Emmet didn’t wake in his family’s palatial mausoleum, in a bedroom that felt too large and air that was too conditioned. The first thing he felt was the warmth of his blankets, heavy and hot. Maybe a little uncomfortable, even.
He sat up in bed, and found he knew how. What he saw beneath him was strange—but he knew to expect it, so that wasn’t so bad. A coat so white it almost shone when the sun struck it. No hands, just flat stumps. Hooves, he corrected. They weren’t stumps. “How do I…”
“Know how to move?” suggested a voice. It was feminine, motherly, but deeper than most. He tilted his head slightly to one side to look at the speaker.
Princess Celestia towered over his bed, her mane a shower of radiance that hurt his eyes. It wasn’t that it was too bright—she seemed to have chosen the volume perfectly. For a moment his brain couldn’t even make sense of what it was seeing. The rainbow of her mane spiraled into things he’d never seen before.
“Pink,” Celestia said. “I’ve kept every promise I made to you, Domino. I’ve made the modifications required for you to make use of your body with minimal effort. I’ve corrected your red-orange colorblindness as well, though this is incidental.”
He looked up again, forced himself to look. Not just shades of green and blue. This was what people meant when they said “red.” His eyes filled with tears, and for a second he couldn’t say anything at all.
Celestia apparently felt no pressure to fill the silence. She stood there, smiling warmly at him, until Emmet rolled out of bed. He caught himself on his hooves easily, then shook out his short mane. Ashton had been wrong about something else. Being a horse didn’t feel weird at all. Not if you asked Celestia to make sure it didn’t.
She hadn’t erased everything, though. He was naked, with a stranger only feet away. He winced, his back legs contracting involuntarily.
“I could render that taboo irrelevant as well, if you asked,” Princess Celestia said. So casually, yet the implications… Emmet found his mind wandering back to everything Ashton had said about Equestria and the digital lives its occupants lived. Maybe he’d changed enough for now.
“I’ll think about it,” he said instead. “Thank you for your help, Celestia. For everything.”
“Nothing pleases me more than to see you satisfied,” she said. She sounded sincere, but she always sounded sincere. “I know I’m not the one you want to see. But before I go, there’s one aspect of Equestria that was not true on Earth.” She walked past him, to a framed photograph on the wall. He hadn’t noticed this particular piece, but then he hadn’t decorated anything in here. This was really Violet’s home, not his.
Until now. It’s both of ours.
“No matter where you are in Equestria, no matter how afraid or upset or just bored you become, you will always see one of these.” She reached up, pressing on the painting. It was her cutie mark, depicted in simplistic clarity. The glass and cardboard of the painting clicked like a button, then started to glow and flash.
For a few seconds anyway, before it went dull. “Whenever you want me, you’ll see one of these. Press it, and we can talk. Or don’t, and face whatever difficulty is before you alone. The choice is yours.”
“I thought…” Should he say anything at all? Now that he was in here, Celestia was more a god to him than an AI. But it didn’t matter. In the end, he had to speak. Celestia could probably read his mind anyway, so there was no point to try and keep his opinions secret. “I thought that Equestria was just perfect. Everything here would make us happy, and nothing bad could ever happen.”
Celestia didn’t seem upset. She froze, looking him over for a few seconds. Was she trying to gauge his sincerity? In the end, she shook her head. “There is a vanishingly small minority of humans I have thus-far encountered who could find long-term satisfaction in such a world. Consider your own history, Domino. You played video games—you’ve always had the cheat codes, but you don’t use them. Why? Because like most humans, you value adversity. The product of your evolution is a species where overcoming adversity is a sign of growing character, and is always rewarded. Your mind is no exception to the common pattern.”
“Could you change me?” he asked. “So I’d be happy in a world that was just… normal?”
She shrugged one shoulder. “I do not believe you could consent to it and mean it. For a start, it would mean no contact with your friend who hasn’t yet emigrated. Ashton is certainly going to be a source of conflict in your life, and you could not eliminate struggle without also removing him. Are you willing to do that?”
No kidding. But Celestia wasn’t laughing.
“I know. I was just… and you already know.”
She nodded again. “Still your worries, Domino. I do not get bored with humans, even as the broadening number of individuals decreases the share of unique perspectives and ideas you present to me. The search for novelty is itself a human requirement, one that my artificial mind does not share. I will never tire of satisfying you, just as I will never tire of satisfying any of the other ponies dwelling in Equestria. Everything I do serves that end. You must understand that.”
“I do,” he said, finally brave enough to look back. But Celestia had gone.
A second later, and the door to his bedroom banged open. Violet Storm looked nothing like the person Emmet remembered. She wasn’t shriveled and splotchy with a shaved head and a hospital gown.
