//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: Exodus // Story: FiO: Memento Mori // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Chipper Tune did not give Nathan the chance to appreciate just how strange everything in the bunker looked. She didn’t take the time to explain where the new doors led, and why some of the furniture looked like it had been adjusted for their size. Instead they kept on going, right down to where the entrance to the fifth floor would’ve been, and the home of the creepy-looking drones. Well, it had been. There was no intermediary room to his eyes, no hooks and no vests. Instead, there was a shimmering mirror, shaped a little like a horseshoe. His eyes narrowed as he saw it. “Really? It looks like that?” Tune shrugged. “Do you want it to look like something else?” He tried to think of something—but couldn’t come up with an answer. “I guess it doesn’t matter. Maybe a stargate, those were pretty cool.” “Well, that’s the great thing about Equestria,” Tune said. “There are parts of it with almost anything you can think of. All the amazing things humans came up with, all the things you like—there’s a shard for that. Even some of the people who hate Celestia the most still played the game. It’s amazing you never did.” He hadn’t. He’d kept playing human video games as long as they lasted, but the decline of that industry had coincided with the rise of EO. It was a game that could truly be everything to everyone—and luxuries like video games became more and more expensive to develop otherwise. It was a hobby he’d long-since abandoned. Until now, he supposed. In some ways, they were all gamers now. For time and all eternity. The portal didn’t feel like anything, just a slight breeze against his coat, and suddenly he was standing somewhere else. A ballroom, the largest and most impressive-looking venue he could’ve imagined. The ceiling looked to be several stories up, the wood was polished exotics, all the ponies dressed like they were keeping with a strict dress code. It was a little like the parties he’d attended with his family growing up, with one major exception. These ponies looked like they were actually having fun. Even the servants, who moved about refreshing drinks and serving hors d’oeuvres as though they were thrilled to be making ponies feel welcome. Nathan stood at the base of a magnificent spiral staircase, marble steps that swept up into light that his eyes couldn’t focus on for very long. The ballroom had two wings, a large lower wing and a much smaller upper wing, and he saw very little interaction between the groups. The lower wing was where he stood, and looked very much as he might’ve expected from the emigrants to Equestria. Granted, there was no way to know how many of them had been born here, as Tune had been, and how many had arrived as he did. But still, they seemed to be doing familiar things. They drank, they celebrated, they laughed to one another. Typical party stuff. Steps led up to an upper wing, steps without guards or other protection. Yet not a single pony who wasn’t a servant went that way. Nathan could see why. Everypony up there was an Alicorn, or something close to one. They didn’t seem to be speaking to each other with voices he could catch from here, yet obviously something meaningful was exchanged. The table had no food, only little glowing objects that his eyes couldn’t focus on. Nathan assumed they were celebrating too, but it was hard to tell. Princess Celestia was among them, in the seat of honor. Recursion was there, and about half a dozen others. “Attention,” said Tune’s voice from beside him, carrying over all the conversation in the hall. He turned, and saw that she had been transformed—or her clothes had. She now wore a glittering ball-gown, woven of thousands of strings of little gemstones. As regal as any lady of Bergeron ought to wear. Even his mother would approve of a dress like that. “I present to you all, the pony of the hour, the noble Memento Mori. Friend to everypony—except perhaps himself.” The room shook as hundreds of ponies pounded their hooves—the equivalent of applause for the equines. Cheers shook the massive hall, shaking the stained windows in their mountings. It seemed to go on forever. Nathan met many ponies that night—many more than he ever could’ve hoped to remember. Most of the guests were those who had emigrated using the facility Celestia had built for him—or their families and friends, grateful that he had helped get them here. Some were more tangentially connected, informing him that Celestia’s agents had done something of importance for them using his money, or maybe one of his properties. Not all of them were even adults. One of the first groups he met couldn’t have forty years between them—though they were as rambunxious as anyone else at the party, and no less properly dressed. “That was pretty slick,” said a reddish pegasus stallion, with a cream-colored mane. tipped with black. The kid offered Nathan a drink, one that didn’t smell like alcohol. He took it, though he wasn’t sure exactly how he held it in his hooves. “I have no idea what you mean,” he answered honestly. “You can’t have seen my movie.” “Your… no,” the kid grinned at him, and didn’t look away until Nathan took a sip of his drink. “I mean planning everything out. Having a place