By the time Gray had dropped Leviathan off back at the Pyre, Buried Lede had already left to find others associated with the Reploid to speak with. He returned in mid-afternoon to see if she was available and get the interview he wanted, stating that he'd spoken with enough outsiders and wanted to get straight to the source.
Leviathan had long since roused herself from her Standby state. She decided that if she was to come to terms with this world, she couldn't put it off anymore: she had to learn to read the local language, all the more to absorb what knowledge she could and hammer it out in a way that she could safely process without the use of overrides. When Lede found her, she and Drama Heart were comparing their respective alphabets using one of the latter's first screenplays. While the mess in the lobby hadn't been completely cleaned up, it was still greatly diminished from what it had been.
Gray returned to the Pyre at the same time Lede did, hiding her intention to learn more about Leviathan for Celestia's sake under the guise of simple curiosity. As a result he interviewed them both at the same time. Gray contributed her perspective of events, taking care to stay within her limits as a housewife and horror fan instead of delving into her past experience as a law enforcer.
Leviathan, on the other hand, did not hold back. She talked of everything: her creation from X's DNA ("Yes, Reploids can have DNA, moving on", she'd said in response to their incredulity), her original role in environment restoration and what that entailed, her conversion into a full combat Reploid and rechristening as one of Neo Arcadia's Four Guardians, the atrocities she and her 'siblings' committed in the name of a well-intentioned extremist, the ongoing conflict involving the Resistance, her rivalry with Zero ("No, Gray, it is not a murder-crush, now just drop it"), her goals now that she was in Equestria... everything was fair game. The information she provided was much more comprehensive than the basic outline she'd given to Gray, Drama, and Turkey the day before.
She allowed herself to be photographed without her coat, showing off the damage left by Omega as proof that she was everything she'd said she was. She'd summoned her Javelin and traced a caricature of a pony's face on the sidewalk, then did the same thing with one hand when it was pointed out that some would think her ice powers came strictly from her weapon. One of the photos Lede took of her as she showed off for the camera included Drama and her markedly unlit horn, providing some proof that a unicorn's magic was not at work here... though how many that would actually convince, he didn't know.
By the time both interviews concluded, it was right around dinnertime. Lede thanked them for their time, summoned a taxi carriage, and took off back to his office like his tail was on fire. Gray too left for home, already preparing her next report in her mind but holding off on writing it for now.
As Gray predicted, Manehattan went up in metaphorical flames the next day. The news of Leviathan's existence and her reasons for being in Equestria rapidly circulated throughout the city faster than any wind, and opinions varied depending on whether they'd crossed paths with her or not.
Ebony refused to touch the paper out of not wanting to see any photographs, so Gray gave her some of the highlights; she was worried, of course, but she at least was fully convinced that Leviathan wasn't deliberately out to scare her. The ponies who'd seen the machine save Drama's life from the lightning strike decided to give her the benefit of a doubt, for the most part. Turkey Bowl took the new information in stride, as did the bulk of the staff at the R.P. station and the Lonely Heart nightclub's regulars. Gilbert the griffon was suitably impressed, Leviathan's statement to him that it was a good story ringing true. Bossa Nova remained eager to test her might against a willing challenger, not caring for her origins. Charity Kindheart smiled and nodded as she saw somepony who wanted to change, and Butterscotch's mother was worried but hopeful for the entity who meant her child no harm.
But for many others, their emotions were at the opposite end of the spectrum. Mortar and Pestle hadn't forgotten their scare, and Leviathan's appearance remained too off-putting for them, never mind her past misdeeds. The Midnight Castle gang overheard some of the details from somepony who was a bit too chatty, and their reactions ranged from cold fury (Gates) to fear (Gargoyle). Alexandrite buried her face in a pillow and wept when she re-affirmed that things could have gone much worse for her. "What do you think of the alien?" became a big conversation starter, and many were too nervous to think of a silver lining. The atmosphere throughout the city became clouded with worry and trepidation.