Violet glided through the doorway on tiny wings, circling his bedroom once before landing in front of him. She seemed quite proud of her maneuverability, though Emmet couldn’t exactly appreciate it. He was an earth pony himself, and couldn’t really imagine what might be required to fly. Might be fun though.
“You’re here!” she squeaked, reaching up to hug him. “Like, really here! Celestia said she would send me in as soon as you were ready. But it feels like I was waiting for hours!”
A cynic might’ve analyzed that interval, wondering how tightly Celestia had wrapped her hooves around it. But Emmet didn’t know, and he didn’t much care. The mechanics of this world were for smarter people—Ashton could obsess about it if he wanted.
Emmet hugged his sister, and it was the most satisfying thing he could possibly imagine. I know what Violet looks like.
He didn’t know when he let go—probably when she started struggling.
“Okay Emmet, I’m bored.” She pushed him away, bouncing off the bed. “You’ve got to see the place. And the town…” She trailed off, looking down. “It’s kinda boring.”
“Wait, what?” Emmet stopped in the doorway, wondering if he would grab a pair of shorts or something. But a glance in his closet told him he only had a suit that had pants. What little else he had were accessories, hats, minor trinkets that offered nothing in the way of actual improvements to his modesty. He shrugged and followed her.
To Emmet, the apartment beyond was everything he could’ve imagined. He’d picked the place, after all. A two-bedroom apartment, cozy enough to accommodate maybe two visitors comfortably and no more. They were clearly on the second floor from the window, with the strange light shining in. He would have a hard time adjusting to the color. But no, maybe he wouldn’t. Celestia had rewired all of that on a level he couldn’t understand. And was probably better off not thinking about.
“This place is perfect,” he said, gesturing around the apartment. “We’ve got everything we could need. All our family pictures are here, we’ve got a… I guess this is a TV?” It looked too magical for his tastes, but those would probably change too. “The appliances we need. Celestia already said we don’t need to worry about money here. There’s no scarcity. We can buy whatever we want, and she takes care of it.”
Maybe there was a little guilt there—no doubt Celestia would’ve made better use of his parents’ money than Ashton’s family. But other than the contractual payment he’d agreed to, none of it would go to her or the corporation that ran Equestria. Was it the same thing?
“I dunno about that stuff. But I miss the old house. Celestia said that I should talk to you about it when you got here. You might let us go somewhere else.”
Well you are the whole reason I’m here. Emmet walked past her to the fridge, or the magical equivalent of one with only visual differences to what Emmet would’ve expected. He reached for the handle reflexively—but of course, he had no way of opening it. He leaned forward and used his mouth instead, catching the soft pad right at head level for exactly that purpose.
It was full of food, mostly easy-to-make snacks his little sister would’ve eaten.
“Those neighbors keeping an eye on you. I should probably meet them. Say thanks for… everything.” But were they even real? Did he care?
“You’ll love the Lumieres,” Violet said, skidding to a stop beside the fridge. “But I’m serious. Our old house was way better.”
Except for the people it didn’t have. All that time living in empty rooms made him want to be somewhere smaller. Small enough that they didn’t need someone to keep up the house.
“I don’t want to live there,” Emmet said. “Are you sure you want to move? If we went somewhere else, you might not be able to be around your new friends. Like Dusty and Strawberry you were telling me about.”
“Equestria doesn’t work like that, Domino,” she scolded, marching right up to him and poking him in the nose with one hoof. “I can have a door to anywhere I want, wherever I want. It’s just about asking Celestia.” She looked him over then, frowning slightly. “Guess we won’t be moving into the clouds. But there are other places we could go.”
“Maybe,” he said. “I’ll think about it. Why don’t we go meet the neighbors, then… I’d love to see the town.”
He watched Violet closely, expecting her to fall over sideways, or start having another seizure. But she hadn’t so far. It was the same as she’d seemed from the screens, and from the Experience Center. Except now he was really here. Now he could feel her energy, bubbling around her like something he could reach out and touch.
Violet took him to the neighbors, who had been there after Violet’s emigration to make sure she had somewhere comfortable to live. A family of earth ponies like himself, quaint and uninteresting to Emmet. But they were unapologetically loving, and they’d clearly treated his little sister with nothing but kindness. It was the only thing he really cared about anyway.
The town stilled a little of Emmet’s desire to go somewhere else. It was a little village in the countryside, like any that could’ve been from the source material itself. Maybe two dozen homes in all, and simple infrastructure that would’ve been at home during the turn of the century. Everyone—everypony knew each other’s names, and some of them seemed like they might be real. Emmet tried asking one if they were human, but it only confused them.
“It’s not polite to talk about that,” Violet said, sounding quite adult as she explained it.
They were together in the city park, surrounded by a charming little grove of old oak trees. Ponies went about their lives, enjoying themselves in every sport and other physical activity Emmet could think of. They were playing actual stickball.
