Sleep was not sleep. Celestia lay in her bed, not sure if she was awake or unconscious. Perhaps they were just dreams, the things she felt, or perhaps they were some manner of half-formed thoughts. Celestia could not recall having felt anything like it before, but then again, she could recall almost nothing of her own life.
They were almost sounds. Like distant voices, except utterly soundless. A sense of unseen and unseeable things moving somewhere beyond—or within—her body. She supposed that it was her sickness growing, spreading like a cancer though her mind and pulling pieces of it away—or perhaps it was something far more frightening. Something unknown, and something that best stayed that way. Something which would be horribly displeased if she were to look directly at it. Something that might become violent.
When she finally slept, she did not dream. Her mind continued to corrode in silent peace.
Then she was awake. The sun was beaming through the window. A perfect blue sky was outside, and the weather was otherwise perfectly suited for pony habitation—and the glowing sun illuminated the world without a cloud in the sky, save for perfectly manicured fluffy aesthetic ones.
Celestia paused, wondering why she was so annoyed—and realized she hated the light of the sun. It was jarring and unpleasant, an intense glare that hurt her eyes.
She was not alone. Luna was curled up at the foot of her bed, and the sight of her sleeping sister flushed all annoyance and fear from Celestia’s heart. There was no way she could have continued to be angry at that sight—and yet it filled her with sadness. How sad she would be when the time came—and how Luna probably did not even fully realize the extent of it yet. Or, perhaps worse, maybe she did know.
Celestia moved carefully, trying not to disturb her sister. Luna moved slightly, yawning, but she did not wake. Celestia passed her to a stand where Philomena was waiting, having arrived at Twilight’s castle only recently. Celestia stroked her bird for several minutes. The only pet that could possibly outlive her, and one of her most loyal friends.
Then, when she was ready, Celestia continued on her way. She no longer grew hungry, and all food tasted like paper. Even tea, and even cake. Especially cake.
When she opened the door, Starlight was walking past, carrying a stack of papers.
“Princess,” said Starlight, quietly, smiling slightly as she walked.
“Starlight.” Celestia closed the door carefully so as to not wake Luna. “Has Twilight returned yet?”
“She’s still busy, but she’ll be back soon. And I think she found something on her mission that might help you.”
“Really? What kind of thing?”
Starlight shrugged. “I’m not sure, but the Map always knows what’s best. Somehow. It’s a little freaky.”
“I suppose so...” Celestia looked down the long hall. “And Trixie?”
“Probably in her cart, or under it.” Starlight paused. “Hey,” she said, slowly. “I know you have a… ‘thing’...about Ponyville right now, but...” Starlight sighed. “I was thinking it might be helpful if we took a walk today. So I can get a better idea of what, exactly, you’re feeling.” She produced a clip board. “I made a list of things to check for. They're alphabetized.”
“A list? That seems like a more Twilight thing, Starlight.”
“Well, I'm certainly not Twilight, but I’ve been living with her for quite some time. And frankly I can’t trust Trixie with the lists, she choked on the last four. Also she can’t read.”
Celestia smiled. “Of course, Starlight, I would be glad to, especially if you think it would help. I think seeing the smiling faces of my subjects will help me get some much-needed perspective.”
Starlight smiled. “Just try not to vaporize any this time.”
“This time?” Celestia felt her pulse quicken.
“We’ll be leaving at ten sharp, after you eat breakfast.” Starlight produced a banana and gave it to Celestia. “Eat this. It’s made of fruit on the inside.”
“Starlight, I know what a banana is.”
“I don’t take chances with bananas,” said Starlight, trotting off with her papers. “Not after what happened to Trixie the last time I wasn’t perfectly clear.”
Celestia felt a shiver and found herself standing at Sweet Apple Acres.
“What did...how...” She shook her head. It was best not to ask.
There were trees. Trees that, on close inspection, did not really seem to have leaves. Only apples. Manifold numbers of endless apples.
A sound came from overhead. Celestia looked up, surprised to see a number of crows standing nearby, watching. They did not seem to be perturbing the apples, or even approaching, but they somehow made the orchard seem that much more ominous.
“How about a bite?” asked Starlight, gesturing toward the basket that Applejack was holding.