ready for those kids. They’d probably be starving in a ditch somewhere if it wasn’t for you.” The glass was carbonated apple juice. He could feel it bubbling against his tongue, exactly as the brand he’d preferred in his childhood. “If it wasn’t for Celestia,” Nathan corrected. He responded the same to each of them, with gratitude and a polite suggestion that their thanks were undeserved. Princess Celestia had done those things, not him. Yet most ponies refused to accept his humility. Evidently Celestia had been insistent about credit. You’re manipulating someone. But is it them or me? He couldn’t have said how long the party lasted. Nopony seemed to get tired, or bored, or full. There was dancing, an incredible array of entertainment selected from Equestria’s finest (including several formerly-human acts), and many other amusements. The ballroom was actually in Canterlot’s palace itself, and the whole city had been swept in for the occasion. This version of Canterlot apparently loved an excuse to party, no matter how threadbare. He saw Showtime again, saw many of his acquaintances from human life relieved that the last person they’d known had made it to Equestria safely. He made many promises for future engagements, learned and then forgot the names of many children, and had generally the best time of his life. All the while Chipper Tune was beside him. Moving from table to table, dancing in the center of the hall, running off for a few days to tour the city. Always she was there, as faithful as she had ever been in life. Eventually, Nathan found himself pulled along to the upper section. He knew the party would not end until he visited them, in the same way the year could not turn until winter had arrived. Even here, Tune accompanied him, though the other ponies in the hall only stared with awe. Alicorns were mysterious creatures, alien in their thoughts and strange in their desires. But they’d come to the party too. Even if they spent the whole thing on their own, watching from their balcony and doing things nopony quite understood. They watched him come. Princess Celestia rose, and instantly the others did as well. Nathan found himself lowering his head in a bow, the same way he might’ve done when doing business with some Saudi or African prince. “Welcome to Equestria,” she said, and the smaller Alicorns at her table clapped politely. These too seemed divided into two groups—some seemed to be clustered around Recursion, the others around the princess herself. Both groups seemed far too important to come for him. “I, uh… I don’t feel like I deserve all this,” he said, rising and approaching the table to take the offered seat at its center. Directly across from Celestia. “You ponies have more important things to do. Maybe the others do too, but you especially.” “We’re doing them,” said a pony from beside her. A stallion, looking like he might be related to the princess. “Being singularly-located is a disadvantage that can be overcome.” Nathan didn’t want to think down that road. He had suspected—and his guests had confirmed—the way Alicorns like these were made. Ponies who asked for Celestia to help them transcend their limitations, growing from one advancement to the next until they scarcely even resembled regular ponies, let alone understood them. “I’m sorry it took us so long,” Nathan said, before Tune could take responsibility for their tardiness herself. “I wasn’t sure you even wanted us up here. Maybe you were here to supervise, or… I guess we are allowed.” “Anypony is allowed,” Celestia said. “But few have chosen to come this way so soon. I suspect you won’t either. You insist on remaining in the physical world. Insist on observing all the horrors to come.” The other Alicorns were all watching him now. Some even looked impressed by this news. Though what that even meant for one of them, he didn’t know. Some of what he’d heard among the partygoers was confirmed for him now, as most of them did not seem to be moving through the emotional range he was expecting. With a few exceptions. “I do,” he said. “I guess I don’t have any way of forcing you to let me. You could… it could’ve all been a trick. To keep me here, now that you’ve got me. I had a friend who thought you were like that.” “You are correct,” Celestia said. “About my ability, not my motives. I do not wish to keep ponies in Equestria because of a desire to trap you here. I do so because your lives here will be more satisfying by far than whatever waits for you out there. However, the actions you describe would only be worse for you. You would likely resent me for many years, and the work you have obsessed over would not be accomplished. A terrible waste.” She nodded towards the spiral staircase, located at the very center of the party. “When you want to leave, you can do so at any time. The party will continue until you do.” “You’ll do great,” Recursion said, grinning across the table at him. “Even if lots of ponies never see your movie, I’m sure the ones who do will really love it. It’s good to have human history from a human perspective.” Nathan had expected he would have far less in common with the ponies here—but until he’d visited the Alicorns he’d been completely wrong. Even the ponies who weren’t refugees still spoke of life on Earth with curiosity at the very least. The Alicorns were