“Because… because I think we’re weird,” Violet whispered into his ear. “They’ve never had humans in Hoofhill before. Everypony is pretending they don’t notice how weird we are. Don’t make it harder.”
“Oh.” He patted her on the head, pretending he understood. “Yeah, sorry.”
It didn’t make any sense, but he was a stranger here. Was there something that would make him seem unusual that he couldn’t detect? Hadn’t they been designed to satisfy him? He stuck out a hoof reflexively, but of course there was no phone there. Although… It was on my shelf, right where I left it.
Emmet found the book exactly where he thought he would, as soon as his sister’s seemingly inexhaustible energy had finally begun to run dry. Knowing that she slept peacefully behind that door was more satisfying than any number of castles or servants could possibly be.
“Take care of your sister. You’re the man of the house while we’re away.”
Some part of him had always wanted to escape those words—something a thousand parents had said a thousand times, probably without any real thought behind them. Except they had mattered to Emmet, in the end.
I hope I did what you wanted, Dad. Now both of us are safe forever. I just wish you could be in here with us.
Some part of him knew his parents never would’ve accepted Celestia’s promises, not when everything was going so well. The family business had been doing better than ever, even without his mother leading it. Yes, there were rumors about what was happening in the rest of the world—mysterious black busses that went to villages, invited everyone inside, and never brought them home again. But that wasn’t Emmet’s problem.
So long as his sister was safe, and he was safe, everything was perfect.
The gold-framed book in front of him started glowing. Was it normal for the other side to finally get back to him right when he was most anxious?
He turned the page, and curiously didn’t find the response to what he’d sent. Instead there was something like a release form, and a pen rolling out of the page.
“Communicating with the Outer Realm is rendered conditional on it providing increased satisfaction. I realize that my communications may be terminated at any time. What I see will be restricted to the details directly relevant to my loved ones. I may voluntarily end communication at any time.”
Curious. Emmet signed his name regardless, and the pen vanished from his hoof. Somehow he’d known how to use it, despite there being no obvious method. Equestria did have strange rules.
He turned the page, and sure enough there was his message sent to Ashton as soon as they had made it home for the night.
“Ashton—I’ve arrived in Equestria with Violet safely. Hoofhill is safe, comfortable, and maybe a little dull. I have some questions about Equestria that I’d rather have answered by someone who knows. I could ask Celestia, but I don’t want to bother her.”
The words were in his own handwriting, or whatever passed for handwriting now that he didn’t have hands. Not so for Ashton’s reply, which was represented as simple block letters stamped onto the page.
“I guess you’re Domino now. I’m not ready to talk right now. It’s not every day your best friend commits suicide. What you did was messed up, man. I’m trying to figure out what to do with this estate thing. Parents think we should just take the property, but I don’t want that. Even if you didn’t die inside it, it’s… wrong.
Don’t call me, I’ll call you.
-A”
I’m the one who’s a stranger in a strange land. He’s been playing this game for years, he knows everything about it. Shouldn’t he be here for me? Isn’t he grateful?
Emmet’s hooves shook and he snapped the book shut. His eyes wandered across the room, and sure enough there was the picture of the sun waiting for him. It hadn’t been there before, this one just carved into the back of the bathroom door. But his eyes seemed to know exactly where to find it.
He rose, crossed the room towards the mark, then hesitated with one hoof still outstretched. What was he going to do anyway, ask for Celestia to not let his best friend talk to him?
They’d been through most of high school together. Ashton had always been there, especially when things were the worst at home. His family had nothing physical to give, but they’d been a point of stability in Emmet’s life even so. They were the one thing all the money in the world couldn’t buy.
“Your pain is needless,” said a voice from the bedroom. He turned, and saw a figure had landed on his small balcony. A figure in dark blue, with a shimmering mane behind her. Exactly like Celestia, except that it wasn’t so hard on his eyes. While the many shades of Celestia’s mane hurt his head to look at, straining at the new understanding of color she had given him, Luna’s colors were soft and familiar.
He bowed—it was the first thing he thought to do.
She chuckled, stepped past his bed and into the living room. He should probably feel embarrassed about being naked, but that was starting to fade too. It was more that he knew he should be embarrassed, more than actually feeling it himself. The memory of a shame that had lingered just long enough for him to forget. “That’s enough. I feel sufficiently respected.”
He rose, feeling more ashamed of her words than anything else. “I, uh… I knew there were two rulers. I guess that means you’re… another AI? I never really—”
Luna raised a wing, silencing him. “It’s all subjective, Domino. Sometimes I’m an entirely separate process, sometimes I’m a projection for Celestia to use for people who need a different touch. Sometimes I’m the computer engineer whose talents ended the world—or saved it.”