“They’re darn near the best apples I ever done did grew,” said Applejack, proudly. Celestia could not remember her approaching. She just seemed to appear.
Celestia frowned. “What’s wrong with your voice?”
“Ain’t nothin. Don’t know what you’re done talkin’ bout, Princess. Just apples. I really like apples. Have an apple? They’re made of apple.”
Celestia picked one up and bit into it. It was crunchy and filled her mouth with juice. Her brain told her that it tasted like an apple—but she tasted nothing at all.
“It’s...an apple?”
Applejack beamed. “Sure is!”
“Interesting,” said Starlight. “You don’t seem to be having the same response to Applejack as you did to Fluttershy.”
Celestia stared at Applejack. The effect was still essentially the same. The wide, dead eyes and the waxy skin—except it did not bother her all that much.
“It’s...not quite the same. I don’t know, I can’t describe it.” She paused. “It’s...like talking to an apple. And some how my brain thinks that's appropriate, I guess?”
Applejack suddenly burst into tears.
“Oh! No, Applejack, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“That’s the kindest thing anypony ever done did said to me!” cried Applejack. She hugged Celestia suddenly, an action which produced an audible squeak as well a crushing display of earth-pony strength.
“I love you, Princess! You can eat my apples whenever you needta! Day, night, or that other one we don't talk much about no more! Appletime lasts tweneh-six hours each and evereh day! Tweneh EIGHT on Sundahs!"
Starlight’s horn lit and she pulled Applejack free, allowing Celestia to gasp for breath. As Celestia recovered, Trixie fell out of a tree, landing firmly on her back and flailing silently, her eyes wide. Starlight groaned and summoned a fist of magic which she suddenly drove into Trixie’s stomach, causing the blue unicorn to spontaneously eject an apple from her windpipe. Trixie paused, stood up, and promptly coughed out six or seven more.
“Trixie, for Celestia’s sake, you have to CHEW them!”
“How is Trixie supposed to know how to eat?! Trixie did not go to school! And they do not have labels!”
“Ah just sort of suck on em,” admitted Applejack, who was still hovering in Starlight's magic although had apparently started to instinctively paddle. “And ah swear I done did see Mac snort one once. But that’a might’a just been me hloocinatin’ again, what with the chronic apple poisoning...”
Celestia’s eyes widened. “They’re...poisonous?”
“Well, yeah. Horses can’t eat just apples. Or baked goods. We’re supposed’ta eat grass or something...”
“Stop being practical!” snapped Starlight, teleportation Applejack elsewhere. She groaned and put her hoof on her head, only for Trixie to start flailing again. With another punch, the apples came back out.
“Trixie, I swear to Celestia’s BUTT that if you do that one more time, I’m not taking them back out!”
“Why would you swear to my butt?”
Starlight blushed. “It’s—um—a common idiom?”
“No it isn’t,” whispered Trixie.
“Trixie. SHUT. IT.”
“What? It’s a fine butt,” said Trixie, shrugging and reaching for another apple. Starlight knocked it out of her grasp and bubbled Trixie.
“Um...thank you?” Celestia found herself feeling exceedingly awkward.
“This was a mistake,” sighed Starlight. She looked up at Celestia. “Let’s keep going. Observing your interactions with ponies is useful for trying to diagnose the basis of your Capgras syndrome.”
“But...why is Applejack here?”
“She lives here.”
“But shouldn’t she...shouldn’t she be watching the kingdom?” Celestia paused. “And don’t you work at Twilight’s school? Which is...” Celestia looked around. “Which is...why haven’t I seen it?”
“Repairing you is more important. And it would be a LOT easier if I didn’t have to keep repairing Trixie—TRIXIE! HOW DID YOU EVEN—”
Starlight went about unclogging Trixie once again from inside the bubble, but Celestia just put her hoof to her head. She did not quite have a headache, but something else. Like a migraine without the pain. Confusion and unease, and something like a strange and creeping sickness. The glare of the sun and the strange, repetitive, identical trees did not make it easier. In the distance, she saw Big Mac kicking apples out of a tree, a process that should surely have resulted in the tree being far too injured to bear fruit—and he looked at her and smiled, waving from a distance with his big, empty, dead eyes. Celestia shivered.
“Yes,” she said. “Let’s move on. I’d really like to get this over with as soon as possible.”