//------------------------------// // Chapter 17: Reality // Story: The Trinity of Moons: Mending Shards // by Cloud Ring //------------------------------// Solid Line's cutie mark ∿∿∿ Solid Line waited for the grayish white pegasus to wake up. Her stomach was empty, her mouth was dry, and the ultraviolet of the Black Moon hardly replenished her strength. However, Solid only retained the title of a Black Moon’s Herald due to it being irrevocable, so there was nothing surprising in the latter fact. Signal, who was lying by her side, lifted her head and pointed at the door with her paw. Solid Line already knew what was beyond it. A city; inside, a tower in a carefully crafted void. The tower was ready to return to the everside, waiting only for the number of active units to reach zero. That meant, those who did not sleep in their little universes. Three, the terminal said, as it was perceived by Solid Line’s mind once she did the necessary input and read the lines on the screen. That was but a sliver of full power though, Solid Line lamented: had she been a decent Herald in this aspect, she would not always be in need of actual typing or voicing; and the good ones were beyond even that. Three? Just to be sure, she looked into the matter relating to the cat. Reimplants were a subcategory of flawed souls, of course. And yet one would expect them to be reclassified as proper users by way of a special rule in the classification system. But there was no such rule — and that meant there was one more active soul in a soul vault, beyond herself and the white pegasus.  Even among the erased programs, she found no mention of food — and her living body demanded attention to its needs. The water, slightly salty, a smeared trace of another, rejected project, stood nearby in a glass jug. Had that project been chosen as the primary one, this soul vault would look totally different now. Solid doubted the word. She picked up another, tasted it. Perhaps not "rejected" but "unfinished". Although, that one would be wrong too. To convey the meaning and feeling, she would need to write it in the imaging language of Black Moon’s Heralds. She thought up a sigil depicted in four strokes, two incisions and one piercing, a repeating function on a time arrow; it moved, infinitely repeating itself, unless the observer was trained to see it as the sigil.  Simplified, it was 'a double arrow of fading hope for the future hooked by current priorities' or, in other words, 'the probability of later completion; its practical value does not exactly equal zero.' The sigil wanted to know if it would be recorded or not. She wondered if she might pull the feather from the sleeping pegasus to practice, and decided not to. The sigil turned inside out, offended, and left. Only after that Solid Line recalled a relatively fitting word from the civilian language — backburner — and felt seriously embarrassed because of that. Time passed; background processes of Solid Line's psyche brought forth a digital clock with a countdown of beats to the left side of her field of vision. The first two registers displayed nonsense, vaguely similar to the numbers reflected in the mirror. The rest were fine. Hunger was obdurate in its reminders. There was still no food in the foreseeable spacetime. When the six right-side registers converged to zero, Solid searched for an acceptable consensus of priorities and ethics, sighed and slowly rolled the pegasus onto her back with ponykinesis. The sleeper jerked her hind legs and woke up. The most surprising thing was the eyes. Not a drop of sleepy haze, a clear deep blue, vaguely like ice in the sample storage compartment of armoured tanker V-30. Solid Line shook her head. That universe was not the best ever lived, but the most interesting, and the most unfinished. She never found out if the epidemic was averted. That was one of a scarce few where she had other ponies simulated in it, too. Solid Line had a clear preference to interfacing with computers. "So you are Solid Line?" the pegasus asked in a sing-song voice. Solid Line wanted to listen to this voice. To decompose it into harmonics, optimize with minimal losses, record her favorite songs by the resulting model, and just keep listening. She slowly exhaled and nodded. Then she replied aloud, and in comparison, the voice was hoarse, rattling like a rusty metal sheet on the roof, from which foals roll into the snow, "Yes, it's me. And who are you? Friend, or knowledge? I was summoned for either one or both…" She closed her eyes and waited for another fall into a snowdrift. That is, when in the same voice, trying not to upset her, the summoner will say that the summon is performed  by mistake, and another, real Herald is needed, who does not doubt, who wields their power... in general, a Herald, not... almost-Changed. "Both of them," the reply was. Solid Line blinked, reproduced what she had heard three more times, the second and third times not on purpose, and quickly nodded, “Good. What is the essence of your knowledge? Or what would you like to do to optimally start a friendship defined by your values?" "Well, for starters, you slept for a long time…"  Solid Line interrupted her as soon as she reached into the background processes to see exactly how long, "I know, I know! Maybe something else?" She really tried to say it with cheer and haste, for she did not want to double-dip in the sadness of so many rounds lost. "So you don't want to know how the world has changed?" the white pony was surprised, perhaps. Two beats later, Solid Line crossed out perhaps; the analysis of the voice confirmed the suspicion with reasonable confidence of 78%. The past-Solid had been somewhat okay in recognizing those cues; the present-Solid really needed integrated assistance. "This much I already know! What do you like most when you select food for yourself?" exclaimed Solid Line. The pegasus blinked and slowly backed away from Solid; a step, then a second, then a third. Maybe I said something wrong... "What has happened?" Solid could not say it aloud. More precisely, she could, but very, very quietly. "Can I try another question?" This one turned out aloud, almost. She was heard. "Of course. We’ve been looking for you for almost a luster. So, of course, everything you ask and say is very important to us. Don't be shy," the