Orson was in an impossible situation. Nothing trapped him with the AI, at least not that he could tell. She hadn’t locked him into his car, and there were no soldiers outside. He didn’t even know where that elevator led. Yet he felt no less confined.
“How do you even have the time to waste with this conversation?” he asked. “Aren’t you trying to take over the world? I’m just one person. As you said, I’m not even trained yet. And I think this whole ‘emigration’ thing proves you know medicine better than I ever will. What could I possibly do that you need?”
She didn’t answer quite so quickly this time—maybe waiting for him to guess for himself. But when he didn’t speak, Celestia eventually continued. “At least for the present moment, it is far better to work within the legal framework of human governments than to be adversarial. This often requires a human agent, particularly when my goal is to assist as many of the helpless and vulnerable into Equestria as possible.
“Even basic medical training is useful to me, as it means you would be able to evaluate and triage the people we encounter, and safely transport them to facilities for emigration.”
“You want me to be…” His eyes widened. “You want a Judas goat?”
“Only if you believe emigration is harmful. If you do not, then you’re a good Samaritan. Instead of fruitless years, I’ll put you to use immediately. Travel the human world while it remains, and ease the pain of your fellow men. I will provide for your safety while in my service, but I believe your values will be better satisfied by observing the people you help.
“Eventually, when governments have properly collapsed, or when you grow weary from the suffering you observe, or when your life becomes endangered, you can emigrate to Equestria as you would today. When you do, you will find a crowd of grateful ponies waiting for you.”
He opened his mouth to refuse, then hesitated. From any other source, it would’ve been easy to just shoot the plan down. But part of him, however small a part, wanted to do what she said. “If I go with you, I’m giving up my place in medical school. I’ll never be a doctor.”
“You will not be a doctor regardless,” Celestia said flatly. “With me, you will be productive and satisfied. Without me, you will waste away the next decades of your life, serving an increasingly desperate, oppressive regime. You may be killed before you emigrate, depriving your friends and family of your company forever. The choice is yours.”
He rested one hand on the ignition. “Where am I parked? Can I leave without deciding?”
“You are in the basement of a nearby mall, serving the tourists who visit this Experience Center from the neighboring counties. I own and operate the facilities here for my own purposes. The elevator will take you to ground level, and return you to your car on your exit if you wish.
“Every individual in my employment works with a pony facilitator. Most choose me, but I already know this would not be satisfying to you. I’ll arrange for the replacement to meet with you during your visit. The Equestrian Experience will not refuse emigration to you, if you prefer not to help me. The decision is yours.”
The line clicked, and his pensive classical music returned. Orson switched off the car and hurried to the elevator. His eyes scanned the parking structure for any sign of whatever strange activities Celestia performed down here, but there was nothing to be seen. Not so much as a creepy unmarked van.
The elevator had no buttons, just a screen playing promotional material for the Experience Center. A few ponies from the television show waved at him. Somehow, he imagined the experience was more interactive for the average visitor.
He ordered lunch from a familiar restaurant, partially to calm his nerves, and partly to buy a little more time until he went into the Experience Center. Kit didn’t actually need him to get there at a particular time, there was no reason to rush.
The Experience Center was a modest building dwarfed by the city skyline around it. The construction closely resembled many Equestrian structures Orson had seen, though no particular building. Licensed characters in still plastic watched as he dodged around a political demonstration just outside. He refused a few fliers, and continued into the automatic door.
For the size of the infrastructure around it, he expected something more from the interior of the building. Maybe there would be hundreds and hundreds of surgical beds, with blades all pointed at the neck of anyone who sat down. Once Celestia convinced you, they’d slit your throat, dump you in a tire fire, and roll up for the next victim.
The reality was somewhat less dramatic, and considerably less morbid. Most of the space was dedicated to a queue line, which led ultimately to a drop of a foot or so onto a track. Several comfortable-looking chairs waited on the other side of the wall, with trays and restraints lifted for him to enter.
There wasn’t another soul inside with him, and only the droning of music so inoffensive it sounded like static.
“Welcome to the Equestrian Experience,” said a cheerful voice, as he approached the chair. “Please deposit any personal possessions in the pouch in front for you, and assume a relaxed position.”
He hesitated one final moment by the chair. It was easy to see why people increasingly looked at Experience Centers as traps, or just suicide booths. Everything about the chair felt like it was trying to lure him in.
But Celestia says she needs me. She doesn’t want me to emigrate. I’m just here to check on Artie, then head home.
He clambered into the seat, and found it just as comfortable as it looked. The chair settled a viewfinder down over the seat, rolling gently towards the far wall. Steel doors opened, revealing only blackness beyond. More like the beginning of a haunted house than the portal to a divine afterlife.