Some of those with the Royal Police who didn't support the Reploid were contemplating finding some grounds or other for arrest, or discovering a way to get the Crown directly involved. Not that Celestia would have wanted to, had she known of their intentions; between Gray and the newspaper, she was already well-informed. In addition the neighsayers were a clear minority, with none in any real positions of power, and the higher-ups dismissed their worries outright: unless there was a blatant display of Leviathan's disregard for ponykind and/or Equestrian law, the machine would remain free. This didn't make them happy, but there was nothing they could do about it aside from sucking it up and doing their jobs appropriately.
The staff at the Minutes had done their job, for better and worse.
Leviathan spent her day reading the newspaper, solidifying what she'd learned of the local language in her mind while Drama Heart went about her business. She was more interested in the similarities between it and English than she was in what ponies thought of her, at least for now. All the while, her auto-repair continued to boost her power output closer and closer to 100%.
While half of the paper's 'A' section focused on her to some extent or another, it was the articles on the first few pages that proved the most eye-catching. The highlights include:
WE ARE NOT ALONE!
(Photo: The battle-weary Leviathan standing in the Pyre's lobby, coat momentarily discarded. Credit: Buried Lede. Caption: "The self-identified Siren General from the far-off city of Neo Arcadia.")
Sapient Robot Crash-Lands on City Rooftop
By: Buried Lede
Two afternoons ago through means unknown both to this reporter and the victim, a two-legged machine awoke far from home on a Bronclyn rooftop at Flower Row. In a span of twelve hours, the machine quickly left its mark on Manehattan.
"I was awoken by my daughter's scream, and I was worried for her," states Gray Ghost, 39. "When I flew over to investigate, I saw this bipedal doll-looking thing awkwardly clinging to the fire escape and wondering why it just had a can of bug spray thrown at its face."
According to Mrs. Ghost, the 'doll' was heavily damaged, permitting her to see its metallic insides. When she confronted it, she was surprised to discover that it was capable of pony speech and intelligent thought, and that it was unfamiliar with one of the facets of ponykind's existence. "It fell unconscious when I told it that my daughter was a magic-using unicorn. Who even does that?" Mrs. Ghost reported. "I just left it alone after that."
Shortly thereafter, a local remodeling business transported it to the Pyre of Fears horror theater at the opposite end of Bronclyn. "We were under the impression that it was somepony's failed art project or stage show prop," states Pestle, 24, one of the co-owners of Mortar & Son Co. "We delivered it to the Pyre to see if the theater's owner could use it somehow, and she agreed to look at it. I didn't expect it to come alive."
"It snapped awake the moment we removed the tarp," says Pyre owner Burning Salamandra, 31. "In my eagerness to investigate it, I ignored all of its protests and forced it to flee. I opted to call others to help me and pursued it down the street." (story continued on page A4)
Alien Vs. Pony
By: Hassleberry
(Photo: Hassleberry's face.)
Today I'm going to discuss the 'freaky robot from space' that some at the Minutes are calling it, but first I'd like to address the concerns of a Mrs. "G.G.". In my last column, I had the gall to suggest that dogs, as "loyal" as they are, are still much friendlier than cats, who would gladly sell out their mothers for catnip and a bag of kibble. In words not fit for print, she told me that her Mane Coon was smarter than my honor student, that her "Echo" was friendlier than most ponies she'd met, that it could dance the Charliehorseton, etc. I would like to make an addendum: not all cats sell out their mothers for catnip and kibble. Some of them prefer canned cat food instead.
Now, while I'm in the middle of writing a fascinating column about why the Everfree Forest would be a terrible place for a picnic, one of my co-workers rushes into the editorial department and declares that he has the story of the century. I was skeptical, seeing as how the last "story of the century" involved Princess Celestia demonstrating to her doubters that she did not have pegasi continuously flapping their wings in her presence. To answer my doubts, my co-worker presented an entire roll's worth of photographs of an escapee from the fashion district, plus one picture of a demented wig. I wasn't sure whether the escapee was modeling for the newspaper or a horror show, so it was clarified that it was actually a space alien robot from another universe I was looking at.
