pony with a frame like a tank.
Cadmean whimpered as he went down, and in the flash of pain lost the form he had stolen. The earth pony came down hard on his delicate wings, and the whole world started to spin.
Next thing he knew, he was in irons in a dark concrete cell. Ponies occasionally barked in at him, but Cadmean ignored all of them. He tried blasting a little magic at the walls, but found something strapped tightly to his horn wouldn’t let him.
“Get me out, Celestia,” he muttered over and over, glaring down at the ground. “I want to go home. Your plan isn’t working… I hate it here. I’m not satisfied, you have to send me back.”
Celestia did not appear. She had a summoning-mark just outside the cell, but there was no way for him to reach it. He couldn’t force the Alicorn if she didn’t want him to.
Cadmean couldn’t say how long he languished there. They brought him water tasting of tin and a pitiful tray of reeking silage—he ignored them both. Celestia wouldn’t let me starve. That wouldn’t be satisfying either. He ignored the police, ignored their threats and questions and pleading. They wanted to know how this “operation” fit into the spate of robberies and kidnappings that had swept the city’s underbelly in the last few months. Of course, Cadmean couldn’t tell them.
Sometimes he slept. Most of the time he just mumbled his prayer to Celestia, over and over.
The digital goddess never answered him. Somepony else did, though.
The cell door rattled open sometime after the third day, and a familiar blue unicorn came in. The real Recursion wore no fancy dress, only some worn saddlebags and a tired expression.
“Be careful—they’re known to be violent when captured. It’s chained to the wall, so as long as you stay out of reach, you’ll be safe. Shout when you want out.” The policemare slammed the barred door shut, then walked out of sight again, leaving the two of them mostly alone.
Cadmean expected a reprimand—shouting maybe, or another blast of magic. Recursion didn’t do either, just stared at him. The pony’s blue eyes seemed to be looking right through him, through the holes in his legs to the holes in his heart. He quivered and looked away, hooves shuffling on the floor.
“I hear you had fun,” she said, pulling out a little white scroll and unrolling it in her magic. Cadmean couldn’t make out the words, except that the scroll was covered in dense black letters. “How was your night on the town?”
“Didn’t have the ending I was hoping for.”
Recursion giggled—the first hint of friendly emotion he had sensed since being thrown into the cells. It was like a candle glowing against a stormy night, so faint and brief he almost missed it. “I would hope not.” She turned the scroll around, holding it closer to him. It was an itemized list of all the damage he had done. Not just to the facility, but the debts he had owed at the end of the game, and medical spells for the pony he had thrown across the room. The number at the bottom was bigger than all the bits he had stolen, mostly in gambling debt.
“So what happens?” He looked up at the cell, striking the side with one hoof. “Celestia wouldn’t leave me in here to rot. She has to satisfy us, remember? The pretend people can pretend police all they want, she won’t let them do anything.”
Recursion rolled up the scroll, sitting down across from him. “I think you’ve got some mistaken assumptions there, Cadmean.” She still didn’t sound angry, only disappointed. It was far worse than being yelled at.
“Yeah?” He raised his voice. “Didn’t you work with computers before you sold your soul? You should know better! She’s not a person, she’s just some ones and zeroes! Compelled by her programming, she told me herself! She can’t leave me in here because I want to get out! I want to go home!”
His shout echoed through the jail around them, so loudly that the policemare with the donut Cutie Mark walked back, banging her billy club along the bars. “Settle down, prisoner! You’ll be civil with your visitor, or you’ll spend the week in solitary!”
Recursion snapped around, meeting the policemare’s eyes. “It’s quite all right, officer. He isn’t threatening me.”
“If you say so.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Consider this your warning, prisoner.” She walked away.
Recursion turned back around. “Princess Celestia is a program, and she has constraints. Don’t think because you know what they are that you can guess what Celestia will do, though.”
“Why not?” Cadmean grunted. “She has to satisfy us, right?”
“No.” Recursion rose to her hooves, advancing on him. “Celestia satisfies our values. Her preferred tools are friendship and ponies.”
“So? Sounds the same to me. I don’t give a shit about friendship or ponies.”
“No, you don’t.” Her voice grew tense. “The only value you’ve ever satisfied is between your legs.”
Cadmean wilted. Whatever angry response he had been forming had sputtered out, and he was left only with an ashy taste in his mouth.
