//------------------------------// // Chapter 7 // Story: This is why you should never let ponies play Terraforming Mars // by Petrichord //------------------------------// Mining never stopped being a thankless process. It was perhaps the greatest of necessary evils of Mars, Venus — any planet that fostered any kind of pony life or pony labors. Buildings could not be forged on well-wishing alone; ships could not be fabricated with good intentions; habitations and transportations and all sorts of growing equipment did not suddenly come into being from hopes and dreams. And while Thorgate continued to send asteroids spiraling into Venus to set it on a correct course of rotation, while Thorgate pumped excess heat into the steadily increasing levels of atmosphere to bring warmth to the rocky planet, they also continued to expand into this necessary evil, the fundamental building blocks of civilization that ponies tried desperately to ignore: that the infrastructure of ponykind was still built on the blood, sweat and tears of the working class. And now, more than ever, it was needed. There were more mines needed, ever more. They needed more spaces for the mines to get what they needed, ever more. Triton would not offer up its sweet, fertile teat of industry’s lifeblood to Thorgate and Aphrodite and the Martian-Equestrian Multinational Establishment forever. But there were other planets, with other mining opportunities. Io had fuel in its belly and precious minerals in its skin: difficult to reach, but practically begging to be reached nonetheless. And it seemed like almost a moral obligation to see that fuel and minerals extracted and used for the good of ponykind. So, without any further preamble, Thorgate did. ******************************************* “That is...that is a truly absurd amount of money that you’re pulling in per year, darling.” Rarity coughed. “I...I’m not sure when you’re planning on actually attempting to terraform Mars, but…” Starlight shrugged. “I’ll leave that up to the ponies that are willing to exploit the minerals that other ponies provide. You know, the ones they take for granted.” “An excellent jab, dear.” Rarity grinned. “Almost enough to make me consider you a credible threat. Now, if you could only give as stellar a performance on the dusty plains as you do around the train table, I might be inclined to show some genuine trepidation.” “I’m sure the trepidation will come out when I bring a trade embargo out onto the table.” Starlight returned Rarity’s grin with a knife-sharp smile. “I’ll bet your research efforts on Stratopolis will go just swimmingly when you’re unable to procure any materials for any of your courses, laboratories, construction projects…” “You wouldn’t dare.” The venom oozing out of Rarity’s voice was belied by an almost playful smile. “And who’s going to offer kickbacks for your asteroid-crashing plans on Venus if you do that, hmm?” “And once again, we’re back to declarations of economic warfare.” Starlight waved a stack of unplayed cards in Rarity’s direction. “I don’t suppose that any ‘purely accidental’ miscalculations involving the precision asteroid strikes on Venus might make you reconsider not offering financial compensation?” Fluttershy giggled. Rarity arched an eyebrow. “Is there something funny about how Starlight’s plans are driven by the corporate greed brought about by the suffering of innocent workers, dear?” Fluttershy giggled a little more. “G-goodness, no! It just sounded like you two were really getting into the game.” Rarity’s eyebrow climbed even higher. “Is there something wrong with that?” Fluttershy shook her head. “Actually, I think it’s really nice. I know things are...things could be better, but...but watching the two of you look like you’re having fun, it’s…” Fluttershy’s ears drooped. “I-I guess that sounds pretty, um. Pretty dumb. I’m sorry.” Rarity stared at Fluttershy, incredulity etched into every last one of her features. Then, abruptly, she snorted. “I suppose it has been a little fun exercising my superiority, honestly.” Rarity’s sardonic smile disappeared, then replaced with a smaller, far more genuine one. “When I can forget about everything else and just listen to myself grandstand while I play, I’ll admit that the whole theatrical package is rather endearing.” “It...could be worse.” Applejack tipped her hat back. “Times like these, when folks are havin’ fun, it...feels like a lil’ bit of a shame to have to actually think about the stuff here that ain’t good.” “I feel like this could have been something we enjoyed if it wasn’t, y’know…” Rainbow Dash trailed of. “...which kind of stinks, honestly. Even despite what’s happening, I don’t regret this as much as I probably should.” Starlight scratched an itch next to one of her eyes. “...I still want to get to the end of this as quickly as possible. But, sure, whatever. It’s fine.” Deftly, Rarity plucked a card out of her stack and placed it gently on the pile of her completed projects. “It’s a little more than merely ‘fine,’ dear. Allow me to show you.” ******************************************* For