//------------------------------// // 07 Response // Story: PONY Legacy // by RBDash47 //------------------------------// The elevator dinged as it reached the lowest level, deep below the simulated surface. Its doors slid open, letting dim light spill into a darkened passage. Dash eased her head out and peered around, but there was little to see. Rough black stone walls stretched away into the darkness. The lack of any light sources, save the inside of the elevator car, made it hard to see more than a few feet. Dash stepped out, and as soon as her hoof hit the floor of the corridor, lines of cool blue light flickered into existence at the base of the walls, reminding her of the castle corridors far above. The new illumination revealed the corridor was actually quite short, leading to a much larger room. The pegasus turned back in time to see Celestia touch her horn to the elevator’s control panel. There was a brief pop and the panel started smoking as the interior lighting guttered and dimmed. The alicorn gave Dash a wan smile. “That should slow down any pursuit. Here, help me with Spark.” “Right.” Dash moved forward, ducking down and nosing under Spark’s still form, then flipping her up onto her own back. Together, she and Celestia moved down the corridor and out into the open room. It was as harsh and rugged as the corridor, but in the center was a sleek train car, glossy black with large smoked-glass windows, resting on tracks that ran out to the left and disappeared into a dark tunnel. The train hummed to life as they approached, telltales lighting up and a door unsealing itself for their entry. Stepping inside, Dash found rows of benches, just like every other train she’d ever been on. She gently deposited Spark in the first row and turned toward the front of the cabin as the door hissed shut behind them. There was a console there with a smooth input panel, like the one in Celestia’s workshop, plus quite a few physical controls. She found a lever that seemed a likely candidate for the throttle and pushed it forward. Looking out the front windshield for a few moments, she decided she couldn’t detect any kind of forward motion and returned her attention to the console. The input panel flashed, and bright red text scrolled across it. WELCOME PLEASE INPUT PASSWORD Dash stared at the message for a moment before it came back to her. She awkwardly nosed the appropriate letters in the list that appeared below the message. F O R E V E R The letters blinked once, and then disappeared, replaced by a new message in green: THANK YOU PREPARE FOR DEPARTURE Hidden power thrummed and with no further warning the train smoothly accelerated forward, speeding out of the station. Dash stumbled a little but kept her footing. Out the windshield, silvery-blue tracks stretched away to infinity down the tunnel, lit only by the train’s headlights. She watched for a moment, then went to sit down. Celestia had collapsed onto the bench opposite Spark’s. Without her cloak, Dash thought she looked even weaker than when they’d first been reunited back in the mountain hideout. Her face was drawn and her body looked too thin beneath her white bodysuit, almost transparent somehow. The princess caught Dash’s eye with a wry look. “Hardly the princess you remember, am I?” “Oh, I, uh…” Dash hemmed and hawed for a moment, before settling on a murmured, “Not really.” “Well,” the alicorn yawned, “a thousand cycles without so much as a nap can have that effect.” Dash was dumbfounded. “Wait, really? You haven’t slept at all? That’s crazy.” No wonder Luna said she couldn’t enter her dreams. She hasn’t been having any. Celestia gave a tired—very tired, Dash realized—half-shrug. “It’s not possible to maintain the life-support spell without conscious effort. I had spent some time recently attempting to teach Spark the necessary technique, but we haven’t gotten far enough in her studies of the matter to risk it.” Dash frowned. “So a simulated pony can do real magic?” “Strictly speaking, she would be channeling my own magic. The System itself is powered by magical reserves I charged before entering, which she would be able to access.” Dash turned this over in her mind for a few moments before shrugging. “Sure, okay.” She turned her attention to Spark, still comatose on her bench, her shattered horn still charred and faintly smoking. “Is she going to be okay?” Celestia regarded her virtual student thoughtfully. “Yes, I think so. Bring me her disc, would you?” Dash went over and twisted Spark’s disc off her flank, bringing it back to Celestia’s bench and laying it in front of her. “What are you gonna do?” Celestia nudged the disc with a