This is actually a good thing, and not just because a mannequin modeling for a newspaper would be seen as desperation and poor decision making in the job market. Having an alien robot voluntarily take up modeling in Equestria would satisfy the dreams and desires of every science fiction fanatic within eighty miles of Manehattan. If it had been a pony on top of that, it could have charged anypony who wanted to date it and become rich in no time. But alas it isn't; instead it's a skinny snout-less minotaur with swept-back horns, enough holes to make it a national park, heels that you could use for squashing tarantulas, and a walking refrigerator upgrade. I am not making this up.
Now, readers of my column might be leery of this statement in light of me saying it in regards to what they may view as fictitious information. However, I really am not making this up. One of the photographs showed the alien touching the sidewalk, and the next depicted the sidewalk with the frozen image of a pony's face. My co-worker did not tell me whether or not the alien was drinking ice water at the time.
This is huge news, so obviously you'd want to get on its good side real quick. While this was being written, we received a message from an alert reader claiming that the alien was sighted entering a grocery store and buying Heartbreakers candy. It is not clear why anypony or anything would want to eat Heartbreakers, given that each one contains enough sugar to cause a pony's jaw to disintegrate on the spot. Still, buying it some would probably make it view you as its friend for life, though you have to weigh this against the fact that the candy's manufacturer would see this as incentive to stay in business and crank out even more teeth-melting confectioneries. (Also, 'Teeth-Melting Confectioneries' would make a really good name for a rock band.)
But if it turns out that it means harm to Manehattan, there are means of countering it available. The Wonderbolts will put on an impromptu air show, and it will be so impressed by what it sees that it won't see the Royal Police hoof-cuffing it until it tries in vain to applaud. Princess Celestia will arrive by unnecessary chariot, smile serenely, wait for Mrs. G.G.'s cat to finish dancing the Charliehorseton on "Leviathan's" helmet, and have it taken to Canterlot for sentencing. As a result of the brave actions of Equestria's protectors, Leviathan would go modeling, "Echo" would get off scot-free on account of the lawyer it keeps on retainer, and I will get angry letters from her owner suggesting that I didn't clarify what I meant by "it" throughout this paragraph.
Note: if it turns out that Leviathan is in fact reading this, please don't spill ice water on me. I have candy.
Midnight Castles Captured
By: Honest Crow
The Manehattan Royal Police has confirmed that the Midnight Castle Gang, seven well-known thieves that have eluded authorities for a year, have finally been captured.
While on patrol in the vicinity of Burning Salamandra's Pyre of Fears two nights ago, several officers came across a strange somepony hauling a net containing the thieves in question. In an account that seems too good to be true, an extra-terrestrial robot that was staying at the Pyre overheard the thieves stealing from the theater and subsequently took it upon itself to stop them. Through means as yet unknown, the entire Gang was subdued with minor injuries at worst and handed over to the police. The report did not arrive in time at the Minutes to be printed in yesterday's edition.
(Photo: Police artist's sketch of ringleaders Bastion and Iron Gates, with Cutie Marks stenciled above. Credit: Manehattan Royal Police Department. Caption: "Official sketch of Midnight Castle leaders drawn at the start of their spree. Both ponies were on the Most Wanted list for illegal ownership of Royal Guard weaponry, among other crimes.")
According to a source that wished to remain anonymous, the robot made it clear that it had no interest in bounty hunting and only caught the thieves because they were stealing from its current home. (story continued on page A3)
By: Buried Lede and Marsh Mellow
(Photo: Leviathan's smiling face, the Frost Javelin's shaft held behind her. Credit: Buried Lede. Caption: "Equestria's first extra-terrestrial lifeform has a checkered history. Readers are encouraged to think carefully before making any judgement calls.")