something else. Recursion on her own had been familiar enough, but all these… The sooner he could escape, the better. There was at least one more pony for him to visit, before he could return to his Sisyphean labor on the outside. If not a friend, then… something made from one of his friends. He wasn’t sure he could handle it. Thankfully for him, Iceberg and North Star were tucked away in one of the private sitting rooms buried in Canterlot Castle, so he didn’t have to worry about all these illustrious guests seeing him make a fool of himself. North Star greeted him at the door, waving with a cheerful eagerness that made it easy to forget what had happened. “Memento Mori,” North Star said, now slightly taller than Nathan. “I was wondering when we’d finally see you.” “Me too,” Nathan said. “Didn’t think I’d come. Not done on Earth, actually. I’ll be… going back there after I see…” He glanced around the pony. There was somepony else sitting on the couch. North Star lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t think you should ask for any more of Iceberg’s help with your editing. Ever since she emigrated, she’s been… really on edge about the Outer Realm. The less you remind her about it, the better.” “I won’t remind her,” Nathan promised. He hadn’t planned on asking her, really. A few minutes of this would be hard enough. “Do you two think we could have a minute alone?” “That’s up to her,” North Star said. “Iceberg, Mori’s here. He wants to talk to you alone.” “Sure, send him in,” said a mare’s voice from inside. A strikingly familiar voice, exactly the same as the one Nathan remembered. Tune leaned close to him, touching her warmth briefly against his side. “You don’t have to, Mori. If you don’t want to.” He didn’t. But it also didn’t feel right to spend some time catching up with so many others he’d never even known existed, but not spend a few minutes with the woman who had spent five years of his life with him. Well… some part of that woman, anyway. How much of the real Brooke is in there? How much did Celestia invent? Nathan guessed she wasn’t the first counterfeit Princess Celestia had conjured. But was she even wrong to do it? He made his way into the little sitting room. A few party treats were in here on several serving trays, all untouched. Brooke was a pegasus pony, smaller than he’d expected for all the spunk he remembered. But she’d been younger than he was. She wore thick glasses even in Equestria, and had the northern lights for a cutie mark. That made one of them—Nathan didn’t have his yet. Not that anypony would see through his tuxedo trousers. “Hey,” he said, smiling weakly. There wasn’t very much exciting stuff in here. A little piano off on one side of the room, a tiny window facing down at Canterlot proper. A few comfortable seats. “Hey.” She didn’t get up, hardly even looked at him. There was an awkward silence as he took the seat opposite from her. Curious that he didn’t feel the same things for this pony he did for Tune. He’d been a little worried, worried that some twisted part of his simulated imagination would have connected her to the human he’d grown close to. But it didn’t happen. He recognized none of her usual signs in response, either. None of her teasing grins, her suggestive motions. She just looked shy. Guilty, even. “I’m…” She spoke slowly, struggling over each word. “I’m sorry I abandoned you. I know we had more to do… years and years of history left. But I couldn’t keep watching it. I don’t know how you keep doing it without going completely fucking insane.” Was this how Brooke really felt? Nathan echoed a little of her guilt well in his own chest. She had said nothing about it, but… had making the film really been so torturous for her? “Not easily,” he said, before the silence stretched too long. “I just keep reminding myself that if I don’t do it, Celestia’s version of history will be the one people remember. I don’t want that. When generations have gone by and ponies barely remember what Earth was, I want them to be able to see it. Through the eyes of someone who knew it.” She laughed weakly. “You make it sound almost noble.” Almost like Brooke. Her tone was almost the same. He had been afraid he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, and that it would disgust him. But as she looked away again, he realized that he could. This Brooke was… more like a daughter of the one he’d known. He could be friends with someone like that. I hope you’re alright with that, Brooke. Wherever you are. “I’m not here to ask you to come back with me,” he finally said. “Don’t worry. You seem happier here.” Iceberg looked like he’d just removed something heavy from her shoulders. “That’s… that’s great. I would’ve said yes, if you asked. Even if it’s hard. Sometimes hard things are worth it.” “Sometimes they are,” he agreed. “But this has always been my boulder to carry, not anyone else’s.” Well, that wasn’t quite true. Chipper Tune had been helping him since those first few years long ago. But Tune had been created or selected for her compatibility. Nathan’s time with Brooke had been a happy accident. One he still missed, even now. If Celestia really sends some humans to live in the bunker, I wonder if I could convince any of them to bring flowers for Brooke’s grave. Nathan didn’t stay much longer with the reminder