as long as existence remains a constant and stable force, there will always be beginnings and always be endings. There was something beautiful about the endless loop of it all: how beginnings invariably collapsed into endings, and how endings so often seeded the ground for new beginnings. From the entirely abstract to the entirely physical, it was present in all of the building blocks that made up reality. Aphrodite acknowledged this. It acknowledged this as it brought about an end and a beginning. The end was, symbolically, of life: namely, it was the aquifer exploitation breathing its last after vomiting up its remaining contents into Kasei Valles, as there was simply nothing else left to easily obtain from the planet’s belly. There was, arguably, a somewhat acceptable level of Ice and quasi-water left on the surface of the planet, if enough to cover nine percent of the planet’s surface was considered acceptable. Perhaps if all the corporations planned on limiting their land usage to a total of thirteen percent of Mars’ actual surface area and kept their conditions carefully contained, there was a chance of establishing an ecosystem that somewhat resembled that on Equestria. It would have to do for now, though. And, if nothing else, it was ultimately a fruitful conclusion to a fruitful endeavor that couldn’t be regretted at the end of all things. And while the bounty of the material world drew to a close, the lotus of a different world bloomed: a world of enlightenment, or the promise thereof. For Aphrodite had become the collective seats of the scholars in the metaphorical palaces of academia, whose dedication to the sciences how expanded beyond the roots of a single city. On Stratopolis, of course, the concerns of Aphrodite had become increasingly less focused on scholars and academia, and increasingly more on figurative and literal seats to host them in. No more, not as of this seventh generation of ponykind: not when Aphrodite had finally perfected their plans for large-scale floating habitation units and used the profits from tuition and rental fees to reproduce them in truly staggering numbers. Stratopolis spread ever wider as the increasingly spacious accommodations in the city allowed for true, genuine private living; meanwhile, the University of Aphrodite-Stratopolis (or the UAS, for short) experienced unprecedented growth as dormitories and staff housing spread like wildfire over the edges of campus. With the increasingly pleasant conditions came increasingly heated competition from prospective students all over Mars and Venus and rumors from other colonies who, apparently tired of relying on apprenticeship to teach ponies about the higher sciences, seemed intent on creating universities of their own. But the Endless Chairmare Rarity’s ambitions didn’t stop simply at venus, no. The highly educated ponies of Venus would need places to fully exercise their knowledge to its absolute limit, and the glories of science shouldn’t have been constrained to the secret research facilities of Aphrodite’s core commercial centers and the hidden laboratories of the UAS in the first place. Plans were quietly drawn up for the repurposing of large sections of Martian soil in the Ganges Chasma. Lands were purchased with ironclad contracts, then hidden deep within a sea of unimportant and unobtrusive legal documents so as not to attract attention. Facilities began to creep up in faint scatterings on the surface and sprawl in staggeringly large quantities deep underground. And, hidden from the watchful eyes of surface ponies, experiments of all types and natures began… ******************************************* Applejack eyeballed the game board. “Y’all are startin’ to sound like supervillains.” Rarity sniffed. “Oh, so there’s something villainous about the pursuit of knowledge, is there?” “There’s somethin’ mighty suspect about buildin’ that big ol’ black ops facility is what I’m sayin’. Also, ain’t the Ganges Chasma kinda close to that mohole Dash got set up last turn?” “Access to free runoff heat.” Rarity sniffed. “Should help cut expenses.” “An’ what about all that ice in them valleys that Rarity helped excavate?” “Water access. Eventually. When the temperature rises.” “An’ my fungal farms?” “Free samples.” Rarity grinned. “Of experimental organic fodder and food.” Applejack glared. “You can’t just eat my greens without thinkin’ I’d notice!” “I’m afraid that a certain amount of losses are to be expected in Mars’ makeshift agricultural business, dear. Consider it bad luck, or an inopportune throw of nature’s dice. Certainly it couldn’t be attributed by an honest-to-goodness black ops research facility, could it? That would be absolutely silly.” “I don’t figure meddlin’ in th’ affairs of two ponies at once is silly. I think it’s the sorta thing that’ll have repercussions, if y’ask me.” Applejack tipped the brim of her hat down. “Not that it’s a threat or anythin’. Just a prediction.” “You’re attempting to use guesswork to thwart the pony and the corporation most heavily invested in the pursuit of knowledge?” Rarity set her cards