Excerpts from an exclusive interview with the living robot known as Fairy Leviathan and local resident Gray Ghost, conducted yesterday at 3:10p.m. Foals should not read this transcript without parental supervision.
BL: You introduced yourself as a "Reploid". Can you provide some background?
FL: Certainly. A Reploid is a robot whose design is derived from the blueprints of our progenitor, 'X'. From what I know of his history, X was created by a well-meaning scientist with high hopes for him. This scientist gifted him with the ability to think, feel, and make all of his own decisions without being influenced by what some know as The Three Laws of Robotics. That isn't to say that he wasn't capable of following the Laws if he so chose, just that he was able to walk his own path through life. After his completion he laid dormant for a century before an archaeologist found him, woke him up, and used his limited understanding of X's schematics to jump-start the Reploid race. We've been a major player in our world scene ever since.
BL: So by 'limited understanding', you mean...
FL: Not everyone had as firm a grip on their morality and ethics as X did. Those who antagonized our creators' race were dubbed Mavericks, and a new organization---with X as one of its members---was put together to bring to heel anyone who resorted to chaos, violence, and murder. Much of that era of history is lost to the ages due to the warfare that ensued over the decades, so I'm not able to elaborate as much as I'd like, but that's the gist of our background.
GG: I'm getting the idea that you weren't always a warrior. What were you first built for?
FL: There was a catastrophe called the "Elf Wars" at some point that did a serious number on the world's population and damaged, if not outright destroyed, much of the environment. I was directly created from X's DNA to survive anywhere in the deep blue sea, to help restore the oceans to their original condition and allow what organic life that still remained to thrive. I was named "Leviathan" with that in mind. When I was converted into a proper combat Reploid years later, they didn't have to modify me for survivability too much: I was already capable of operating as far down as 11,000 meters below the ocean surface. Anypony who's studied water pressure can tell you why that's a big deal. (shrug) I also got to help operate a weather-control station for a time, which was nice.
BL: So you would describe yourself as amphibious, then?
FL: Dry land's not my environment of choice, but yes. I can survive above the water just as easily as below. Either way I like to think that I accomplished a fair bit in that line of work, despite it requiring time for the changes to be evident to everyone.
BL: Your role's obviously changed as time went on. What led to this conversion you mentioned?
FL: X wasn't around long after I and my 'siblings' were activated. He seemed rather tired and sad, on the verge of giving up. He stuck around just long enough to introduce himself and tell us what he wanted us to do before disappearing. A number of years later he showed up again, albeit with a slightly different appearance, and re-assumed control of the city. There was an upsurge in Maverick activity not too long after. So to protect the city he'd founded, he had our combat abilities enhanced. I became Fairy Leviathan, the Siren General of Neo Arcadia's Deep Sea Squadron, and one of Master X's Four Guardians. Environmental restoration took a backseat to safeguarding our creators and all Reploids who followed the laws. I was able to fight before, but this was where I began to reach my full potential.
GG: I'm not sure how long it was between the advent of Reploids and now, but it looks like this 'X' was alive a long time. What's the life span of a Reploid? Do you know?
FL: Theoretically, we're capable of living for centuries provided that we keep our bodies, internal hardware, and minds in good repair. Sadly I can only think of... three at the most that have managed more than a hundred years: X himself, his friend Zero, and a former soldier and baker who is currently in the Resistance. The world they were raised in was just too violent.
BL: Not to step out of line here, but if there's a Resistance, that would mean there was something wrong with how your city was run.
FL: You're not wrong. It's only within the past few days that I realized that the 'X' who had us turned into Guardians was a copy, a fake. There was an energy crisis taking place during our tenure, and his idea of dealing with it involved forcibly "retiring" those he and his judges deemed to be Mavericks. I'm sure you can hear the quotes around that word.
