//------------------------------// // 28. Treacherous Sweets // Story: Inevitabilities // by Sharp Quill //------------------------------// It was a gorgeous day. There were barely any clouds in the sky, and the weather ponies would keep it that way until late that night. It was warm, but not too warm. A gently breeze wafted appetizing scents from outdoor markets. Sounds of ponies going about their business abounded. It was the perfect antidote to hyperspace—or Tartarus. Meg strolled down the street, trying not to feel silly—hard to do when a miniature draconequus was riding on top of her head. Fortunately, nopony was paying that any attention. Instead, all eyes were on Smooze, oozing—or whatever he did to move about—alongside her. It was a sign of how far the residents of Ponyville had come since the Zecora incident that they didn’t run away in terror. A tinny voice assaulted her ears. “And technically I did attend the last session.” “Could’ve fooled me,” Meg muttered. Discord, naturally, had no trouble hearing her from where he sat inches above her muzzle. “Oh, I wished I could be seen and heard, just to spite you, but observing was all I could do.” Not that it mattered to Meg. She got it. That was the only way he could have been there without causing a paradox. Still, for the sake of science… “And what, exactly, stopped you from being seen or heard?” His weight suddenly shifted. Maybe he slumped? She didn’t have eyes on the top of her head. “I’d rather not talk about it. Let’s just say there were… unexpected circumstances.” Meg couldn’t help smirking. “I thought you lived for chaos.” She got an unintelligible grumble in reply. It still didn’t matter. It only confirmed that not even Discord could alter the immutable flow of time. It only made her feel a little better about the whole doll thing, but a little was still better than nothing. They continued their leisurely pace in silence. At least I’m doing something productive. She could thank Discord for that, oddly enough. It would’ve been so easy to check out for a few days, while she could come to terms with what had happened. But he had insisted on this trial run of the voice synthesizer—and he wasn’t the only one who wanted it working sooner rather than later. The Smooze stopped. It took a second for Meg to realize why: he was facing Bon Bon’s candy shop. “You want to go inside?” she asked. That suited her just fine. Perhaps she’d bump into Lyra. They were still waiting for her promised explanation of that changeling. Her bluetooth earpiece came to life. “I. Want. Eat. That.” “Looks like he wants to try Bon Bon’s candies,” she passed on to Discord. “We can do that.” She had an allocation of bits for situations just like this. The door was open. Meg walked in first, the better to assure anypony already inside that there wasn’t anything to worry about. Besides Bon Bon, the only pony there was Cheerilee. “Hi, everypony,” Meg said. “Don’t worry about Smooze.” The aforementioned blob entered the store. “I’m paying.” Cheerilee focused on Meg’s mane. “Should you be worried that Discord is on your head?” Meg’s eyes looked up, trying to see him. Discord reached down to wave his paw in front of an eye. “I’m aware he’s there,” she said, “and, no, there’s no cause for concern.” Discord vanished then reappeared by Meg’s side, back to his normal size. “Oh, please. Just because I'm being friendly doesn't mean I shouldn't cause concern. You make me sound like I've been fixed.” He'd gotten a Cone of Shame from somewhere, and was scratching at it with his rear rear leg—the one with a draconic claw. “Okaaay.” Cheerilee turned her attention to Smooze, examining him from top to bottom. “So this is the Smooze that I’ve been hearing about.” Smooze stood in front of some shelves, eyeing the well-stocked selection of various sweets. Bon Bon came out from behind the counter, no doubt to keep a close eye on him. It was easy to fear that he’d help himself—that was one reason Discord was there, to keep a check on him—but it was an unfounded fear. Smooze’s self-control was better than that. Meg directed a hoof at the purple blob. “Yep, that’s him.” “Do you think he could come to my class and tell my students about himself?” A large pair of eyes floated around his body to look at the teacher, then floated some more to look at Meg. A single word came out of the earpiece: “Maybe?” Bon Bon’s ears twitched, being close enough to have picked up that word. “Is he talking to you somehow?” “Sort of. It’s a work in progress. We’re coming up with a translator using a combination of magic and human technology.” Her laptop was in her saddlebags. “I think he’s willing, but the translator needs more work first.” Smooze returned his