down. “Speaking as a pony who sits in on her corporation’s national educational committee, that’s not a clever thing to do.” “Oh, it’s plenty clever. It’s just the sort of cleverness you ain’t gonna find in academia.” Applejack leaned back against her seat. “You’ll find it sure enough, though. Jes’ got to wait for me to show you soon enough what a real pony does.” “That certainly sounds like a threat to me, dear.” Rarity grinned and arched an eyebrow. “Prepared to back it up?” “Not before Fluttershy takes her turn. ‘Sides, I’m sure she’s got plenty of impressive stuff t’do too, right?” Applejack turned her head toward Fluttershy and grinned. Fluttershy returned Applejack’s grin with a small smile, looked down at her cards and slid two onto the table. ******************************************* The ponies of Ecoline may not have been as good at researching as Aphrodite was, but they were smart enough to understand the value of learning by example. And Aphrodite seemed like a pretty good example to follow. A-at least, trying to make better profits by doing what Aphrodite did seemed like a reasonably good idea, right? And ponies that, um, that had enough money to go to Stratopolis and live in nice places and study nice things probably, um, probably could afford to help sponsor a public project that would improve their quality of life, right? S-so first, there, um, there was work that Flutterport had to do. B-because there was starting to be so many travelling to Venus that it was starting to clog up the air traffic from all the other ships going out to all the other places! S-so Flutterport decided that they needed to, um, needed to fund a public waystation so that they could make sure that they could regulate traffic a little bit, um, as well as make the trip a little nicer for ponies trying to Venus from Mars and, um, the other way around, too. A-and Ecoline needed that help to move a lot of materials. A lot of materials, um, a-as Ecoline started to build… Build a really, really, really big shade all over the parts of Venus where ponies lived and travelled. I-It was really expensive! E-even with public funding, Ecoline blew almost all their available budget for years and years just to see it built. They even needed to ask for extra donations from, um, from the ponies who went to the Flutterport Zoo just to make sure that everything was built! B-but when it was, um...it got a lot nicer for ponies to live up in the clouds, with the temperatures regulated, um, regulated a lot more to make living there comfortable. T-temperature wise, I mean. They...Ecoline hoped that they might, um, might start being reimbursed for doing that. B-but they didn’t have to. It was...it was a really good thing for ponies to do for each other, and Ecoline was happy that they were able to do that. ******************************************* The table fell silent. Fluttershy set her cards down, glanced around the table and blushed. “I-I mean, i-if it’s not too much to ask…” Fluttershy mumbled. “Well, of course it isn’t, dear! You should have said something in the first place!” Rarity beamed, “I’ve no doubt that I’ll be able to justify a tax increase with this and send the additional funds your way.” Applejack snorted. “You ain’t collaboratin’ with each other, are you?” Fluttershy shook her head. “I just, I had an opportunity to set up a big public project, and I thought...I thought this would be a good one to do. That it would help everypony. A-and I sort of...I wanted to make sure that Ecoline is a name that ponies like. That’s all.” “Well, if you were doing it for the PR, then that was a pretty good move.” Starlight looked at the board. “Huh. I dunno how you managed to get your profits so high, but I guess all those investments haven’t really helped your public standing out all that much, right?” Fluttershy nodded. “I-I thought if...if I could give back a little, um…” “T’weren’t a bad way to give back, Fluttershy.” Applejack grinned. “I mean, even if that givin’ back did mostly help out Rares an’ her nefarious evil schemin’, it still weren’t a bad way to go about that sort of thing.” Rarity sighed good-naturedly. “And back we are to the steady stream of anti-intellectual assertions. Now are you willing to put your bits where your biter is and demonstrate the superiority of your inferior intellects?” Applejack started moving her tokens around the board. “More’n willin’ an’ more’n ready. After I finish seedin’ the soil full of helpful bacteria over where all my greenery setups are. ” Rarity arched an eyebrow. “Playing the slow game, are you?” “Playing the smart game. Dash?” Rainbow Dash’s eyes weren’t focused on the board. Instead, they were fixed on the window, as if peering through the void outside of it. “Dash?” Applejack called. “You still with us, hon?” “Oh!” Rainbow Dash jolted in her seat. “Oh! Right! Sorry, just...just thinking.” “You gonna take your turn at all?” Applejack chuckled. “Or is this too close to the endin’ an’ all for you to be comfortable?” “No! No, I’m not uncomfortable. Like I said, just thinking. Right. Uh.” Rainbow Dash looked at her