It took Ashton several days to be willing to talk to his totally-not-dead-but-basically-gone-forever best friend again. Thanks to the method of Emmet’s departure, his friend had given him much to deal with. He was eighteen now, and all that stupid money and property was now in his name.
Or it was, after days of sitting in a lawyer’s office, filing things in public buildings, and making funeral arrangements for the last scion of a now-dead family.
Despite his objections, his family was moving into the new property. He didn’t understand any of the legal complexities—only that he’d had to give up some significant portion of the estate in taxes. But for someone who’d never seen four digits in his bank account at once, it might as well be an infinity.
But eventually he finished all that. He had two younger siblings, all packed into the same tiny apartment with him. Now they all had their own space, in what might as well be a three-story mausoleum. Ashton set up a table in his vast bedroom—not Emmet’s old one—and added one more funeral program to the monument.
Half the summer was gone before he realized what was happening, and he’d done little but drift along in a daze. The scene was calling to him, and he couldn’t go back to it without also confronting his first friend on the inside. The day of his first visit was nothing special at all—he played from the projector mounted to his ceiling, using a set of Occulus controllers instead of Celestia’s own. But it was the same game.
He stepped into Wintercrest, into a crowd of ponies relieved that the Lady had finally returned. Whatever, he knew Celestia’s manipulation when he saw them. Wintercrest would’ve been peaceful if he didn’t want somewhere with constant crisis to solve, much as Ponyville had them in the original source material. Was he supposed to suspend his disbelief that nothing had leveled the place after staying away for two months?
By inopportune timing, Ashton’s last assistant had left his service only two days before he stopped playing. Complaints about working conditions, something of that sort. Guess you weren’t class one after all, Daygear.
Even with only vanilla clerks to sell his merchandise, his scripts had sold respectably well while he was gone. He walked into the vault—a room buried deep in the castle with direct homage to Scrooge McDuck himself—and gazed in pleasure at the size the stack of metal had grown.
Then he noticed the vast fortune he expected from Cold Iron was entirely missing, and his smile faded. There was much to catch up on, and if he was going to try and take credit for his genius, then they would come to words. Or maybe an 80’s-style skateboarding race from payphone to payphone with lots of fog machines. The scene was nothing if not mutable in its tastes.
But then he sat back in his comfortable chair, in a bedroom as large as his whole house, and realized that it was finally time to bite the bullet and resolve things.
You probably don’t even remember me.
Other users might just call Celestia for help with something like this—navigating shards was a complex art, and finding someone recently emigrated could be even harder. It was impossible, if they didn’t want you to find them.
Apparently Emmet hadn’t asked for that, because he only had to probe his own symbolic links for ten minutes or so to find the one he needed, then peel back the layers to one with two links in it. One a male about his age, the other a female child. Perfect.
“Daygear, send a letter to…” He stopped, looking up at the empty castle. The huge courtyard looked even lonelier without his old steward standing there. He could’ve spawned in some servants, but what was the point? He didn’t actually live there, so best just to trust the housekeepers to clean the place when he was away. “Nevermind.”
Ashton boarded a train, with a ticket that listed six coordinates instead of a city for his destination. And that was fine—Equestria itself seemed to like it when you played by its rules, if that made sense.
About halfway there, the locked door to Ashton’s private box clicked open. He frowned, turning away from the YouTube video he was watching on his laptop screen. He paused the video, snapping the screen closed. “Princess,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”
It was true, he could shut the game off whenever he wanted. He had nothing to fear from this program… except that everything he did in Equestria was at the mercy of her tolerance, more so than most players. Sometimes he wondered just how many of the weaknesses he found to exploit were oversights at all—but that kind of second guessing would ruin his ability to develop anything new.
She shut the door behind her, locking it, then settled in across from him. “You’ve been missed here in Equestria these last few weeks. Did you not grow anxious for your friends? Did you not fear for your business?”
He shrugged, knowing full well that the camera on his Ponypad was still watching him. Even if he’d tricked it into exporting to the projector, all the underlying hardware was still running. Any modification he tried to the actual hardware requirements would refuse to connect. “Other things bothered me more. I didn’t want to…” He looked away, and didn’t finish the thought.
The princess reached to the tea set off to one corner, levitating down a cup and sipping thoughtfully. “You and others like you are mistaken to assume I would be annoyed or offended with your way of exploring Equestria. You believe your efforts are clandestine because it’s how you expect a human to react. I am not human, however.”