BL: And you just went along with it?
FL: Yes. 'Copy X', as I'll call him, sounded enough like the real deal to convince us that it was X. The majority of the populace loved him for everything X had done throughout his life, so they too went along with it. When he started giving orders that went against what we knew our 'father' had stood for, we just assumed that the stress of trying to keep the city together was getting to him, so we didn't question it. Not counting those who attacked Neo Arcadia directly, I'm responsible for the deaths of no less than 230 Reploids, whether it was by my own hands or by those under my command. The only reason it isn't higher is because the Deep Sea Squadron is typically an amphibious squadron: we gravitate towards water, the extreme cold, or both, and most of our enemies aren't keen on making themselves floating targets.
GG: 230 lives, each one without an epilogue to their story... why are you openly admitting this when it would make more sense to keep quiet?
FL: Because Manehattan needs to know. Yes, it would probably be better if they believed that the alien robot in their midst was a morally upstanding individual who wouldn't hurt a fly if she didn't need to, but that would be a lie. I'm not going to sugarcoat what I've done: I've murdered innocents in the name of a tyrant, and it took the arrival of an even worse tyrant and a meeting with the real X while I was comatose to make me realize that. There's no excusing it. The citizens of this city... no, those of Equestria need to know exactly who I am, what I've done, and what I'm capable of. Otherwise, they aren't going to have the complete picture.
BL: Now that's a statement I can agree with. This 'Resistance' you're talking about, then...
FL: Not everyone was blind to Copy X's tyranny. There was a certain child genius... she's a few years older than Gray's daughter now, I think. She could tell that what he was doing was wrong, and despite having no fighting ability herself, her heart wouldn't let her stand idly by and do nothing. There was at least one other Resistance cell already, but her's became the most well-known because it was the only one led by one of our own creators. As such, Copy X made it clear that while any Reploids with the Resistance had to die, Dr. Ciel was to be captured alive and unharmed. (spells out 'Ciel')
GG: I can hear the admiration in your voice. Was she somepony you knew?
FL: Only by reputation. Everything the Resistance did in her name wasn't just for their own survival. It was to give her time to solve the energy crisis herself, and when I arrived here she'd made significant progress. I can safely say her heart was in the right place. To this end, when they really began getting pushed towards annihilation, they willingly gave up their lives to help her restore the one Reploid that could make a difference on the battlefield. This is where X's friend Zero enters the picture.
GG: Your face is turning red.
FL: Zero is... a force of nature. Because of him, every operation we launched against the Resistance ended in failure. He fought each of us Guardians twice, killed our stealth expert the second time, and successfully destroyed Copy X. He disappeared for a year fighting our armies, then took us on again when he returned. The last time I fought him my mind was being influenced by someone, and... I may have admitted that Zero became my only real reason for living.
GG: Oh, I get it! He's your---
FL:---ahem. Mr. Lede, all of this damage you're seeing on me right now isn't due to Zero, but because of that 'worse tyrant' I mentioned earlier. I and my 'siblings' were investigating a crashed ship recently, and two of us had the misfortune of 'greeting' the tyrant's gargantuan attack dog, Omega. Nothing we threw at him could faze him, and my attempt at attacking a perceived weak point only got me slammed through several walls. If Zero hadn't turned up to engage him, I'd be dead now. As things stand we were forced to retreat, and I fell unconscious as soon as we returned to base.
BL: And no one thought to fix you?
FL: They didn't care. The way I understand it, the tyrant had already stepped in and began cementing his rule over Neo Arcadia. As such, my 'brother' and I were left to rot in some room or another without repairs. Eventually we were woken up by the real X, as stated earlier, and he ordered us to support Zero against Omega. We reached their battleground in time to provide said support, and Omega was destroyed shortly thereafter. That leads me to why I'm in Equestria.
BL: How so?