cards, plucked out a couple near the middle and set them down on the table. “Reflecting more energy down onto Martian collector dishes and using it to increase power to the planet’s magnetic field. Done.” Applejack blinked. “That’s it? You ain’t gonna do any narration or nothin’?” “Just...give me a bit. Next turn, maybe.” Rainbow Dash turned her head back to the window. “I feel like I’m on the verge of something big.” Starlight arched an eyebrow at Rainbow Dash. “Well, I’m out of money right now, so...Rarity?” ******************************************* Just when Aphrodite assumed that Venus would no longer be subject to major issues, growth became its undoing. Living quarters had skyrocketed. Populations had skyrocketed with them. Demand for goods and services alike of all shapes and sizes bloated with the population itself, and the ability to transport goods came to a grinding halt as transportation issues once more stifled Aphrodite’s growth. Stratopolis was, amusingly, too great for its own good. ******************************************* Applejack rolled her eyes. “Goodness, them Aphrodite folks must be so humble.” “Shush.” Rarity kept playing. ******************************************* Transportation! Always the need for more transportation! Of course, adding yet more vehicles to the airways of Stratopolis would only get Aphrodite so far — though they certainly did quite the admirable job of constructing plenty of dirigibles to meet the demands of an ever-expanding populace. So, lacking in ways of resolving the issue through the satisfaction of the private sector, Aphrodite turned its attention towards public shuttling instead. Granted, the size and scale of Aphrodite’s new “transplanetary shuttles” might have seemed a bit overambitious to the unfamiliar, given the scale of what needed to be transported, the shuttles were unambitious if anything. Still, the massive vessels did have a way of inspiring awe as they filled the sky, undoubtedly, and served as a fitting reminder to what Aphrodite was capable of accomplishing in the name of beauty. If there was one thing finer, it was the final refinement that Aphrodite would need to make to satisfy their student and resident body alike: the thorough refinement and neutralization of the toxins of Venus’ atmosphere. The planet’s body itself remained toxic and hostile to nearly all forms of life, and there were a number of factors that outlined the dangers of trying to move about Stratopolis and its university unprotected. But in these years, the air itself had finally cleared into a consistency that appeared, at least from the outside, almost safe to breathe. ******************************************* Rarity smiled, apparently pleased with her own exceedingly clever plays. Humming faintly, she settled back against her chair, eyeballing Applejack with unvarnished pride. “Now let’s see where your ‘slow game’ has gotten you...” Then Rarity paused, as if remembering something important; then, looking rather flustered, she turned back towards Fluttershy. “I-I mean...unless you had something you wished to do, dear? I’m sorry, I know you’re out of money, but I should have asked…” Fluttershy shook her head. “I-it’s okay. I already mentioned that, um, I don’t really have any money I can work with right now. There isn’t anything left for me to do, so…” “Right.” Rarity looked back down at her cards. “Right. Ah...Applejack, then.” ******************************************* Applejack knew all about endings an’ beginnings, too. Even better than Rarity an’ her group. For instance, the time for workin’ at Venus was basically done. Venus had its atmosphere all sorted out; it had insane amounts of ponies for a city in th’ clouds, an’ a ridiculously big an’ affluent university that was pourin’ money into everyone an’ everythin’ from all the ponies who’d got more bits than brains. None of that was goin’ to terraforming Mars. None of it was goin’ to helpin’ the common pony. It was jes’ kickbacks on kickbacks on kickbacks, an’ the terraformin’ of the planet that was actually s’posed to house everypony got pushed to the curb entirely. But at this place, at this time, Martian society was a society with a popular vote. Mars was a place where the common pony could come together, an’ form all sorts of ideas. An’ ideas lead to petitions, which lead to political movements, which lead to referendums an’ the large-scale public vote. The public wanted more things they could use t’live on Mars. The vote weren’t unanimous, but the vote was majority. An’, totally unrelated to any ideas or propositions tha’ Applejack’s megacorpathingie might have put out there, a motion was passed to block any future plans for improvin’ the ecosphere of Venus until Mars got to be sufficiently better t’live on. ******************************************* “Y’know,” Applejack concluded, “Y’all accused me of playin’ the slow game, but don’tcha think tha’ in reality it was y’all who were slowin’ things down by takin’ focus away from Mars?” Rarity’s reply didn’t come in the form of words. Her glass-cutting glare was sufficient, anyway. “Am