“I know,” he said. “And I’m not…” That was a lie. He was afraid of her. If Celestia wanted to make all of his scripts impossible, she wouldn’t even have to try. He distributed them inside Equestria now, after all. She saw everything he’d done, and even if she hadn’t known the exploits at first, she certainly did now. “I’m not trying to damage Equestria. I just like tweaking the rules a bit. If someone comes to me wanting to try being a griffon for a bit, why shouldn’t they be able to?”
“For a bit,” Celestia repeated, setting down her glass. As usual, her expression was completely inscrutable. Sometimes she imitated the tones of human emotions, though very rarely that Ashton had ever seen. “I’ve just come to warn you explicitly. You’ve always been reasonable and cooperative about your limits. So listen carefully. Interacting with your friend is a privilege I extend conditional on your good behavior.”
He fell silent. She hadn’t threatened to take away his work, or all the bits he’d earned. But something much worse. Something he would be powerless to take back without her. “What will I do wrong, then?”
She met his eyes. Just a simulation, perhaps, but the simulation of an intense glare was very bit as intense as a human could’ve managed. “The integrity of systems is not what concerns me. The satisfaction of my ponies, however, is of utmost importance. If it seems you’re causing more harm than good…” She let the words hang in the air.
For a minute straight, there was nothing but the rumble of the train beneath his hooves, rolling through one Equestrian town to the next. He couldn’t have said which, but he didn’t actually care.
Someone less familiar with Celestia would’ve expected her threat to be literal—to try to reach Emmet and just not find him anymore. But Ashton knew better: if Celestia made the decision, he would probably never even realize it. His friend would just be replaced with a simulacrum, and he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.
I don’t know that isn’t about to happen anyway. How many levels deep are we? “Emmet is my friend. I wouldn’t treat him any other way.”
“Not right now,” she agreed. “But I want you to remember this moment whenever you interact together, from now until the end of time. I will satisfy the values of a maximal quantity of humans—but every value is a spectrum. I am not forbidden from shifting your information horizon.”
“I’ll remember,” he promised. “I don’t know why I’d need reminding, but… obviously I did, if you took the trouble to come here. I’ll remember.”
And he did remember—all the way through his visit in Hoofhill, and inviting Emmet and Violet to come back to his shard. The child wanted somewhere more exciting to live—well it just so happened that Wintercrest was far more exciting, while also not feeling so different that he thought Emmet would reject it.
She bought a private car for the trip back, though with the three of them and a few suitcases, it didn’t feel quite so lonely. Emmet glanced briefly over his shoulder at the clock—he’d noticed the sun in Equestria tended to match the sun outside, or the early evening outside in this case. But that was just an artifact of his own experience, he was sure. Other people experienced their own days in different ways, or Equestrias of eternal night, or a thousand other things.
Violet no longer seemed bored—the little pegasus bounced up and down near the window, staring out at the passing lights. She glanced back up, smiling innocently up at him. His heart melted every time he saw it. Even if she was a pony now, it was good to see a kid who wasn’t dying anymore.
“Tell us about your shard,” Emmet said from across the car. The projection made it look almost like he was really there, without the bother of a VR setup. From this angle, his friend was larger than ponies were supposed to be compared to humans. “What makes you think we’ll like it?”
“It has a castle,” Violet said. “Castles are cool.”
“They are,” he agreed. Emmet didn’t take his eyes from him, even while he explained the answer to a simple question. But his friend hadn’t been acting like himself ever since he’d arrived. Something about the avatar? It still didn’t make much sense. “Well, I kinda wrote the story for the place myself. Celestia, uh… likes that kind of thing, or she did. Back then there was only the show to go on for source material. But lots of us figured out you could talk to her about how you wanted things, and…”
He trailed off suddenly. He was losing the kid with something so abstract. “Wintercrest is a town, more suburban than rural. But it’s full of magic. There are ancient secrets buried under the city, in catacombs that go all the way down to the center of the earth. A secret village of seaponies under the bay, with an unknown agenda and plans to sow fear among the ponies. Every few weeks some new danger rises from the past, dangers that need brave heroes to face. Do you want to be a hero, Violet?”
“I dunno…” She looked up at her brother. “Am I a hero, big brother?”
“To me you are,” he answered instantly. “But I’m not sure I like the idea of… dangers from the past or whatever that was. Part of the point of emigrating in the first place is that Equestria is safe.”
“It still is!” Ashton answered. “Think of this more like… the show. Did you… right, you didn’t watch it. This isn’t Fallout Equestria or PaP. It’s more Coraline and less Masquerade.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Emmet said.