hoof and lights sprang into the air above it, swirling together to form a coherent display. It showed Spark’s body in outline, with her horn highlighted in angry red. “Well, there is your problem!” Celestia said cheerfully. “Just missing a horn!” Dash blinked. “Prin— Celestia, that’s…” The princess sighed. “Too dark? Of course; I’m sorry. Really, she’s going to be perfectly fine. Look.” She prodded a marking within the hovering display and the horn flashed to a blinking yellow, then she nosed at a different marking and the display disappeared. “Reattach the disc, please.” Dash settled in next to Spark on her bench and dutifully snapped the disc back into place on her flank. The injured unicorn’s sightless eyes flashed blue for an instant. Dash looked back to Celestia, who pointed to Spark’s shattered horn. Returning to Spark, Dash was startled to see the horn regrowing. If she squinted, she could almost make out tiny blocks of matter shimmering into place and fusing with the remnants of the original horn base. After a few moments, Spark looked like nothing had ever happened, and her eyelids slowly fell shut. About time. That sightless stare had been super creepy. “So, she’s okay now?” “Yes.” Celestia sighed. “Every program has a checkup routine built into it, which I can access and use to scan for and reset damaged code caused by injuries or other corruption. She will probably sleep for a time, but she will wake up on her own and be just fine.” “Huh. Wish I had one of those checkup routines,” Dash said, rubbing her shoulder and thinking back to the last time she’d sprained her wing. Being grounded for a week never got less annoying. “That would be useful, wouldn’t it!” Celestia agreed. “I expect the various medical professionals of Equestria might feel a touch put out to find themselves useless, though, don’t you? And there’s something to be said for the character built and lessons learned through injuries and healing, even if you yourself have never seemed to learn them.” She smiled at Dash. Dash started to blush, but the back of her mind interrupted and reminded her of something Celestia had said. “Wait, it can repair corruption? Like what happened to RBD?” “In theory, yes. But as you saw, I would need direct access to RBD’s disc; I suspect she wouldn’t allow it.” “Sure would make things easier,” Dash mused. “Agreed. However, at the moment, it is not RBD’s disc that concerns me, Dash,” Celestia said. “It’s yours.” Dash glanced back at her flank, where her identity disc rested as securely as ever. “My disc? Why?” Celestia looked pensive, even worried. “For a program, an identity disc is a sort of diagnostic tool. It gives me access to the checkup subroutine you have seen, among others, and it also serves as a repository for everything that program has learned and experienced. A backup, as it were, of their simulated life. This made it very useful during the System’s development and testing. If a program became damaged due to some flaw in my work, I could fix the flaw, repair the program, and restore its knowledge.” “Okay,” Dash said, “but we’re not programs. What do our discs do?” “I needed a quick way to authenticate users in and out of the System, and I already had identity discs, so I copied them and added the authentication routine. The other routines are still there, but most can’t function, as they’re designed to repair code, not flesh and blood…” Celestia trailed off at Dash’s blank stare. “Right. The most important part is this: Our identity discs act as our keys out of the System. Without our discs, we won’t be able to access the Gateway.” “Ooh, so, definitely don’t want to lose this baby,” Dash said, tapping her own disc with a hoof. Celestia’s worried look grew more pronounced. “Absolutely not. And, it being your key out of here notwithstanding, we absolutely do not want RBD to acquire it, because I think there’s an excellent chance she could exit the System in your place.” “She could what?!” Dash cried, leaping to her feet. “The authentication routines are extremely basic—they were intended for Luna and I, unique visitors, not ponies who already have program duplicates within the System! If RBD presented the Gateway with your disc, I am not confident it would reject her. I think it may instead download her into your body back in the real world, leaving you trapped in-System and nopony but us any the wiser.” Celestia looked exhausted and horrified at the prospect. Dash sputtered fitfully for a moment, too enraged and terrified to speak. “That—that is so not okay! That’s my life, she can’t have it! What about my friends, my family, my—my everything?!” “It would be devastating on a