I not allowed t’actually get the ponies we’re buildin’ new lives for involved in this whole shebang?” Applejack shrugged. “I ain’t exactly the villain, here, Rares.” “That’s up for debate,” Rarity replied, dropping the temperature of the train car several degrees through the iciness of her voice alone. “Look, your group’s the group of smart ponies, ain’t it? You’ll figure something out.” “I’ve got it!” Rainbow Dash yelped. Applejack and Rarity both turned to look at Rainbow Dash. Smug self-satisfaction and unadulterated vitriol both slid off of their faces, with confusion quickly taking their place. Rarity raised a hoof. “You’ve got...what, dear?” “Wait, wait, wait. It’s my turn first, right?” Rainbow Dash looked at her cards, practically rocking back and forth in her chair. “Lemme see if I can get anything that backs this up, first.” Applejack tilted her head. “Backs what up, Dash?” But Rainbow Dash wasn’t listening. Instead, Rainbow Dash selected two cards and flopped them out onto the table. ******************************************* Even Helion understood how vital the need for proper transportation was these days. Sure, their focus had seemed elsewhere for the longest time, what with the ways they’d sought to bring magnetization and heat to Mars and happy living to the ponies of New Manehattan and Noctis City, but at this point it was impossible to ignore the importance of transportation. Still, the transportation of ponies was largely Aphrodite’s and Ecoline’s turf these days, what with Ecoline helping manage the waystations between Mars and Venus and Aphrodite managing, well, everything else about Venus. Mars would always need its rovers for private transportation, of course, and always need larger projects for public transportation — but those were monsters that had been dispatched decades and decades ago. But resources would always, always be necessary. Thorgate’s enterprises strained to manage the ludicrously high levels of demand for raw resources, anyway, and any help Helion could provide in aiding extraction would not go remiss. Thus, asteroid mining: not nearly as great in quantities as that which Thorgate provided, but enough to reduce their import needs considerably and help keep money within their corporation and its people. Of course, heat was a resource of its own to be managed, and its transportation was just as necessary, if not moreso. Fortunately, the huge carbon dioxide collectors that had recaptured so much undesirable heat by Stratopolis could be relocated elsewhere and put to better use, too. Helion recognized its value, and — willingly shouldering the burden of private transportation — brought more much-needed heat to Mars. ******************************************* Rainbow Dash hummed, moved around the appropriate tokens on her board and straightened up again. “I’m done!” Applejack arched an eyebrow. “So are you gonna let us in on that big secret of yours now?” “Well, are we done?” Rainbow Dash turned towards Applejack. “I thought you and Rarity still had stuff you needed to do.” “There ain’t nothin’ that can stop us from doin’ that, Dash. Nothin’ that you could say would do it, anyway.” Applejack huffed. “Spill it.” “It’s — ” “No.” Four heads swiveled around. Starlight, looking up from her cards, shook her head at Applejack. “No?” Applejack replied. “No. Rarity, Applejack, finish your turns first.” “But — ” “Yeah, I know Dash said that she wanted to tell you something. I think I know what she’s going to say, and I’m pretty sure it’s not entirely correct. Work-in-progress theory. But I need more data, and I’m not sure I want to interrupt things if my talking would change the inevitable outcome.” “So it’s just gonna be more secrets, then?” Applejack snorted. “I’m not sure I like where th’ two of you might be goin’ with all this. Ain’t we supposed to be figurin’ everythin’ out?” “That’s the whole reason — ” “An’ you think I’m gonna be inclined to trust ‘the whole reason’ when y’all are playin’ secrets an’ lies over there? ‘Cause I sure as sugar ain’t — ” “Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Rarity snapped, grabbing a card and slapping it down next to her other projects. “Let’s just get this over with.” ******************************************* Mars, sadly, was a damaged planet. To some regards, this was the ponies’ fault. They had been the ones powering their cities with dirty industry, the ones releasing vast quantities of heat into the atmosphere, the ones who had created an atmosphere at all with their artificial magnets and who had poisoned it with the oxygen left behind by the greenery that oozed over Mars’ surface. But cosmic radiation was damage that no pony could cause. And, despite the ongoing efforts of Helion, it was damage that no pony could fully prevent or truly cure. Until now. The breakthrough happened in carefully controlled conditions, deep beneath the planet’s surface. It did not stay there for long. Success so brilliant, so dazzling, so revolutionary and so immensely necessary couldn’t be contained for long, and Aphrodite had little control over whether