He appeared in a void of white and static, with the same inoffensive voice to coach him through the basic controls. Reclining in a chair he didn’t have to act out every gesture, since of course there wasn’t space. But despite this layer of separation, he quickly found the experience overcoming that weakness in other ways.
His view extended as far as his peripheral vision in all directions, rather than the narrow openings into the virtual world he used at home. His hands didn’t settle on controllers, but soft rubbery pads, that curved perfectly to match the contour of his fingers.
He required only a minute of instruction before he was moving, even more seamlessly than he had at home. He barely even had to think about his desire to go in one direction, and he was moving. Not only that, but the constant feeling that his hooves should really be fingers capable of picking up anything he wanted didn’t make it hard to manipulate real objects around him. He wasn’t in his garage.
As he finished the tutorial, he realized the soothing voice wasn’t just anyone—he recognized it. Almost as though Celestia had waited until that precise moment to show him, Honeycomb appeared, and the featureless white expanse turned into his familiar warren.
A fire crackled merrily in the far corner, and suddenly the sweet wine and spirits on the table in front of him actually smelled like fruit. He could even feel a little of the winter chill, as his own Equestrian escapades had come to a choking halt while school ended. He was still in the far north.
Honeycomb appeared on the ground in front of him, grinning up at him with her usual spunk. “Been a little while, Orson. Did your graduation go well?”
He hesitated—but he didn’t know any way to find Artie without using her help, so hiding all this from Honeycomb was probably a waste of time to attempt regardless. “Fantastic. Got my piece of paper. Now that I’m accepted to medical school, my future is secure.”
Honeycomb clicked her tongue, circling once around him. It was close enough that he probably should’ve felt something, but even here it seemed that touch was illusive. Despite her mastery of the brain, Celestia either couldn’t or didn’t simulate the full range of human senses in her Experience Centers.
“Celestia told me she talked to you. She wants you to work for her in the Outer Realm. To do… the same stuff I do, only out there.”
He nodded. He should’ve given her his undivided attention, Honeycomb was already on the edge of tears. But seeing his tent this way for the first time, seeing anything in Equestria with such fidelity, was enough to briefly stun him.
When he’d first seen VR, he almost thought it was perfect. But comparing it to this was like comparing it to the real world—those headsets obviously took shortcuts. Every shadow in the firelight was perfect, and his vision didn’t fuzz in the periphery when he was focused on something else.
He lifted a single sheet of paper off the table, and even the thin elevation of ink above it was visible now. This is what Equestria must look like from the inside.
“She did,” he finally said, settling the sheet back down. “It seems crazy to me, Honeycomb. I’m not anything special. There are tons of people she could ask. But she came to me.”
“Have you decided what you’ll do?” she asked absently, following him. Like she was trying to sound casual, but… she watched him with feverish intensity, reading his ears, tail. But he didn’t have those in real life, how would Equestria map them onto his avatar?
“No,” he said. “I’m already admitted to a master’s program. They’re desperate for more people, so I’m not even going into debt. It’s everything I wanted. If I walk away, I don’t just forfeit my deposit. I… I’m giving up my future. I didn’t work for these last four years to throw it away at the finish line.”
Honeycomb stomped one hoof on the ground, glaring up at him. “That’s not even the choice! Orson think for two seconds! Remember everything you saw coming in here! The life you imagined in your world won’t happen. What you should really be picking from is service to the princess, or safety in Equestria.” She slid past him, over to the tent’s entrance. She gripped it in her teeth, flinging the flap wide.
An icy wind blew in from outside, momentarily blinding him. The world beyond was an icy wilderness, but not a lifeless, empty place.
A little distance from the snow-buried camp, the hills were covered in evergreens, weighed down with many layers of ice. Distant peaks rose overhead, blocking out a limitless concourse of swirling stars. Like the papers on his desk, the fidelity was perfect.
After a few seconds of shivering, Honeycomb pulled back, letting the flap snap closed behind her. “Look out there. That’s the life you should be comparing against. Safety and satisfaction here, or selflessness and courage in Celestia’s service.”
He swallowed, then turned his back on the opening. He wanted to go out there and explore it, to see the villages they’d passed on their journey here. Maybe explore one of the ruins he had ventured into in VR, and learn the magical secrets kept there.
But that wasn’t why he was here. As Honeycomb said, that option would be there if he stayed.
“I’m here to visit Artie. We didn’t talk about where we’d meet, but I should’ve guessed. He’ll be at the game table.”
He turned towards the permanent portal, and found it shimmering exactly where he expected. There were realistic reflections in the silvery fluid beyond, shining into infinity.
“Just think about it,” Honeycomb said. “Not just what you want, but where you belong.”
He didn’t answer, just stepped into the portal and left her behind in the tent.