"So..." Soarin squinted at Flash Sentry as the two relaxed along the Midnight Oil's port side. "...it is a dreamscape?"
"Huh? Dreamscape?"
"One that can be visited and manipulated by an alicorn," Soarin clarified, his exposed mane and raised goggles glinting in the sunlight. "Such as Princess Luna—"
"No no no no no no..." Flash vigorously shook his head. "Dude. No magical. My world—remember?" He arched an eyebrow, smirking. "It's all technological."
"Technological."
"That's right."
"And yet..." Soarin blinked. "...this somehow allows everypony on the planet to communicate with one another and share information at the same time?"
"First off." Flash pointed with his hoof, smiling. "It's 'everybody,' not everypony."
Soarin blushed slightly. "My bad."
"It's okay bro. And second." Flash gestured. "It's not all that crazy for mass communication to be a real thing!"
"Here in Equestria, it takes us several days to deliver a letter across country—and that's with our fastest flier. But..." Soarin rubbed his aching head. "Back in your world... this 'Internet' of yours can do it instantaneously?"
"Yeah, pretty much!"
"How does this 'Internet' work, exactly?"
"Oh... it involves... uhhhh... Lan Lines and Cell Towers and Satellites and crap."
"You've... already lost me."
"I... I can't explain all of it, dude..."
"Why can't you?"
Flash blinked. "Uhhhh..."
Soarin squinted. "You enjoy instantly accessible global information and yet you still can't explain the mechanics of it?"
"It just... works! Y'know! Scientists and cable guys make it happen! Why, I just—" Flash instinctively fumbled around his upper leg for a pocket that didn't exist—containing a phone that also didn't exist. His pupils shrank, and he blushed... giggling into the whipping winds. "Oh wow."
Soarin chuckled helplessly. "What's the matter?"
Flash smiled embarrassingly. "In pondering how the Internet works, I just had a stupid instinctual thought: 'Why not just look it up on Google?' Heheheheh..." He exhaled through a dumb grin. "Isn't that sad? Not being able to know what you know?"
"Heheheh..." Soarin smoothed his bangs back. "This 'Internet' must be a fine luxury indeed if you can't even be bothered to remember how it works."
"Oh, the Internet has helped me forget a lot of things," Flash said. He fidgeted a bit where he sat. "...such as the innocent bygone days before I understood what the word 'prolasped' means..."
"What does 'prolapsed' mean?"
"Uhhhh—H-HEY!" Flash stood up tall, wings coiling and uncoiling. "Is that Captain Typhoon?"
"Huh? What? I don't hear—"
To Flash's relief, the Captain of the Airship began shouting across the deck: "The Crystal Spires have been sighted! All hooves! Slow our descent! Prepare for mooring!"
"Whoops!" Soarin slid his goggles down and took wing. "I'd better take my post before Spitfire bites my tail off."
"Or worse," Flash muttered.
Swoooosh! As Soarin flew into the dispersing clouds, Flash craned his neck to look. True to Typhoon's order, the ship was lowering—slowing with each passing minute. The teenager spotted a break in the clouds, and beyond that a blue-green valley of tundra. In the center of this land, stretching outward in a massive circle, was a quaint urban sprawl pockmarked with gardens and geometrically-pleasing streets. It was like a warm Shangri-La existing in a pocket of a sub-arctic biome, and Flash could feel a strange flux in temperature as the airship cruised towards its destination.
The details of the large city came into clearer focus. Buildings of polished metal flickered in the midday Sun. Only—they weren't metal, but something somehow shinier... more reflective. In the very center of this place was a massive needle-sharp tower, thick as a castle at its base, but ultimately forking off into an elaborate narrow spire at the top. The summit of the "obelisk" pulsed with magical resonance, and Flash nearly drooled at the sight of a delightfully shimmering aura fanning colorfully outward across the sky. This light show emanated from the fixed point of the tower, and it danced with every hue of the spectrum. As the Midnight Oil approached a tall wooden edifice towards the southwest—a docking tower evidently built by foreigners to this land—Flash could spot tiny bodies wandering through the cocentric streets of the sprawl... and each equine figure was even shinier and flashier than the last.
"Mesmerizing the first time you see it, yes?" Fancy Pants suddenly said.
Flash Jumped in place. If he had spread his wings, the wind might have tossed his body overboard.
"Whoah there, Brad, my boy!" Fancy Pants chuckled, resting a hoof on Flash's shoulder to anchor him to the deck. "A thousand pardons! I did not mean to startle you!"
"This..." Flash gulped. "This is it?"
"Affirmative, young chap." Fancy nodded, smiling as he gazed at the sprawl below. "The Crystal Empire in all its splendid glory."