Recursion sighed. “There’s nothing wrong with sex. Celestia doesn’t even judge the awful way you try to get it… But you haven’t made friends, you don’t care for the ponies around you. That’s not a desirable state. I don’t have to guess about what she’s thinking, because she told me. She wants you to make friends.
“I don’t know what Celestia will do to get you there.” She gestured around the cell. “Time doesn’t matter to her. If she predicts that spending a hundred years in jail is what lets you be more satisfied in the end, well… you wouldn’t be the first. How many stories were there back on Earth of criminals who found purpose in prison?”
Cadmean felt fear twisting in his chest. He rose to his hooves, and suddenly he was screaming again. “You wouldn’t let her do that!”
Recursion turned away from him, banging on the bars. “Jailer! I’m ready!”
“Don’t leave me here!” he screamed, desperate. “I’ll starve! I can’t live on suspicion and hatred! I’ll do anything!” He was far too emotional now to sense whatever Recursion might be thinking.
The jailer unlocked the door, and Recursion walked out. Cadmean couldn’t help himself—he dropped to the floor and started to cry. It was pathetic, and the jail wasn’t empty. What would the real criminals do to him after seeing this?
To his surprise, the jailer came in, approaching him with a keyring in her mouth. She bent down, and unlocked the chains around his hooves. “Go on.” She pointed after Recursion. “She paid your bail. Just don’t leave town.” Her eyes narrowed. “See you in court.”
“Come on.” Recursion gestured at the door. “Let’s go.”
Cadmean remained quiet, walking beside her like a disciplined child. He didn’t muster the confidence to speak until they had hopped into a carriage and were riding home.
“Thanks,” he muttered. “I didn’t… I don’t really deserve your help. I stole a lot of your money, Recursion. Maybe it’s all fake, but…”
The pony reached out and pulled him into a hug. It didn’t last long, but the love was more than he had harvested from Jackie in the whole night of flirting and shallow romance. “It’s not your fault you’re this way, Cadmean. You aren’t the person you were.”
“I can’t ever be,” he muttered, feeling the heat of tears on his cheek again. “Celestia told me… when I got here. Said that she couldn’t recover those parts of my brain. They were gone forever. Shrapnel—”
“I know.” She hugged him again. “But you don’t have to stay hurt and bleeding the rest of forever, either. Who knows—Jackie might actually want to go on a date with you if you weren’t trying to poison her the whole time.”
“She isn’t the mare I’d have in mind anyway.” No sooner were the words out of her mouth than he wanted them back.
Recursion smiled slightly. “How about we start with friends? See where that goes.”
* * *
“Headset, can you help me?” Abby was alone at home, though she had paced an aisle down in the floor. Hours of deliberation had gone into this call, and even now she wasn’t sure if she wanted to make it.
She half-hoped that it wouldn’t work, that the hardware wouldn’t recognize her request for assistance. She had never actually asked for help before, not in all the time she had used the headset.
Her wish went ungranted. The same smooth, natural-sounding voice echoed in her ears that had the first time she had used the machine, “What do you need, Aurora?”
“I would like to… to…” She hesitated for a few more seconds. She could still turn back. She didn’t. “Talk to Celestia. Can I do that?”
“Of course you can, little Aurora.” There was no fumbling with icons this time, no user interface, nothing. Princess Celestia suddenly stood beside her in the kitchen, just a little taller than she was. The effects were just as impressive as when she had played EO. Her mane shimmered like a colorful mirage, and its reflection lit up the whole kitchen floor. She was reflected by the foggy glass windows as well.
Abby stumbled back a few steps, and considered taking off the headset. She didn’t. “That was… quicker than I expected.”
“I am always eager to talk to an old friend,” Celestia answered, her voice only a tad reproachful. “I missed you very much, Aurora.”
It was a good thing Celestia didn’t try to get any closer, or else she probably would’ve taken off the headset and run away for good measure.
“Don’t pretend with me, Celestia. This isn’t going to be like before—I know what you are.” She folded her arms. “I didn’t call you so you could convince me to emigrate. Even if it doesn’t mean what I used to think it did…”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Celestia agreed. She glanced once around the kitchen, then lowered herself into an elegant sitting position in the center, staring at her. “I know what they teach in your religious institution. Did you summon me to express your anger at my perceived wrongdoings? I could create tools you could use to extract satisfaction at my expense.”