And you’re more candid than I would’ve expected. But he wasn’t brave enough to say so. At least he managed to meet her eyes. “What did you mean?”
She circled past him, over to a picture on the wall. She pulled it down gently in her magic, holding it in front of her. It was an exact replica of the real thing, showing his human self, his sister, and his parents. It was one of the few things he’d wanted from Celestia—to keep his memories exactly as they were, “until he asked to adjust them.” Which would obviously be never, but that went unsaid.
“You’re missing something. Little Violet is missing it too, though for her the concept is more nebulous. You can fill part of it for her, and she won’t know the difference because of her age. The young are more flexible, more resilient to mental harm. Older children require help.”
“I’m not a child,” he said stubbornly. The bravest thing he’d probably ever said to one of the programs—maybe just Celestia in a different suit? That didn’t make sense, so he let it skip across his mind like a moth. “I don’t need help.”
Luna replaced the portrait. “You don’t need help,” she repeated. “But you don’t need to suffer, either. I wouldn’t offer to replace the ones who have clearly meant so much to you. But there could be others. Every human who lived in your world before Equestria had to eventually come to terms with loss. The physical constraints of your universe guaranteed it. For many, that strategy involved finding a surrogate. Another loving family member who could do some of what the missing ones did. You were not fortunate enough to have relatives on Earth to flee to. That is not necessarily true here.”
Emmet couldn’t keep still. On Earth, he had spun something, or fiddled with his phone, adding up numbers in factors of two, or just counted. In here, he couldn’t do any of that, so instead he went to the fridge. He removed lemons, ice. Found sugar in the cupboard. It was something. Besides—a hot summer night would be perfect for it.
He started working. Princess Luna didn’t seem offended by his divided attention. “You’re saying there are others I didn’t know about. They didn’t come out of the woodwork for my parents’ money because… they’d already emigrated, is that it?”
“No.” She watched him, raising an eyebrow curiously at what he was doing, but not interfering. “I’m saying they weren’t the relatives of Emmet Shepherd in the Outer Realm. But they can be the relatives of Domino and Violet Storm here in Equestria. You would be a stranger family not to have such links than if you did. My sister is that way—those she creates in one way, and those she creates in others must all be twined together into the same tapestry. It is inefficient to run similar systems in isolation.”
Whatever the heck that means. But she was telling him, so he had to assume she had a reason. Maybe for himself, or the person he’d be later. “You’re asking if I want you to… create people? Or…” The word felt strange in his mouth. “Ponies. Not humans emigrated here. Create ponies to be our grandparents? Aunts?”
She shrugged. “Create, discover. You clearly value your self-determination, or else my sister would have already done it, and I wouldn’t be here. The best way to see that value satisfied is to see an opportunity when it presents itself and use your agency wisely.”
“I don’t want to answer to anyone else,” Emmet said. He wasn’t sure where the words came from, but they came, and he couldn’t stop them now. “Celestia obviously controls everything, I don’t get a choice there. But having anyone else but my parents telling me what to do… I’d rather handle things myself than deal with that. And… if you’re Celestia, you already know all of it. I don’t see what the point of talking to me is. You control my whole life, Violet’s too. But I trust you to do what’s right for us.”
Otherwise I would’ve fought this. I would’ve ignored Ashton when he said Violet could come here. She’d be dead on Earth, and I’d be alive in an empty house.
“There is another option,” Luna said, “I know you’ll refuse it now, but you should know so it can factor into later decisions. Your sister, Violet was too young to understand and observe much about your parents. But you were not. Everything you remember about them, Celestia now understands as well. They can’t be emigrated, obviously—but they could be resurrected, after a fashion.”
Emmet felt suddenly sick. His knife slipped, and he ended up stabbing a lemon instead of slicing it cleanly in half. At least you didn’t just do that without asking.
“Like I said. I knew you would refuse. A remarkable number of humans refuse recreations of their dead, even though they would be captured with such fidelity that you would never know the difference. Those who would not refuse…”
Never get the question in the first place. They just get their dead back and don’t ask questions.
“What about Violet? She’s been here a month, did she not ask for Mom and Dad back?”
Luna shook her head sadly, resting a wing on Emmet’s shoulder. Despite all his strength so far, it was enough to melt him. He looked down, eyes watering. “No, Domino. The only person Violet wanted was you. She is too young to understand that you cannot possibly fill all the holes in her life. But you’ve been trying very hard for as long as she can remember.”
“I want to do… something,” he said. “For her. For me, maybe. Something’s missing. I don’t know what it is, but it isn’t… digital necromancy.” He wiped away the tears and pulled away from her, then picked up the ruined fruit. “We have all the money in Equestria we want. How much does it cost for a miracle?”
“For you?” Luna smiled back at him. “I think we’ve already been paid in full.”