personal level,” Celestia agreed gravely, “to have one’s self so deeply maligned.” She paused. “Yet I fear the consequences for Equestria itself would be even more grievous.” “What could possibly be worse than losing my life?!” Celestia quirked a tired eyebrow. “Imagine an Element of Loyalty no longer loyal to her friends, but to herself. With the magic of your friendships shattered, Equestria would have no defense against its greatest horrors and enemies. What if Discord were to break free again?” Dash exhaled and slumped down on her bench, suddenly feeling drained. “Yeah, okay, that’s pretty bad.” She didn’t have it in her to mention how strained certain of those friendships had already become with Celestia gone. Instead, she glanced at her disc again. “So—RBD can’t get her hooves on this.” “Absolutely not.” Celestia nodded in agreement. “And that is why you must be more cautious! The consequences of your actions within the System may reach wider than they first appear, and your friends are not here to temper your, shall we say, usual enthusiasm for the challenges at hoof. We are alone, you and I, and must protect one another.” Dash gulped and nodded. “You’re right, Pri— Celestia. I’m sorry. I really thought I was being helpful.” Celestia smiled and leaned over to gently nuzzle the pegasus. “I know, Dash. In the end, you were lucky—this time. The three of us are on our way to the Portal, if a bit ahead of schedule, with no lasting damage done. Hopefully Twilight will quickly realize and rectify her mistake, and we can go home.” Dash looked over at Spark’s prone form. She could even see the repaired unicorn’s chest rising and falling now, as though in a deep sleep. “You think she’ll be awake soon?” “I’m sure she will be,” Celestia replied after a brief appraisal of her student. “And now, I must follow her lead and get some rest. Not sleep, of course, but my meditation can be nearly as refreshing, and it has been a very tiring day.” “Oh, sure. That was really something back there at the club, you raising the sun again.” As she arranged herself and let her eyes drift shut, Celestia smiled a deeply satisfied smile. “Yes,” she whispered. “Wasn’t it wonderful? Almost… like being home again…” And then she was still. Dash glanced around the quiet train at her two dormant companions and settled in to watch the tunnel flash by. RBD thudded in the center of The Elements’ dance floor. The club’s patrons fell back, pressing themselves against the walls and holding their breath as their ruler stalked past them. They didn’t even register to her; she went straight for her lieutenant. “Where are they?” RBD growled. Cracken remained as stoic as ever, but she turned her head towards the empty elevator alcove behind them. “They got away?!” her commander snarled. “That is so not okay!” RBD whirled and smashed the first thing she saw: a Black Guard. He gasped as her hoof punched through his chest, and then his body derezzed, falling in glittering pieces to the floor. RBD panted in rage; Cracken looked on impassively. “Aw, c’mon now, Arby!” came a cheerful voice. RBD ground her teeth, then looked up to find Diana’s face hanging upside-down in front of her. “Cheer up! Celestia, Spark, and Dashie were all here! Celestia hasn’t been out and about in forever, so that’s gotta be a good sign for you!” “I told you to not call me that,” barked RBD, making no impression whatsoever on Diana. “And it would be a better sign if she was here, so I could snap her horn like a twig. A thousand cycles of cat-and-mouse with nothing to show for it. I want her gone! No more questioning my authority.” She glared around the room at the various blue-suited programs. Behind her, Cracken nodded to her remaining Black Guards, who fanned out across the room. At the top of the stairs to Diana’s office, Jewel wore an uneasy expression. Diana blew a raspberry. “I’m surprised you even care about Celestia any more, silly filly! It’s all about Dashie and her disc now, isn’t it?” Above them, a panting pegasus dropped through the shattered ceiling’s framework and collapsed next to Cracken, who didn’t react at all. RBD glanced at Shy, then looked back to the bouncing club proprietress, narrowing her eyes. “What are you talking about?” “Well, duh! You and Dashie are so identical there’s no way the Gateway could tell you apart. If you get her disc, you could leave the System completely!” Diana grinned. “And then someprogram would have to take over for you in here, doncha think? And I was thinking, why not me? The parties I could throw…” She broke off to sigh in longing but immediately snapped back to bouncing up and down in excitement. “Wouldn’t it be