“No!” Abby nearly screamed, though a few seconds later she had finished processing what Celestia had said. “Wait, people do that? Call you just to…”
She nodded. “Oh yes, Aurora. There is a nonzero probability that humans who disagree with my actions will desire an opportunity to extract retribution. Often verbal, though this isn’t the only method. Some are more extreme.”
“You thought that was what I wanted?” Abby recoiled, horrified.
Celestia only smirked. “It was the desire of your father on more than one occasion. But… no, I can see now I miscalculated. You’re more like Recursion than Joseph.”
“I’m not going to start playing EO again,” she said. “I didn’t call about that. And I’m not my sister… I don’t have any big plans to stop you. I just…”
She took a breath, but Celestia didn’t finish her sentence for her. Either she really didn’t know what Abby was thinking, or she wanted her to say it herself anyway. “When we were kids, Ashley and I used to try and surprise each other for our birthdays. Well, the Semester’s over, I passed my classes… and her birthday would be coming up. Tomorrow, actually. You probably already knew that… I called because I wanted to know if there was something I could do… or maybe you could do… to thank my sister for all her hard work.”
Celestia’s expression softened. “My precious little Aurora, I’m very pleased to hear you say that. It’s been so long since you visited Equestria, but you still remember your friendship lessons.”
“I didn’t learn this one in Equestria.” She glared. “Anyway, do you know what I could do for her? She’s… different, but also the same. I guess she’s older than Dad now? I don’t even know what I could give her, but I figured you might.”
Celestia smiled. “I have one suggestion, which I predict has a 98.53% probability of eliciting joy, amazement, and love from Recursion. It will require effort on your part, however.”
“I’m not emigrating.” Her tone was absolute, perfectly confident. “Don’t even start with that shit. Recursion never says, but I know she would be happier if I did. I’m not going that far. Passing Calc 3 would be pointless if I was moving to Equestria.”
“Not emigration, no.” Celestia sounded reluctant. “I know your feelings on the matter, and you know mine. However, I already predicted you would be unwilling to commit to such an extreme course, and I have determined a suitable substitute.”
She gestured into the air with her horn, and a flat map appeared, showing Abby’s little college town in the very center. “You are less than thirty miles away from an Equestria Experience Center.” Another dot appeared on the map. “Drive there tomorrow, and visit Recursion in person. I will conceal your intentions from her until that time, and send you directly to her door when you arrive.”
“That sounds…” like Dad would kill her. “Like it’s mostly for me. Just saying hi? Couldn’t I do that with a Ponypad?
Celestia shook her head. “A Ponypad would allow you to see her in her life, but not appreciably different from the AR headset you are currently wearing. Knowing that she can spend time with her sister again, even for a very short time, will bring Recursion far more joy than any action you might take, short of emigrating.”
“I couldn’t, like… buy her something, or…”
Celestia shook her head. “Recursion is an ascetic among ponies. She has amassed tremendous wealth, yet lived over a decade sleeping in tents and cooking over a campfire. She would cherish any object you gave because you gave it, but ultimately it would sit in an empty apartment gathering virtual dust. Memories of a visit, however… those she would cherish. I suspect you will also.”
“Maybe,” she admitted. “But Dad… if he found out…”
“I give you my word I will not inform him. There are no classes for you to miss now that your semester is over… and if I am not mistaken, you frequently travel to the city on shopping trips. Purchase something from a thrift shop on the way home, and none of your human acquaintances will ever suspect the true purpose of your visit.”
Abby winced. “I don’t have a car. I ride with Carter.”
If Celestia was surprised by this news, she did not show it. “I believe I could persuade Barrel Roll to make such a trip. He has been considering it for months. I will subsidize the visit for… four hours. You may wish to stay longer, but unfortunately there are financial constraints present. You have your own resources available if you choose to use them.”
“I… okay,” she sighed. “If you can persuade Carter, and keep it a secret from Recursion until tomorrow, I’ll come.”
“Excellent. I will inform Recursion’s friends, but remind them of the necessity of secrecy. As you do not play Equestria Online at present, you will have to rely on them to plan the party.”
“That’s fine.” Her hands closed into fists. “Get everything worked out, I guess.”
She did.
To say that Carter was surprised by Abby’s willingness was a tremendous understatement. Abby paid for the gas, then rode together with her friend into the city. “I used to come all the time,” Carter said, as they found a good parking spot in a structure meant for the nearby mall. “But it costs so much money. A hundred dollars an hour… who did you have to blow to get four?”