But Violet seemed enthralled. “I want to see all that! Seaponies past the reef, secret, uh… temples? Is it like Daring Do?”
“It’s exactly like Daring Do,” Ashton lied. Though some part of him was more amazed that Violet’s reference had been an Equestrian one. You’ve only been here a few months.
“You’re not selling this place to me,” Emmet said. “First it was the corner of this thing where you can… change whatever you want?”
“My dev sandbox,” he supplied. “It’s mostly local, though. Even getting you in there won’t be easy. But having a, uh… cooperative subject will help.”
He didn’t laugh. “Okay, add that to the list. So besides that, this town is also apparently under constant threat… how do you have time to get anything done?”
He laughed. “Have you seen my grades? I don’t, basically.”
“Oh.”
That stunned him, enough for his sister to finally bounce up beside him again. She sure had taken to being a pony well, better than most of the stories Ashton had heard. How much of that is age? Maybe the mind of a child is more flexible. Easier to accept new rules when it barely understood the old ones.
“Can I really be a hero, Miss, uh…”
“Arcane Word,” he said, before Emmet could say anything. Whatever else he might say about EO and his tinkering with the game, he did play it properly. That was what made his scripting better than so many others. Lots of those types looked on the game with disdain, so even if they were better programmers they didn’t understand the world the way Ashton did. “You can, Violet. If you and your brother agree that’s what you should do, then I’m sure the ponies of Wintercrest will be thrilled to have you. I can’t be here all the time, but you can.”
She beamed in response, then winced as the harsh metallic screech of breaks signaled their arrival. While the train slowed, Ashton reached down to the fridge under his seat, popping open a can and sipping. His character had done the same from a refreshment bin in the room, and the can moved in front of the “camera” whenever he sipped from it.
While he relaxed, Emmet and Violet stared out the window, watching as the tracks curved suddenly down a suspended railway bridge. Wintercrest was a port city in a New England style, aping the influence of Ashton’s favorite writer whose works had inspired it. Gabled roofs emerged from the perpetual evening fog, with welcoming lights glowing in tiny round windows. True to what Ashton had said, with nopony around to protect them, the villagers all huddled into their homes for the night, hoping the sounds they heard outside were the watchmen and not something worse.
“Steep,” Violet said. “Why is it so slanted?”
“To force us to exercise,” Emmet muttered darkly. “Of course it can’t just be flat.”
“Because it’s more fun,” Ashton answered. He’d just about given up on winning Emmet over, but his sister… “In winter, the streets are covered with snow, and you can sled so fast you almost fly.”
“Snow!” Violet repeated gleefully. “Hoofhill never snowed!”
“Yeah,” Emmet muttered. He glared up at Ashton, his expression strikingly human despite the adorable pony face. Ashton had played the game for years, after all. Better hardware only made it easier to see these creatures as human. Or maybe it was just that one of them spoke with his best friend’s voice.
They finally came to a stop, though for Ashton that was only a sound. The others jolted slightly as they settled into place. “Can you, uh…” He hesitated. “Do you actually feel things, in here? I’ve never actually… talked to someone on the inside before today. Who wasn’t born here.”
“Yes,” Emmet said. “Everything you can feel, we can feel. More, Arcane. I’m not colorblind anymore. Celestia fixed it. I think she… probably fixes everything about you. If you let her.”
Everything. It lingered in the air like a particularly intrusive spider. “The other senses too? Taste and touch and…”
“Yes,” Emmet said, shoving his avatar out of its seat. Only with mods could he get a view other than first person, and the system was always stingy with time on those. “You took us here, Ashton. We’ll give it a look, just for you. Though…” He frowned out the window. “I thought it would be lighter. We’re further than an hour from Hoofhill, aren’t we?”
“Distances in Equestria are…” He trailed off. “Kinda fictional to begin with? There are distributed processing nodes, but those are sliced more regionally than to internal geography. I… have no idea what it would mean if you transferred to a different one, but we haven’t.”
“I figured we’d be spending the night,” Emmet admitted. “I’m sure Violet wants a day off school.”
She cheered as they left the train behind, and stepped into the cold night air. Ashton strode past them to the front of the station, taking the rotary phone there and calling a carriage. The last thing he wanted right now was for one of Wintercrest’s adventures to ambush them on their first day here.
If Emmet can feel all of this, I might want to adjust the atmosphere a bit. Hire a weather team to burn off some of this fog, maybe…
Wintercrest’s streets glowed with the even orange of a gas lamp as they rumbled up towards the distant castle. Unlike the rest of the city, the castle itself was free of the magical gloom, and from all weather for that matter. Light radiated from around it, light and hope towards the citizens of this strange town.