"It..." Flash's eyes narrowed. "...doesn't really evoke 'Empire' in my head."
"Hah! Yes... well..." Fancy Pants polished his monocle. "Antiquity carries weight to a name, no matter how the culture abides in the present. Why—once upon a time—the poor ponies of this land were ruled mercilessly by a warlock tyrant named Sombra."
"Oh yeah?"
"He enslaved the crystal ponies and forced them to work in deep quarries, seeking crystalline jewels—much like the ones we've just peacefully acquired from the diamond dogs. When the Royal Sisters attempted to intervene on the citizens' behalf, Sombra fought back with all of his dark magics. The Monarchs had no choice but to seal him away with a spell. Sombra's spirit fled from his body, and the resulting enchantment locked the entire land into a veritable limbo for dozens of generations."
"Wow." Flash gulped. "That sucks."
"Yes. Erm... quite." Fancy Pants' calm eyes reflected the glowing tower. "Anyways, it was only a few years ago that the entire kingdom resurfaced. The dark enchantment had worn off, and the once-enslaved citizens woke from eons of sleep. Unfortunately, this also meant the return of Sombra himself. But—thankfully—the stewards Shining Armor and Princess Cadance exorcised his dark spirit with the help of the Princess of Friendship."
Flash jolted slightly. "Princess... of Friendship, huh?"
"That's right."
"She's... uh... she's been here?"
"Indeed she has." Fancy Pants nodded. "In fact, she makes several regular visits with her companions." He looked at her. "Why?"
Flash sighed with a shudder. He looked off the ship's port side railing. "How long until we cast off again?"
Fancy Pants laughed. "Oh Brad, you are quite a curious fellow!" He adjusted his monocle. "Haven't you heard? The Midnight Oil is going to be stationed here quite a while. In fact, Typhoon—at my request—has ordered his crew an extended terrestrial leave!"
"I see..."
"Meanwhile, it's the job of the rest of us to see to the arrangement of festivities here!" Fancy Pants declared. "Dignitaries and respresentatives are receiving their invites by winged messengers just as we speak! In a matter of days, they'll arrive here en masse to celebrate the Crystal Ponies joining the Equestrian Union!" He suddenly sighed with a touch of ennui. "And... that is when I feel that we will need the help of a lucky soul."
"Lucky... soul... help..." Flash blinked stupidly into the forthcoming beat of silence. When he realized Fancy was staring at him, he threw the aristocratic stallion a double-take. "Wait, you m-mean me?!"
"I don't see why not."
"But, dude—M-Mister Pants..." Flash smiled sheepishly. "Haven't I done enough?"
Fancy Pants grinned wide. "Why stop now?!"
"Wh-what I mean is... uhm..." Flash cleared his throat. "With all due respect, why ask me for help? I'm no party organizer. Besides, don't you have Filthy and Prince Blueblood to help you with—"
"Alas..." Fancy Pants leaned back with a stifled sigh. "...they have resorted to biting at each other's jugulars. Ironic—now that the deal with the Hawkeye Pack and the rest of the representatives of High Paw has been secured—they are given greater lease to argue with one another." He smiled at the teenager. "Never underestimate the paralyzing power of triumph, Brad. It can very well be your worst enemy."
"What's the problem, exactly?"
"Blueblood wishes to bring Canterlot's finest to oversee the music and catering at the Crystal Empire, which Filthy and I believe is overkill. To counter that, Filthy would like to reel in ponies from all across Equestria--which both the Prince and I agree is far too ambitious with the limited time we have available."
"Don't you have an idea?"
"Indeed I do. Several, as a matter of fact. However..." Fancy Pants stood tall with a humble smile. "If the last twenty-four-hours have taught me something, it's that my ideas aren't always ideal... and I could certainly use a healthy helping of humility."
"So..." Flash's eyes narrowed. "...you're coming to me."
"You're the one pony on this venture who's displayed luck, charisma, and initiative." Fancy Pants smiled proudly. "It certainly wouldn't hurt to consult such a wellspring of good fortune."
"I..." Flash rubbed his neck, adjusting Vinyl's headphones. He looked listlessly across the deck as the horizon raised higher and higher beyond the railing. "I don't know. I-I gotta think about it."
"Bully!" Fancy slapped Flash's shoulder again. "In the meantime..." He steered the teenager towards the bow as the vessel approached the mooring tower. "...what say we introduce you to this fine, fine city?!"
"Hrmmm..." Flash smiled stupidly. "All I need is a pair of meme photos of myself: Crystal Empire—Before and After. Not Even Once."
"... ... ...I beg your pardon?"
"You want some advice, Mr. Pants?"
"By all means."
"Ignore half the things I say."
"Hah hah! Way ahead of you, Brad, my boy...!"