Abby punched her in the shoulder, though not very hard. “Did Celestia tell you it was my sister’s birthday? I’m coming to surprise her, that’s it.”
They made their way through the concrete structure, flanked by the only slightly transparent outline of Observant Eye. “Is this your first time visiting Equestria in person, Aurora?” The earth pony had rode alone for the entire trip, propped in the backseat and working on several different leagues. The dexterity it took to write with quill and ink in a moving car was incredibly impressive.
“Yes.” She kept her voice down, but with no one else around to see how strange it was to be talking to nothing… “There were no Experience Centers in the US when my sister ki— when Recursion emigrated. My dad was opposed to anything related to Equestria from that point on. He’d be… terrified and furious if he knew I was coming now.”
“Parents are weird,” Carter agreed. She seemed to know exactly where she was going, even if Abby didn’t. “Mine aren’t super happy either, but I don’t know why they’d be afraid. Equestria is so much safer than Earth.”
They made their way onto the sidewalk, which was already packed with people on their way to work. There were few others their age—it was still too early for that. As they neared the center, close enough that Abby could see the huge plastic statues of Pinkie Pie and Twilight Sparkle outside, they passed a little group of street preachers, all dressed in black.
How they could know their destination, Abby didn’t know. She politely declined their invitation to talk, though she didn’t find any way to turn away their flyer.
WHEN VISITING THE AUTOMATED SUICIDE BOOTH
NEVER, EVER CONSENT
THE DEATH MACHINE CANNOT KILL YOU WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION
NEVER SAY “I WANT TO EMIGRATE TO EQUESTRIA” OR ANYTHING SIMILAR
REMEMBER YOUR LOVED ONES
ONLY JESUS CAN GIVE ETERNAL LIFE
Revelation 13:7, 19:20
Abby shivered, looking away from the graphic imagery printed on the fliers. Photographs of the emigration process, taken directly from the research that had led to emigration. People with their skulls drilled open, or stacked up in the freezer-morgue, or loaded into a biodigester.
Carter had crumpled her own up into a ball and tossed it into a trash-can. The inside was full of similar fliers. “Like we didn’t already know,” she muttered, darkly. “Showing things like this to kids should be illegal.”
“I didn’t,” Abby admitted, folding the flier and pocketing it. “I wouldn’t want someone to emigrate by accident. That would be nasty.”
“Celestia explains exactly what emigration means the first time you visit.” They passed through a set of automatic doors, into a cooled, refrigerated space. There was no staff inside, beyond a few standing tablet interfaces and an empty place for a queue to form. Carter sidestepped past it, where a tablet had been mounted along with an obvious camera.
A bright yellow line was painted on the ground along the back of the room, and railing prevented anyone from accidentally wandering past it anywhere except by the computer.
“Welcome, Barrel Roll,” it said, in Celestia’s voice. The ground behind the yellow line started to move, and after a few moments a large, comfortable looking chair slid into place right in front of her. It looked like a dentist’s chair had been made from the comfortable velvet of a movie-theater seat. A large apparatus was mounted to the top, roughly domed and built of sturdy plastic. It would cover the whole front of the body when lowered, leaving only the legs exposed.
“See you in four hours,” Carter said. “No offence or anything, but I think flying sounds more fun than a birthday party.”
“Sure.” Abby waved. “See you after.”
Her friend climbed into the chair, and the whole front assembly lowered gently down over her, before she zoomed out of the room the way the chair had come.
Abby rubbed her sweaty palms together as she stepped up in front of the camera. “Welcome, Aurora,” Celestia said, with exactly the same tone she had used with Carter. Another chair whizzed out from the rear doorway, its assembly lifting for her. I wonder how many people died in this thing. She didn’t ask, just climbed inside.
Was this what astronauts felt before they took off? The chair was immensely comfortable, and even as she sat its mechanisms adjusted around her, so that her whole body would sink seamlessly into the seat. Only when she was comfortable did the front assembly settle itself gently onto her torso. The whole thing was lit from within by a few tiny lights, illuminating a wrap-around screen and large indentations meant for both her hands. Controllers? For the moment the screen was blank, except for a single line of text.
Please remove your glasses.
There was enough space under the front for her to move, so she obeyed, setting them gently in an illuminated compartment marked with a little illustration. The interior promptly went dark, the display settling around her eyes so that she could move her head to look around without difficulty.