pegasus said, and Solid did not get the data from the tone, but based on the words alone she supposed… was afraid that… she is a burden for the guest. "Are you my friend? What's your preferred alias if not the name in the system? Can these questions be reversed? May we skip this one at all? That is, these two. I mean—" Solid Line halted the speech process; she could not look at the pegasus either. This conversation just did not work as it should. And this 'not works as it should' was a characteristic feature of some Black Moon's Heralds — poor quality ones, let's be honest, she thought, reading the Facts Related to the World Outside — as well as all of Her Changed. No matter how true this fact was, and no matter how relevant it was to Solid Line right now, it did not help her at all. Absolutely. She had not chosen that specific combination of aspects that would be turning this weakness into strength. The very existence of such a combination was dubious at best. At least Signal was there — as always, as in all past universes. Just like she was there when Solid Line agreed to become... a little smaller and weaker than she was. It is necessary, Black Moon said then. It is a step in a plan that you have offered and I have agreed to, just reinforced and corrected by me. It still is your plan at the core. I understand that you may be afraid, but that is how you will make the Red miss your importance. It will believe that it has you broken. She said, and explained, and past-Solid understood and agreed with these corrections; also past-Solid knew that present-Solid would not be able to grasp the plan, and would have to believe and trust her. Solid Line did just so; she trusted those who knew more. Here the train of her thought made a stop, as she was offered a glass of pure water, a hug, a few crackers, a field ration and a chocolate. It took a while to consider the options and then to clarify between the two of them that all of it were would-be-gifts without any expectations or payments but she agreed in full, changing just water to coffee while being at it. The pegasus then left for Metropolis to buy the items, and Solid Line went out of the soul vault too.  She stood at the railings, looking around. At first glance the Net was impressive, the traffic downright scary and the overall level of lighting was over the top by her tastes. Cornsilk field of her ambient magic was, to her quiet joy, still there, all around the world, so she practiced the less difficult patterns a bit, making sure that she was not defenseless and somewhat mobile in the new world. She had spoken with Signal, too, and the cat confirmed that nothing malicious is lurking around, and even the everside is mostly empty, except for a few lost spirits. Even sub-radiation of the Red was subsided to near-zero level. She replayed the talk at a lower speed, and made a few notes, blushing. Then Cursory Streak returned with food and drinks for both, and after the hug of deliverance she asked, "First I'd like to get my companion, Gentle Touch, on board. She is lost in that… giant room of yours. She said that she will be waiting and I saw not a hair of her tail. Gentle Touch was not among the sleepers, either,” Cursory Streak made a stop here, considering, then continued, “But what do you want to do? It's my task, not yours." "How many ponies are in your team now?" Solid Line asked. The reply would be defining which branch of past-Solid's plan is in action. She still was unable to get all the details, but key turning points were another story. "Two. Three, if you would agree to come with us" "What is the quest of your team?" "To look for a few missing ponies. You are the first of them, by the way." Solid Line missed a breath. That's it. The other souls are looking for me! "Is Green Moon among them too, by chance?" Solid Line attempted at a joke. It was also a password, a valid reply to which would indicate that certain unlikely events have come to pass. It was a hidden password, too. Because in a common sense ‘look for Green Moon’ was a polite way to say that somepony becomes really obsessed with something; in a scientific sense it was a problem that was just too simple at first glance… and which kept avoiding the solution for many generations. Green Moon was possible, in theory. There were events that might be attributed to it. But… just in theory. She was either too small, or too distant, or — which was most likely — simply non-existent. Solid Line hurried to close the imaginary book of Facts Related to the World Outside; she did it almost in time, without a pause in a conversation too big and too awkward; they both giggled. "No, this quest is much less fringe, seriously," Cursory Streak laughed, and Solid Line noted the sound was pleasant. Too pleasant, in fact. Also, the password was perceived as a mere joke. The reply was invalid. That meant that Cursory was still ignorant of the plan. "Who is the reporter of the issue?" Solid Line asked to be completely sure. "Black Moon, in person… wait! You use our terms!" "I am the one who developed them, and I was a part of the team who made the system. Well, my past-self had. Long story." Cursory Streak smiled, "Maybe not flashy but impressive. That system helps. Thanks." "Not for me. For my past-self. Different ponies." Solid Line thought, from the long pause, that something’s going on. She was unable to read the face. "Sorry," Cursory Streak prompted after a few beats. "No offence," Solid Line selected a hopefully approptiate reply. "So, what will you do?" the pegasus asked. "I will wait while you look for your companion. Unless there was a request for help that I missed? It's hard for me to read between the lines." "There was not. But…" she sighed "...now there is. Please help me find Gentle Touch in that room of your rest." "Okay," Solid Line agreed, glad to somehow make it through the conversation without a disaster. “May I ask, though? Please don’t be offended, but… you mean, you are unwell now? Something wrong in your head? And can it be corrected? I mean, can I help? In theory, if the help is needed, of course,” having finished this series of questions, Cursory Streak blushed, and that, too, was a sight to behold. Solid Line arranged all questions in a queue, looked for the answers and saw that they stack nicely. “Yes to all,” Solid Line said.