attention to the candy-laden shelves, slowly oozing along in front of them. Cheerilee’s gaze locked onto Meg, not letting her off that easily. “Perhaps instead you could give a presentation on human technology? I’m sure my students will find that fascinating.” Where to even start? “Uh… maybe?” In hindsight, it’s surprising she hadn’t asked sooner. “I’d have to check with Twilight first,” she said, to encourage a change of subject—mostly. Discord stared at the teacher in indignation. “I had a paw in this too, you know.” The earth pony looked up in surprise. “You did?” “I did,” he said. “I came up with the enchantment that permits Smoozie’s aura to be observed by pony-enchanted crystals.” It was something he still tweaked now and then. “And,” Meg continued, “Twilight came up with the original enchantments that turn those observations into something that can be processed by human technology.” That was a gross simplification, of course. “Moondancer has mostly taken over that part of the work. And I…”—aware she was about to confirm that—”handle that last part.” “I… see.” Cheerilee turned thoughtful. “I suppose any large project is never the work of a single pony.” She brightened. “That’s an important lesson in and of itself. Maybe it could be a group presentation!” She took a step toward the shop’s entrance. “Anyway, I look forward to hearing from you once you’ve had a chance to speak with Twilight.” Cheerilee left the store, leaving Smooze as the only customer. The Smooze had moved to a display in the middle of the shop. “See anything you like?” Bon Bon asked, still keeping a wary eye on the purple blob. His eyes drifted around to face the pony. “So. Many. Choices.” As Bon Bon was standing not far from Meg, she had little difficulty hearing the words from the earpiece. Before Bon Bon could reply to that, Discord appeared next to her and double-tapped her on the head with a talon. “Ow. What’s that for?” He walked away from her annoyed stare. “Just checking. You’re not a changeling.” That could have been handled with more tact. “I’m sorry about that,” Meg said with a placating smile. “Though actually… Lyra wouldn’t happen to be around, would she?” Bon Bon stiffly walked back to the counter. “This is about that changeling she meets up with now and then, isn’t it? Let me guess: it took my form in your presence.” Meg wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself in the middle of—and how did Discord know about that anyway? Oh. Right. He was eavesdropping. Literally. “Uh… this really isn’t any of my business…” Bon Bon sighed from behind the counter. “It’s not what you’re thinking—probably. No, don’t tell me. Now that the local princess is involved, I’m staying out of it.” And it wouldn’t become any of Meg’s business either, unless Twilight made it so, which she hadn’t, and she couldn’t imagine she would. “Uh, works for me.” The Smooze had worked his way to the other side of the shop. A mare and her filly entered the store, spotted Smooze and Discord, and immediately backed out and left—to Bon Bon’s growing frustration. They needed to be on their way. “You don’t happen to have a sampler box, do you?” she asked Bon Bon. “Over there,” she tersely replied, pointing a hoof. Problem solved. “I’ll take three of them.” One for Smooze, one for herself and Steve, and one for her brother and his family. She hoped it’d be easy to tell which ones had flowers or hay or other ingredients unsuitable for human consumption. “No, make that four.” Might as well get one for the office. “No—five.” One for the next convention staff meeting too. Discord clapped his paw and claw. “You’re getting one for little old me?!” Meg rolled her eyes. “Fine. Six.” On a table, against the circular wall of the observatory, was one of the atomic clocks on loan from MIT. Steve gave it a quick look. “Still ticking,” he said. There really wasn’t anything that could go wrong. Power was reliable, and access was restricted. Naturally the device had been inspected by Arcane Scroll and several of the senior faculty when it had arrived from Ponyville, but there really wasn’t much to see. None had asked to see it again. The dome above shifted, opening up a slit that revealed the night sky. The Princess of the Night joined Steve in front of the clock. “It’s been a few days. Should not this clock have sped ahead of its counterpart down in Ponyville?” “Yes, but there’s no way to know by how much until we bring the two clocks back together again. The difference is really really small, far smaller than the time it’d take even light to travel from there to here. The longer we keep them apart, the more accurate the results. And again, thanks for letting it stay here at the highest point in