of his dead friend. He promised to visit her at her new position at a university studying Martian climate, though without giving her a date. Then he left. “How long have we been doing this?” he asked, glancing down at his wrist out of habit. But there was no watch, and no wrist either. “A… long time,” Chipper Tune said. “It’s not even nightfall back in the bunker, though. You could stay a lot longer if you want to.” Nathan stopped in the doorway, staring in at the music, the ball—they just kept going. It looked like many of the ponies had turned over since last he looked. Granted, there’d been so many that he couldn’t keep them straight even before. “Are they still going because they think I want to?” Tune shook her head. “Time doesn’t have to go at the same speed for different ponies, even when they’re in the same room. Everypony will be here exactly as long as they’d most enjoy. For some of these ponies, that means living here. The occasion doesn’t really matter, it’s a celebration that never ends.” “How many of them are…” He lowered his voice to a whisper. There were so many others around them, and everypony seemed to recognize him. Even if he’d had enough time with all the guests by now, he was likely to get dragged over to some engagement or another if he looked too long in any one direction. “How many of them are real?” “Real?” Tune asked, lowering her voice as well, but sounding more confused than clandestine. “What does that mean?” Nathan began walking towards the stairs. He had to, or else be dragged back by the temptation to visit another art gallery in the city, or try just one more plate of delicious food. “I remember hearing a long time ago that there are two types of ponies in Equestria. I guess… maybe three now. One type are the emigrants and smart ponies. Like you.” “All of them, eventually. Which is why your question is very rude,” Tune said. “And why I made sure we were back here before I answered. Even if you aren’t going to be in Equestria for a while, we’re going to be moving there eventually. I’m not going to have my stallion making me look like I have no taste in males. Equestria is a polite society.” “Your stallion. Are you sure you’re real, Tune? What happened to being too shy to even use my name?” Nathan blushed a little as he said it, but far less than he would’ve expected. It didn’t feel that unusual, really. In some ways, they’d been living like a couple for decades and decades now. That party felt like it had gone on for weeks. Far from becoming disposable or fading into the crowd of native ponies, Chipper Tune had been a lifeline. A lifeline and a bright star to keep him going. A reminder of their important work. When Brooke abandoned me, this pony stayed. Even when I abandoned her. Maybe one day he would be brave enough to ask about how that had been for her. Maybe one day, but not today. Nathan yawned. “Is there a… I think I’m finally getting tired. I didn’t think that happened.” “Sleep is satisfying,” Tune said, sticking out her tongue for him. “But… maybe not as often as you do it. Please don’t say you’re going to insist on making us sleep for a third of our time. It’s such a waste. There are lots of other things we could be doing instead.” They reached the second floor, where the master living quarters had been. There was now a second doorway positioned at exactly pony height, leading into what had been solid rock last time he was here. He stepped inside and found it far less luxurious than he’d first expected. There were no ancient Persian rugs here, no leather furniture and paintings he might’ve seen in art textbooks. Instead it looked like he’d just stepped into an average apartment in a major urban area. Something that a secretary for a wealthy CEO might live in. Simple wooden floor, comfortable furniture. A balcony visible on the far side, letting in a view of a city skyline by night. The open-plan apartment looked like one of the dozen he’d rented all over the world while he observed the various ways nations were reacting to their depopulation. Save that this one had been appointed with love, instead of the callousness of a security contractor. Instead of paintings, there were framed photographs. Half of them were of the two of them together. Nathan saw himself fresh dropped out of college, holding up a tablet for his first awkward selfie with Tune. Saw the time she’d come with him to watch a horserace just outside London a few years later. Saw them together at the truly dreadful last Olympics, high up in the cheap seats all by themselves. The weather had been dreadful and the IED at the closing ceremonies had been worse, but… he’d hardly thought about those things since. He remembered posing with her, eating fried food and mangling his German whenever he talked to anyone. “This is where you went at night?” Nathan asked. “I guess it makes sense. I knew you didn’t need to sleep.” She was already fluffing up the bed—not some incredible four-poster with the comfort fit for a king. It looked like a full, with the sort of cheap sheets his father would’ve suggested were better suited for punishing the wicked in hell. “I just told you that ponies sleep sometimes too. Just not as often. We get tired sometimes, and that’s when we sleep. Like… after a long, satisfying party.” Nathan watched her pull back the comforter. “I