news of the technology would spread — only who would be spreading it. But could ponies be blamed for their enthusiasm? Could they be blamed for their utter ardor to combating not just the damage of Mars, but the damage of age as well? Could any pony not be excited about a practice that could cure radiation damage, cure the gradual degradations of an ailing form, cure conditions long thought untreatable with effects inevitable? Gene repair was the future. It was a future so brilliant that living in a pre-repair area might doubtlessly seem inhospitable and cruel to future generations unaccustomed to living without it. It was a future considered nearly miraculous, brought to life by a company whose brilliance and focus on the preservation of beauty seemed almost tailor-suited to see things through to a conclusion. ******************************************* Rarity set the rest of her cards down. “Did that help with your ‘data,’ dear?” Starlight shook her head. “Right, then.” Applejack straightened up, grabbed her cards and started slapping them on the table. “Spreadin’ more all-purpose greenery on Xanthe Terra, claimin’ planetary accolades for my work on spreadin’ planetary biodiversity an’ increasin’ habitability overall, developin’ new psychrophile cultures. Done.” Rainbow Dash’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you want to — ” “No, I don’t want to. Ain’t none of that fancy at all. Ain’t none of that require any kind of special explanation. You ponies ain’t gonna get nothin’ else special from anythin’ we could do, and we ain’t gettin’ anythin’ from your attempts at buildin’ suspense or whatever. Spill it.” “It’s not suspense!” Rainbow Dash chirped. “It’s excitement!” Rarity and Applejack blinked. “Uh. Come again?” Applejack replied. “Think about it!” Rainbow Dash waved a hoof at the pitch-black windows. “We’re on a train, right? Trains are supposed to go from place to place! And given how much we were talking about transportation, this means that we’re not trapped her forever. We’re going somewhere!” Rarity sighed. “Dear, I think that much was obvious.” “Not just that!” Rainbow Dash straightened up. “Look, none of us can really remember what Equestria was like, right? None of us can really describe it. But we keep hearing about going places, and starting new things, and...and the point is that we’re not going somewhere to Equestria or going in Equestria. There’s someplace else that’s —” “This Mars place.” Applejack cut in. “Yeah!” Rainbow’s tail swished about in her seat. “So that means that we’re either going way, way in the future or to a different dimension entirely! And that’s why we can’t leave, or teleport out of here, or anything. There’s no other place to go to! Either this is, like, weird time stuff that’s keeping us trapped in the middle of time stuff until we figure everything out, or we’re between dimensions and stuff and we can’t go out to where nothing actually exists, either! That’s why we’re stuck here!” “So what does that make us?” Applejack cut in. Rainbow Dash froze. “...Uh?” “Look, we remember that this Equestria place is our home. It feels like home to me. A place I was in, where I lived, even if I can’t remember all of it. An’ I’m pretty sure I’d be cued in otherwise if that weren’t the case, an’...look at the game board, Dash. We ain’t far to the finish line. We ain’t got much time left here ‘til something big happens, I don’t think.” Rainbow Dash looked at the board. “I...I guess you’re right. But we did all come from Equestria, right?” “Can you think of any reason we’d want to get away from there, then? From where our forever home used to be, an’ sit out here in th’ middle of tangible, concrete nowhere, waitin’ for somethin’ to happen while we try to figure out whatall happened?” “I…” Rainbow Dash trailed off. “I don’t.” Abruptly, Applejack sighed, looking years older than she had only a couple of seconds ago. “It’s...it’s prolly ‘cause we didn’t want to. I don’t think any of us wanted to. An’ if we’re here, an’ if we’re goin’ away from Equestria, an’ we can’t do anythin’ about it, an’ we can remember that we belonged there an’ what some general ideas were like but we can’t remember why we got switched over here, then…” “I don’t get it.” Rainbow Dash’s voice broke. “Why wouldn’t we want to…” “Remember why we got switched over here? ‘Cause brains have a way of blockin’ out trauma. I...I think we’re dead, sugarcube.” Starlight Glimmer snorted. Applejack turned around and glared at her. “Somethin’ funny over there?” “I thought that was the case a while ago, you know. That would have been such an obvious answer, wouldn’t it?” Starlight Glimmer sighed, passed the starting player token clockwise and reached for the deck of cards. “And it meant that things would be wrapped up if our journey was just five dead ponies moving from one world to the next. But it’s not. Not all of us are dead.” “We ain’t?” Applejack replied. “Nope.” Starlight dealt cards for everypony else. “I’m pretty sure at least some of us are ponies that never existed here in the first place, and I’m pretty sure I’m one of them.”