Canterlot.” “It was an easy enough request to grant.” Luna walked over to the telescope that filled the building. “Before we start, perhaps you would like to see the stars through this?” “Sure.” He didn’t expect to see anything amazing. Stars remained points of light, no matter how big the telescope. You only saw just more of them, and he already knew there was nothing out there in this realm but stars. The telescope and the dome rotated in Luna’s magic, until an unusually bright star came into view. The telescope then tilted up to look at it. Looking through the eyepiece, she made some final adjustments. She stepped back. Steve approached the telescope. Looking through the eyepiece, he saw the star that Luna had been pulling closer. Already the brightest star in the sky, through the telescope it became far brighter still. But of course it was still a featureless point of light. How large were these stars? Would one ever resolve to a disk, as one would expect of a planet? It wasn’t any farther away than a planet. But what would the typical pony in the street think about it? “That star isn’t going to cause panic or anything, will it?” “I have already issued a statement that there is no cause for concern, that this is of my choosing.” He stepped back and considered the telescope as a whole. There was nothing out there but the sun, the moon, and the stars. No planets, no nebula, no galaxies, no asteroids, no comets, nothing else. There really wasn’t much to look at. Presumably he was seeing more stars, but without knowing the magnification it was hard to tell how many more. The sun was out of the question, so that left the moon—but the light from that was also magical in origin. He went back and examined the eyepiece. That telescope would be in a museum if it were on Earth. It was a refractor, long and thin, designed to be looked through by a pony. Back home, professional astronomers had long ago stopped doing that, relying on instruments that were far more sensitive and capable of analyzing light than the human eye. “Are there any attachments for analyzing the light itself?” Luna’s head tilted. “Whatever for?” It was going to be one of those conversations. “There is much that can be learned, for example what the star is made of, or what process is producing that light. We can even tell how fast it’s moving towards us or away from us.” “Truly?” She turned away in thought. “Twilight would know better than I, but there are none to my knowledge.” Steve looked through the telescope again. “We can probably borrow a spectroscope, or something—just have to figure out how to attach it. Don’t really know how informative it’d be. It’s likely a magical object, after all, like the sun and moon. Maybe it doesn’t have spectral lines.” “Spectral lines?” Of course she didn’t know. “Substances absorb or emit certain colors of light. That’s how we can tell the composition of an astronomical object by its light.” Luna looked through the slit in the dome, up into the sky. She contemplated the stars for a few moments. “Has Meg been sleeping peacefully? I cannot patrol dreams in your realm, even if she were a pony there.” The change in subject caught Steve of guard. “No repeat of that Tartarus nightmare, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t remember what I dreamt that night, but I’m guessing it couldn’t have been too bad if you didn’t have to intervene.” Luna nodded, her gaze still upon the stars. “That is so.” She gave him a curious look. “Is that not a good thing?” “Well, sure. I mean, it shouldn’t be hitting me so hard—I guess?—since I’m not the one being dragged into all these time loops…” Time loops. Loops. As in circles. Meg’s cutie mark? Could it have another interpretation? Luna was really scrutinizing him now. Steve shook his head. That wasn’t a productive line of thought right then. He quickly came up with something. “I was just thinking of that ‘Cutie Mark Crusaders Tartarus Escape Artists’ bit. That would’ve been something to see.” He grimaced; why did he pick that? “Please don’t ever mention that to them. Those fillies don’t need any help coming up with ideas.” Luna gave him a disapproving frown. “I do not share what I witness in dreams,” she said. “Besides, I know all too well the… enthusiasm with which they pursue ideas for potential cutie marks.” She walked off the imperceptibly rotating platform on which the telescope was mounted. “Let us resume your training. It shouldn’t be much longer before that star is close enough for your magic to provide answers of its own.” Steve followed her. They went through a side exit onto a balcony that encircled the observatory and walked around it until the approaching star was in front of them. He sat down