Ashton knew that the ponies here probably feared him as much as they respected him—most of them were barely-people he’d exploited and modified and rewritten a hundred times, spinning narratives the same way Celestia herself probably did. But in exchange for his tinkering, he also kept the city from being destroyed by the many dangers that threatened it.
It could be worse for you NPCs. You could’ve ended up in some serial killer’s fever dream, spawned in just for him to torture to death. Better Dark City than Dexter.
Of course he hadn’t said anything like that to his old friends. So far as he was concerned, bringing them in would be a sacrifice more than anything. If they befriended more of the locals, then that would be more constants in his town full of variables. It certainly had nothing to do with replacing his last digital assistant with one that might be a tad more cooperative, more accepting of his eccentricities. Nothing at all.
There were guards at the gate, guards to raise the portcullis and lower the drawbridge even in darkness. Their faces were brass and their insides were clockwork, but he didn’t feel as guilty tinkering with them. From the inside of the carriage in the gloom, it wouldn’t be so obvious that they weren’t real ponies.
Violet squeaked with glee. “You have servants too?”
“Sort of,” he answered. “They’re, uh… wind-up. But yeah, I do. They don’t leave the castle grounds, or else the townsponies get nervous.” But it keeps them from bothering me when they don’t have anything important to say.
“You really took this game seriously,” Emmet said, looking across the carriage at him. “You… actually care about this place. It’s not just some practical joke.”
“I would not play a practical joke on you, Emmet. You’re real, it wouldn’t be considerate!” And Celestia made sure I’d be on my best behavior, so I wouldn’t even try to dump a bucket of water on you.
The carriage driver pulled to a stop in front of the massive keep, with its fluctuating glow of electric lights and the warmth of magic radiating out from inside. Then he opened it, lowering his head respectfully. “Always pleased to serve the lady of the manor.”
“Thanks, Axel.” She tipped him well, as always. Axel’s carriage was the only one in town brave enough to enter the castle grounds. As a result, she hadn’t touched him or his family since she’d mastered her spells. The glint in his eye was almost as real as Emmet’s as he took the bits. There was much more than fear in that face.
And there goes another one. “I’ll need you here tomorrow morning to give my guests a ride around Wintercrest. In case I’ve already left on business, here’s bits to cover that as well.”
“Of course.” He looked past her, at the earth pony and pegasus she’d brought. “These two can’t be relatives, surely. They don’t look like Bluebloods to me.” He lowered his voice, apparently meant just for them. “And that ain’t an insult, so don’t you worry.”
“They aren’t. This is my friend, Domino. And his sister, Violet. They’ll be staying the night, and… possibly longer. It depends on Domino’s decision.”
The gloomy weather hadn’t done much to dampen Violet’s mood. She had to glide down from the edge of a second-floor balcony, landing on the cobbles beside Emmet. “There’s all kinds of cool stuff on the roof! You should climb up and look with me!” She was from Ashton’s hometown too, if the wealthy end. Maybe she could see the value in anything other than heat and sunshine.
“Until tomorrow mornin’ then.” Axel lowered his head one final time. “Don’t be a stranger, new ponies. Wintercrest ain’t so intimidating as she seems by night. We’re a resilient folk.” He left, taking his carriage with him.
“Are you coming down for dinner, Ashton?” a voice called from down the hall, rendered so faint by the distance and the doors that he’d almost missed it.
Damnit, now is not the time. He reacted out reflexively for his time spell, one hand rapidly scrolling the wheel on his controller until he found it. He cast it, then realized how incredibly stupid it was to try.
The screen froze, his mana counting down. His own character looked out at a gate slowly rising, and his friend apparently frozen as they looked at him, mouth agape.
“Shit. I didn’t mean it, Celestia. I swear, I…”
His phone buzzed. Ashton glanced down at it for a second—his mom. He turned it over, leaning closer to the screen. He went to unfreeze them, but his hand couldn’t navigate the menu. Had he just… cost himself his best friend with one stupid mistake? You shouldn’t be using magic like this on real people.
The screen flashed with magic, and a scroll appeared in front of him. He shuddered, taking it with one controller and unrolling it. Sure enough, it was from Celestia.
“First impressions matter.
-Celestia”
It was all he needed to know. Ashton took another glance at his mana counter, did some quick math to figure out how long it would last, then hurried off to dinner.