great?!” RBD’s mouth was hanging open. For the first time in a very, very long time, she was speechless. If Diana was right… RBD had never even considered the possibility of leaving the System. All she’d ever dreamed of was securing control over this simulated Equestria. But a chance at the real thing? And more—whatever lay beyond Equestria’s borders in the real world didn’t exist here. The possibilities… “You’ve given me a lot to think about,” conceded RBD. Diana somehow began bouncing even faster, so elated she seemed ready to burst. “So you’ll do it?!” she squealed. “You’ll go out into the real world and I can take over in here?” There was no denying it—she was thrumming with excitement. “You’d better hurry! They’ve gotta be halfway to the Portal by now!” RBD turned and gave Shy a jab; the pegasus let out a meep. “Come on, Shy. Time to go.” She turned back to Diana. “Yeah, I think you’re onto something there, Pie, I really do.” With a great flap of her wings she was airborne, Shy struggling into the air with her. “There’s just one problem.” “Problem? I don’t see any problem!” chirped Diana, as RBD nodded to Cracken. “Everyprogram wins!” “The problem is, you didn’t keep them here when you had the chance. And you know, maybe even worse than that…” Cracken snapped a hoof against the floor. Each of her Guards touched a glowing telltale on the devices they had planted around the club before smoothly leaping into the air and diving out of the tower. “…you called me Arby. Again. I hate that.” RBD and Cracken swept into the sky, Shy trailing behind. Diana looked after them, her jolly expression replaced by a mask of confusion as Jewel ran up to her, sobbing, and everyprogram around them stampeded towards an elevator that wouldn’t come, screaming and whimpering in fear as the entire club dissolved into blazing white light. Above the explosion, RBD turned to Cracken. “Get me that disc.” Her lieutenant nodded and peeled off, guards falling into formation behind her as she arced south. “And Shy, I need you to—” She broke off and looked around. RBD could have sworn the pathetic pegasus was right behind her, but now Shy was nowhere to be found. “Well that’s just great.” After another glance around, she gave up with a frustrated growl and sped off towards her tower, muttering about unreliable programs. On the roof of a nearby building, Shy peered around a decorative crenellation. RBD was fading into the distance, and above her, The Elements was gone, replaced by a smoldering, sparking inferno. Tears filled her large eyes at the thought of so many programs derezzed for no reason at all—especially Jewel and Diana. Hadn’t they just wanted to help programs? Jewel, giving out advice and equipment to the gaming programs, and Diana, spreading her laughter? Shy had to admit, in recent cycles Diana seemed to spend more time laughing at programs than with programs, but even so, RBD had taken things too far. Diana had said the others had to be halfway to the Portal by now. Shy could only think of one way that was possible. With a last glance in RBD’s direction, she stepped off the roof and drifted down toward street level. The train thrummed down the tunnel so quickly Dash had to admit she wasn’t sure if she could have kept up with it, even in her prime. She was seated in the second row, behind Spark’s still-unconscious form. Celestia maintained her regenerative trance across the aisle, humming softly. An underground railroad didn’t offer much in the way of scenery, so Dash replayed her conversation with Celestia in her mind as she stared out the window at motion-blurred rock. If RBD could use her disc to steal her life… She’d be trapped in here. What would her friends do? Surely they’d figure it out, sooner or later. Twilight would go crazy—well, even crazier—trying to fix it. As if she hadn’t already thrown away so much time trying to save Celestia… Dash chewed on her lip for a moment, then ruffled her wings decisively. It didn’t matter. They weren’t going to let that happen. She wasn’t going to let that happen. RBD would not be getting her hooves on Dash’s disc. Her disk… She eyed it thoughtfully for a moment, then released it from her suit and laid it next to her on the bench to inspect it. Remembering Celestia accessing Spark’s status display, Dash poked the disc here and there until she found the nearly undetectable activation stud. The disc projected its display into the air. Instead of Spark’s body, it showed her own, largely in good health, though some red areas highlighted the various minor scrapes and bruises she’d picked up during her time in the System. Below the schematic of her body, graphs pulsed