on his haunches and began casting the spell. It had become second nature by now, hardly requiring any attention to maintain. It would still be a while before the spell locked onto the star and returned whatever data it was capable of discerning—not much, as it was still too far away. Whatever that “star” was, it couldn’t be a ball of hydrogen massive enough to produce energy from fusion. The light it emitted could not be powered by nuclear or chemical energy. Magic was the most likely explanation. Even the sun, he knew, was a relatively small object powered by magic. But why any stars at all? The sun had an obvious purpose. The moon… well not so much. It didn’t cause tides, for example, as it was far too small for that. The stars though… other than to make the night sky somewhat resemble that of his own world, what purpose could they possibly serve? And if purely cosmetic, then why not planets, comets, and nebulae—or at least objects that looked like them? Steve gazed at that star. It shouldn’t be many more days before he could get some answers. It was a gorgeous California day. There were barely any clouds in the sky, and only Mother Nature knew how long it would stay that way. Who cared if it was too hot when one was driving a car with air conditioning. A gentle breeze emanated from vents in the dashboard. Sounds of music filled the car. The morning commute still sucked. Meg pulled into the parking lot at work and went past a news van parked at the edge of the lot. It was impressive that they were already here. Driving all the way from the CBS News Bureau in San Francisco? Must’ve taken forever. The Secretary of Energy arrived last night and was staying at a nearby hotel; he was no doubt already inside. After parking her car, she grabbed Bon Bon’s sampler box and got out. Once inside the building, as she waited for the elevator, she wondered which correspondent they had sent. It probably depended on whether they intended to do a puff piece or rake them over the coals. It was hard to say which it would be; it could go either way. She was so glad she would not be saying anything on camera, if she was unlucky enough to be caught on camera at all. The door opened. Meg entered and pressed the button for the top floor. The ride up was uneventful. The door opened once more, and she exited. Nothing going on in the hallway. She walked up to the reinforced door to the offices. A key card swipe, a solid thunk, and she opened the door. All quiet. Where could they all be? It wasn’t really any of her concern. She headed off to her office. Going around the first turn she almost collided with her manager. Jake put a finger to his lips. “Shh. They’re about to film in front of your office door.” Wait. What? Sensing her confusion, he said, “Just follow me, and be quiet. Don’t worry, it’s not about you; you won’t be on camera or anything.” As they got closer, voices could be heard. Meg recognized Whitcomb, the Energy Secretary. He was explaining how magic was being used to prevent a repeat of the ransacking incident. A spell had been applied to her office that was powered by the magic generator within. She couldn’t imagine how the spell could be shown on camera. “Would it be possible to see a demonstration?” That voice… it was familiar, but something wasn’t right. “That’s what this axe is for,” replied Whitcomb. I guess that’s one way of showing it on camera. Theoretically, it wouldn’t even leave a scratch. And if it did… not her problem. “So, just swing as hard as I can.” “That spell is not being powered by double-A batteries, don’t forget.” Meg could practically hear the smile. A few seconds later, she was finally in position to see it. Using both hands, Anderson Cooper swung the fire axe into her door with everything he had. It barely made a thud. He set down the axe and inspected the impact site, rubbing his hand over it as a cameraman moved in. The soundman quickly moved the microphone into position. He rendered his verdict: “Not a scratch or dent.” “Just a taste of what Equestrian magic can do for us.” Meg whispered into Jake’s ear. “Doesn’t he work for CNN?” “On assignment for 60 Minutes,” he whispered back. That’s a thing? Wait. CBS is making this a 60 Minutes story? What were the odds of it being a puff piece now? No wonder Whitcomb was participating in this. “What about fire, or explosives?” the correspondent asked. “It should defend against those as well—at least any explosive that doesn’t take down the entire building. Magic generators may be nuclear powered, but even that has limits.” “Okay, I think we’re done,” Cooper said, motioning the two cameramen to stop recording. He took a quick look at his watch. “Sunset Shimmer should be here by now?” “I