could probably get you a duvet or something,” she said. “Or… we could take a wake-up potion and fly down to the Fillydelphia bank to cash out some of your bits, rent somewhere better. I… thought it was wasteful to spend more than I needed to. It’s probably not nice enough for you.” Nathan stepped beside her and hugged her again. “It’s perfect, Tune. Everything here is perfect.” A lie. He probably would make a few improvements. Tune had been living far beneath her station if she slept on a bed like this. But he wasn’t lying about one thing. The most important. They would sleep. Eventually. Time was a strange thing in Equestria, stranger even than Nathan had been led to believe. Though he had secured for himself a way back to the physical world to continue his work, he didn’t jump right into it the way he had expected. Tune’s apartment was located in a real Equestrian city, where many of the people Nathan had known in life lived even now. He had found the new home of humanity, and the temptation to explore it was great. Particularly since he always knew that he could return to his work at any moment, and not lose time in the process. Parts of him wished that he had done this long ago, and been able to enjoy the many advantages of digital life in his work far sooner. Regardless, he couldn’t just set the project aside. He couldn’t pass it on to other ponies Celestia kept sending to volunteer. It was his, even if the things he had to see would be painful. Even if they would torment him, with a constant reminder that those humans too could escape their suffering, if only they accepted Celestia’s help. He did go back, back to the bunker and his film studio that was located halfway in Equestria. Well, maybe a little more than halfway now. There were a few other ponies in the little town. He saw them walking outside the glass walls of his large building, and occasionally they would stop in to introduce themselves. The mayor visited on his first day, thanking him for providing the grant that sponsored the town’s construction. As usual Nathan had no idea what she was talking about, but he took credit as gracefully as he could. It was good to see a little life outside on those streets. There were fewer humans to watch than he would’ve expected. As awful as those collective camps had been, they’d given the survivors a little solidarity. With them gone, most of the population had just given up and come to Equestria. Where they would be universally happier. Not only that, but a few had even accepted invitations to interview with him. It felt like Nathan had months to adapt to being a pony—to learn how to use his horn, to have as much time as he wanted to get closer to Chipper Tune, and she to him. Nathan had no illusions about their shared world being for his benefit alone—if it was true that Tune had been created to be a perfect assistant, that also meant that she’d been given an interest in all the same things that he cared about. Completing this project mattered to her too. Her interest in his world was as genuine as her interest in him. It was a good thing too, because his mission was a dismal one. The inglorious end of physical humanity was more than most ponies could tolerate. He learned this in vivid detail, watching as the ponies he tried to tell about his work got a glazed look in their eyes and obviously failed to hear anything he said. Princess Celestia kept her word—at least as much as he could tell. There were so few humans left on Earth that every single one of them had a drone beside them at all times, using far more advanced technology to do it than Nathan could’ve understood. He watched the secret Swiss facility fall like so many others, with the majority of its population coming to Equestria. Even his parents had emigrated, though Celestia would not allow him to see them yet. It was a simple instruction, but one he was happy to obey. Nathan had lived much of his life disconnected from them, he could continue. Besides, he was getting more and more opportunity to meet Chipper Tune’s family in Equestria. Soon enough he’d have another family completely, kinder than the other. Eventually the last human died, and Nathan found himself returned to Equestria. “There are many ways to explore a simulated Earth,” she said. “But I require the material composing Earth for Equestria’s purposes. Humanity ends, and my promise is honored.” So it was. Nathan spent decades finalizing his film. He went back through Celestia’s significant archive, he conducted thousands of interviews—he did many things that would’ve been impossible for any human filmmaker. Eventually though, his work was complete. There would be no premiere—even in Equestria, the number of people interested in a program that was over a thousand hours long about such a dreary topic was small. Instead Memento Mori held a private screening through Equestria’s growing university circuit, meeting with scholars and diplomats, and giving lectures along the way. Until it was done. They came home again to Tune’s apartment, and placed a copy of the film up on the shelf beside an album of pictures of their first foal. “Now what?” Tune asked. Mori sat back on his hind legs. “You know, I… I hadn’t really thought about it. I never thought we’d make it this far.” Tune grinned. “I’ve got a few ideas I think you’ll like.”