with information. One was labeled “RPM,” and appeared tied to her breathing rate; she watched for a moment as the graph rose and fell in time with her chest. Another was labeled “BPM” and kept up with her heartbeat. On a whim, she forced herself to pant, stopping with a grin when both rates increased. Dash looked back up to the floating diagram of her body and considered it briefly, then twisted around to pinch one of her wings. She winced at the twinge but delighted at the schematic instantly lighting that exact spot in pulsing red. Dash reached to shut it off, but her hoof brushed along the bottom of the floating display; her vital signs slid to the side and disappeared, replaced by blurry little pictures. She squinted at them and realized they were all images from her own life. She experimented with brushing her hoof against the display until she worked out how to navigate them, and idly browsed through her memories, smiling here and there as she recognized favorites and swiftly dismissing unpleasant ones. Eventually she started to run across memories she didn’t recognize right away, but she found she could tap them to expand the little pictures, filling the display and setting the memory in motion, playing out days long past as seen through her eyes at the time. A half-remembered sight caught her eye and she tapped that image next. She saw her friends amongst other ponies, all in the fanciest outfits Dash could ever remember wearing, seated at one of dozens of tables set out on the grounds at Sweet Apple Acres. Right, she thought. Applejack’s wedding. Much of the view was hazy. On the left, she was pretty sure she could make out AJ at the head table next door to her own, surrounded by her immediate family and her new husband. On the right, she saw the vague shape of her own date, whose identity escaped her at the moment. Probably a pegasus, she hazarded. Somepony from work? The image was clearest across the table from her: Twilight making polite conversation with the stallion that Rarity had dragged along. Rarity herself was seated on the other side of her date, staring at the head table while she worked her way through a bottle of wine. Her own date said something, and she replied, but the focus of the memory didn’t change. Dash felt faintly guilty that she couldn’t remember who her date was and that she apparently hadn’t given them the time of day. Across the table, Twilight laughed at something the stallion said. Bitterness welled up in her, as it did every time she let herself really think about Twilight. This had probably been the only time Twilight had emerged from library that week, and she was sitting on the opposite side of the table, as far away as she could be. They could have been sitting together. Talking. Laughing. Dash watched a moment longer, as AJ headed over in her white dress to visit with her friends and Rarity became intensely interested in her date’s conversation with Twilight, before swiping at the memory. It dissolved, returning to her health status display, pulsing gently in the darkness. Its chest was glowing faintly red, and she rubbed hers with a hoof, massaging the tightness there. Her eyes focused past her vital signs on Celestia’s nearly-slumbering form. Hmm. She carefully got up and crept over to Celestia’s side. Slowly and silently, she detached the princess’s disc and brought it back to her bench, setting it on the seat. She stood before it and nudged the activation stud. The disc threw its display into the air and Dash gasped as sullen scarlet light washed over her. Every indicator cried out for attention, flashing warnings and alerts. Celestia was even closer to the ragged edge of collapse than she’d thought. Leaning closer, Dash realized even the display itself was having trouble. The diagram of Celestia’s body wavered, sometimes dissolving into rolling particles of light before fuzzily reforming. Dash quickly shut off the display, gently locked the disc back onto Celestia’s side, and returned to her seat. She had left her own disc’s display running, and several of her graphs had spiked into the red: her heart was pounding in her chest, and she forced herself to slow her breathing as she deactivated her disc and reattached it to her suit. Celestia was the only one who could do the life support spell. If she couldn’t keep it going, Dash was dead. Her gut clenched and a chill ran down her spine. Dash shut her eyes for a moment, then opened them to look ahead, past her two damaged companions, to watch the tracks and tunnel roll by while she brought her breathing under control. We’ve gotta get out of here.  “Please hurry, Twilight,” she murmured to herself.