imagine so,” the Energy Secretary replied. “Or quite soon. I’ll take you to the testing vault now.” Whitcomb led the way. Cooper followed, and with him his cameramen and soundman. As Whitcomb went past her, he gave Meg a wink. Once they were out of sight, Meg asked Jake, “The vault? Sunset?” “You weren’t on the loop on that from the Equestrian side?” Meg shook her head. “Apparently not.” She started walking. “Let’s see how close we can get.” The whole thing obviously had been arranged between Twilight and Serrell. Not that they needed her permission, but some sort of heads-up would’ve been nice. Upon reaching the final stretch of corridor leading to the vault, they stopped, well back. The vault’s door was propped open—a huge no-no, but rules like that evidently didn’t apply to VIPs. The alarm installed after the “incident” must’ve been disabled somehow. The five of them were inside, looking around at the mixture of equine and human equipment, but no Sunset. “We should wait outside until Sunset arrives,” Whitcomb said, “I don’t think it’s a problem, but there’s no point taking the risk of her trying to materialize in the same space as one of us.” None of the others found reason to object. They quickly re-entered the corridor. Whitcomb spotted Meg. “Could you let Sunset know we’re waiting for her?” The others were looking at her too. No camera was pointing at her, but she just knew they were thinking it. What else could she do? She got the phone out of her purse and—trying not to drop the box of sweets—initiated the call. Cooper was obviously counting the seconds until he could ask the obvious question. The call was answered. “Hello? Meg?” “Yeah, just letting you know they’re waiting for you here. At the vault?” “Already? I’ll be there in a minute.” Meg returned the phone to her purse. “She’ll be here in a minute.” “That’s a regular phone, right?” Cooper asked. “And my understanding is that Sunset is currently in Equestria?” She nervously kept one eye on the cameras; for now, they remained pointed in no particular direction. With the other eye she glanced at Whitcomb. He gave no sign to withhold the answer. “A few ponies have been given phones. Even when in Equestria, they are on our cellular networks. It, uh, involves magic.” “So anyone who went to Equestria would have a signal?” “No, only enchanted phones work.” She sure as hell wasn’t going to say how they got enchanted. “There aren’t any cell towers there, not yet.” “But once enchanted, everything works: voice, data, SMS, the whole deal?” “That’s right.” “So, to be clear, certain ponies have unrestricted access to our internet—and that would include Sunset Shimmer.” Whitcomb interceded. “Why should we impose restrictions on them that we do not impose on any other nation on this planet?” “Hey guys. Didn’t expect you to be here so soon.” Everyone turned around. Sunset Shimmer stood in the doorway to the vault. Cooper slapped his forehead. “We should’ve caught your arrival on camera.” Sunset looked unsure. “Do you want me to go back and come again?” She spotted the box Meg was holding. “Isn’t that a sampler box from Bon Bon? I got one of those myself last week.” Meg hesitantly lifted the box as everyone looked at it. “Yes?” A camera was on and pointed right at her. “How did you acquire that?” Cooper asked. “Did you buy that yourself from Bon Bon?” “What?” She desperately searched for something to say, convinced that the camera had already convicted her. “Don’t be silly. Humans aren’t allowed in Ponyville.” “That’s true,” Sunset quickly added. “No human has yet to set foot in Ponyville.” “Then how did you acquire it?” “Uh… I’m not… really at liberty to say.” Whitcomb interceded again. “I’m sure it must’ve been a gift from one of the pony scientists we work with.” Cooper was about to say something, lifting a finger, then changed his mind. “I’d like to take a look at that when we come back, if you don’t mind.” Come back from where? Meg shrugged. “Okay?” Satisfied with that answer, he turned toward Sunset. “When can we visit the other lab?” “Right now, if you want. Twilight’s already there.” “How will we get there?” Sunset smiled. “Just stand close together and I’ll do the rest. We’ll be there in a few seconds.” Cooper signaled to the cameramen. “Have the cameras running. Let’s see what we get.” They both nodded and aimed their cameras at Sunset. “Just a warning: you may find it disorienting. It helps to close your eyes.” Sunset’s horn lit, grabbing the humans with her magic. “We’ll be teleporting to Equestria in three… two… one…” All six of them vanished. Meg looked down at the treacherous sampler box. “I bought this for the office,” she told Jake, “but it looks like I might have to buy another one.”