Investigate the Infusion of Stability instead
It physically hurt Twilight to leave information behind. But there was no way to rationalize sitting down in an alien device that was covered with warnings she could barely translate. It’s okay, Twilight. It’s still going to be here. I know exactly where this thing is, I can come back to it if I need to. Or they could come back and rip it right out of the floor for study. There didn’t seem to be any Signalers around to tell them otherwise.
The “Infusion of Stability” was back down the glass stairwell, then down the central hallway that led straight through the building. This time the path took a significant time to walk not because of any hazards along the way, but because of the abundance of information waiting for her. The Signalers who had built this place did so with intricately carved bas-reliefs, each one apparently laser-etched in glass.
The first image seemed like nothing to her, until Node explained. “This is the local galactic supercluster seen from the viewpoint of a hypothetical observer.”
“You have that, but you don’t know what your creators looked like?”
“I was given only relevant information. The appearance of beings I will never encounter is not relevant.”
With each new image, the hallway narrowed just a little, and the lights got brighter. The second image involved incredible mathematics, which at first she thought was some kind of display. While approaching from the side, it seemed like she was seeing a single galaxy. But as she walked, the little stars went out one after another, until there were only the last wisps of gas and stars along the edge. There was no mechanical action involved, however, it was just a matter of her position.
“Is this… a progression of time?” Twilight asked. “Is this… infusion… about deep time?”
Node sounded uncertain. “Then the positions would be different, and the stars to remain would belong to the same luminary class. This image depicts a… systematic deconstruction. Not of this galaxy, however. I do not recognize this pattern.”
You wouldn’t. Not if it was deconstructed. Twilight passed to the next image. The hallway had gone from wide enough for the prospector to wide enough for five pones to walk abreast, and still it narrowed. Towards a central point half a kilometer ahead.
The next image was a sheet of black glass, which she thought might be completely blank. Except… no, there was something in the very center. A sharp depression, so steep she wasn’t sure how the glass could hold together like that. “What do you think this one is?”
“Unknown?” Node stared at the depression. “I am not familiar with this.”
“You must know something.” Twilight said, and she didn’t even try to keep the annoyance from her voice. “When we first spoke to you, you kept saying how much danger we were in. You said that my crew and I would die without your help. Is this not the danger you were talking about?”
“No,” Node answered. Not even a split-second’s hesitation. “If this is dangerous, I am not able to protect you from it. But that is an assumption. Perhaps this is a construction plan. Perhaps it is a threat, or a warning. Perhaps it is a creation myth. Or an apocalypse myth.”
Twilight continued down the path as it narrowed still more. Further galaxies were depicted, a sweeping image of billions of stars going out. Until she reached the end, and the sculpture dropped down into a lightless void. An almost perfectly-clear platform stretched out over the darkness, without any visible supports or railings. Twilight spread her wings, ready to catch herself, and lit her horn with a faint purple glow.
She didn’t have much further to go. An object hovered in the air at the very end of the hall, perhaps as large as a pony’s head. Something like a magic field held it perfectly suspended in the air, a dull metallic sphere with various protrusions along it. As she approached, the object seemed to animate, unfolding various tendrils until it was nearly her size. Yet there was nothing like weapons pointed at her, no openings or even cameras. “I don’t understand…” Twilight stopped about ten meters from the object, lighting up her horn a little brighter to get a better look. “Do you know what this is, Node?”
It resembled a probe, the smallest possible type that could survive incredible accelerations.
Node didn’t stop where she did, but continued until it was directly beside the object. After a few seconds where Twilight guessed it was interfacing with the object digitally, it started to shrink again. The many little fins retracted, and the machine closed up to something resembling a sphere.
Then it dropped, right into one of Node’s waiting hands. “It is… gift? No, not quite. Emergency… countermeasure. If you fail as…” Node stopped. “As we did.” Node extended its clawlike hands, offering the object to Twilight. She took it in her magic reflexively, and instantly the sphere began to shimmer along its edges, displaying thousands of little outlines. Almost as though it had been constructed to respond to magic, waiting for it. Twilight could feel… gravity.
Twilight attempts to resist the pull. Success
Her stomach nearly fell out from under her as she looked at the object, as the floor seemed to shift to its shimmering surface, even though her hooves were still firmly on the ground. She could let that gravity pull her in, if she wanted.
1. Stop fighting. There’s something down there. I have to find out what it is. [dangerous]
2. Give the Countermeasure to Node, then investigate Perpetuity. It didn’t seem to have any trouble carrying this. So long as nopony goes near it, we should be able to study it safely.
3. Leave the countermeasure behind, then investigate Perpetuity. I don’t know what this is, and Celestia knows it’s too dangerous to bring back with us.
4. Destroy it. This thing is dangerous. I don’t care why the Signalers made it, it’s not getting anywhere near the ponies I love.
(Certainty 210 required)