FL: My 'siblings' and I did something incredibly stupid. Reploids can explode violently if they're subjected to too much damage, and Omega was no exception. When we noticed that his power generators were going critical from Zero's final strike, the three of us charged ahead to shield Zero from the explosion. There was this searing pain like every inch of me inside and out was being burned simultaneously, and my vision turned white... and when I was next able to open my eyes, I was on a Manehattan rooftop. Everything that's happened since you've probably ascertained from prior interviews. I don't know why I'm alive, just that I am. By all accounts, I should be smoldering wreckage right now.
BL: That is quite the story, to say the least. Do you expect that the other Guardians will show up, too?
FL: Thinking about it... no. Our built-in communications systems are fairly powerful. I think if Fefnir and Harpuia... (spells them out) ...were here with me somewhere, they would have tried to get in contact with me by now. No, they're not around, and I strongly suspect that I'm the only one of us Four left in existence.
BL: As a complete outsider to Equestria, what are your impressions of Manehattan?
FL: How to put it... I admit that this city is beautiful. For sure it has its problems; those thieves are proof of that. But everything I've seen tells me that it's not in the same condition as the world that I just left. There are no real crises or major issues dividing your race. What little I've seen of the surrounding environment tells me it's pleasant, and I've been told that your ruler is honest-to-goodness benevolent... Had it been any other circumstance, I wouldn't have minded settling down here. Sure, the technology level is at least three hundred years behind what I'm used to, but that's strictly a personal gripe.
GG: It took three hundred years for your creators to develop automatic doors?
FL: You're never going to let me live my accident down, I can tell.
BL: So I'm assuming your ultimate goal is to go home?
FL: If possible. As nice as this city is, it's no place for me. I'm a Guardian, Mr. Lede. A warrior. Someone who, crimes against her own race notwithstanding, is meant to protect. My place is back in Neo Arcadia: Omega's destruction wouldn't have been enough to break that tyrant's grip, and I feel that Zero will need all the help he can get. Lastly, Manehattan deserves better than to have someone like me around. I just got done admitting that I was a killer a few minutes ago, and you can't tell me that everypony here's going to be comfortable with my presence. If they don't want me here, I'm not going to force them to put up with me. As soon as my auto-repair's restored me to full functionality---
GG: ---and as soon as you've finished that arm wrestling match with that minotaur...
FL: (grin) Wouldn't miss that for the world. But anyway, as soon as those are done, I'm making getting home my highest priority. It might be impossible, but there's no way to know for sure unless I exhaust every possibility. Any other questions, Mr. Lede?
BL: Just a few concerning your combat capabilities. If you're coming clean to Equestria, we may as well talk a little about those too. What's that fancy spear of yours?
(Photo: Leviathan's weapon of choice propped against the Pyre's exterior. Credit: Buried Lede.)
FL: Well, it's been called a lot of things. A harpoon, a spear, a halberd, I've even had some mistake it for a bisento or glaive. Officially it's called the Frost Javelin. It's about a hundred-plus years old from what I've been told, so I have to assume it was meant for someone else and just never saw any action. When I began my assignment as an environmentalist it was given to me to help me defend myself from the odd Maverick or malfunctioning mech, and when I became an official Guardian I re-worked the weapon to handle the full extent of my ice manipulation. It's seen a lot of action, but it's withstood the test of time. Definitely my most treasured possession.
BL: Ice manipulation?
FL: I can offer a demonstration if you'd like, just not in here. Salamandra's going to throw a fit if I accidentally damage the carpet, and I don't want her hugging me again. If I may take us outside?
BL: Certainly.
GG: This should be good.
...! Wait, did they actually...?
I was too preoccupied with making sure my translation of the local language was correct to realize it at first, but flipping back through the pages... yes, they really did print my face-first encounter with that door.
...
Drama pokes her head out the door of her office a moment later. "If you're going to muffle your screams, might I suggest a pillow?"
I lower the newspaper from my face, eyes half-closed. "Noted."