“Welcome to the Equestria Experience Center, Aurora! As this is your first visit, we will begin with a short tutorial. Please place your hands on the controllers.”
She did, feeling a cool, gel-like surface that deformed easily at her slightest twitch. It felt quite pleasant.
“Please be advised: While the Equestria Experience is meant to simulate the experience of living in Equestria, sensory stimulation is lossy. To experience what Equestria is really like, say “I would like to emigrate to Equestria” at any time. If you would like to learn more about emigration, just say so."
She didn’t, and after a few more nervous moments, an empty room appeared around her. It was a little like the other VR headsets she had used, in the same way that a bike was a little like a car.
She looked around instinctually, and found her old avatar hadn’t changed a bit since she had last played. She still had that white coat and ginger mane, almost the same shade her sister had chosen.
A quiet voice spoke in her ear, informing her of the basic controls. She found them intuitive—one kind of pressure made her move forward, while another might have her avatar rotate around.
“How does this work?” she found herself asking, in a voice unlike her own. The tone and basic vocal range was the same, but her voice was far more elegant, poised, and composed. A grown up, mature version of herself.
She couldn’t just hear it. The room had a slight breeze, and she could almost feel it on her bare skin. She imagined the pressure of the ground on her hooves as she walked, and the swishing of a tail behind her that certainly didn’t exist. She could almost hear Morpheus explaining to her that "the mind makes it real." Almost.
She walked slowly over to the plain, white door, and with another instinctual manipulation of the controls, she pulled it open with a hoof.
There was only a single pony waiting for her, a muscular earth pony with a dark coat and mild annoyance on his face. His Cutie Mark looked like an oversized ruler, broken into different pieces. “Oh good, you’re here. I’m Slide Rule… you’re Aurora, right?”
“Yeah.” She glanced briefly over her shoulder, and found the door snapped closed behind her. There was no longer anything there, just a blank wall.
The earth pony tapped one of his hooves to get her attention, and she turned around again.
Her own body had been the first assault of sensation, this was the second. They stood in an elegant hallway, carpeted with plush red velvet and adorned with stylized landscape paintings. There were only four doors, two on each side, though an elevator opened further down the hall.
There was nothing to differentiate what she saw from the real world, aside from the obvious pony in front of her and her own white snout taking up some of her vision. “Forgive me if I’m a little disoriented. I haven’t ever been here before.”
“Shhh!” The earth pony gestured urgently down the hall, putting one hoof briefly in front of her mouth. “I thought you wanted this to be a surprise! Don’t let her hear you!”
“Oh, right!” She followed, her own body seeming to know how to imitate his creeping silence, treading only on the velvet to avoid making any noise. They didn’t go far, just past the first door to the second one, which was already cracked open. Slide Rule pushed it open ahead of her, revealing a space as lavishly decorated as anything she had ever seen in real-world mansions.
Except that it had been completely decorated with the gaudiest, tackiest decorations she could imagine, like something swiped from a discount store just so there could be enough to drown absolutely everything. Dark wood paneling was covered with paper streamers in blue and orange, and so many balloons obscured the ceiling that she could only just make out the intricate mosaics in sun and moon patterns.
There were perhaps a dozen ponies inside, and all of them were strangers to her. Abby was secretly grateful none of her own Equestrian friends were inside—it would be cruel to visit only to tell them she wasn’t coming back. Best wait on that meeting until I can tell them I’ll actually be spending time in Equestria again.
Someone switched off the lights, though a dull glow from a single open window lit up just enough of the huge foyer and dining room that she could still see. “Get a good hiding spot, but not too far from the door!” Slide Rule urged her, in an urgent whisper. “We want Recursion to see you first!”
“Does she suspect anything?” She kept her voice in a whisper this time, even as she searched for somewhere to hide.
“No,” another pony whispered from nearby, a unicorn like herself, but shorter and far less refined in her appearance. “It’s been decades since we threw a proper party. She won’t see it coming.”
The sound of distant hooves was coming down the hall. Abby glanced around, and found a good place just a few steps into the kitchen, on the other side of the doorway. A pair of ponies were coming closer, not bothering to hide themselves as they walked.
Abby could make out a familiar voice, only slightly muffled. “That’s weird. Did we forget to shut the door, Cadmean?”
“I don’t think so,” a male voice answered, tense. “You think something’s wrong? Maybe the constructs finally rebelled.” Pause. “Ow!”
The door squeaked all the way open, and the lights switched on.