//------------------------------// // Chapter One // Story: The Architect's Wings // by mushroompone //------------------------------// The color of the twin suns shining off the river of metal below was making Rarity rethink everything. She stared nervously out the window of the train, absent-mindedly twirling her mane with her magic, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. Beneath her, the city rushed by, a fluid thing made of metal and glass—only things which shimmered, things which fractured and twisted the light until it bounced back purple, pink, and orange. Colors so bright that Rarity thought she may have to shield her eyes. But she couldn’t possibly. “You’re sure it’s not too old-fashioned?” she murmured. “It’s not… not as shiny as the city, is it?” Rainbow snorted, a sound abrasive enough to draw her away from the captivating view just before it vanished behind the walls of a tunnel. “No, you’re totally right,” she said, fighting a smirk. “Too old-fashioned. You can redo your whole proposal before we get there, right? On a moving train?” Rarity clenched her jaw. “Oh, nevermind,” she spat, drawing her portfolio in closer. “Pft. Don’t listen to her,” Pinkie said. She gave Rarity a comforting nudge on the shoulder. “She just doesn’t wanna think about her exam later.” “It’s just a technical exam!” Rainbow argued. “I-I can compress an ozone layer in my sleep!” Pinkie rolled her eyes and returned her focus to Rarity. “I think it’s super pretty, Rarity! You always make the prettiest, coolest stuff.” Rarity blushed. “Thank you, Pinkie. That means a lot.” The girls were quiet once again, without even the rhythmic sound of train tracks to interrupt their thoughts. All there was to hear was a quiet and constant rushing, like a waterfall tumbling by on the other side of the tunnel. “But… well, I still haven’t decided between the vacation planet and the diamond planet,” Rarity said, reaching for her portfolio. Her magic quickly undid the top snap on the plastic carrying case. “I was going to wait until I got there, sort of feel out the audience and choose in the moment, but—” “But the vacation planet is so, so cool!” Pinkie squealed. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve wished I could stop time to throw a really great party? Like, a billion! And you just scienced your way to the dream!” “The planet just slows time down, Pinkie. And o-only theoretically,” Rarity was quick to correct. “Under ideal conditions. I’ve no idea how well the idea might play out in reality.” “Yeah, see? It’s super cool, but it’s also bonkers,” Rainbow commented , her attention fixed to the device on her foreleg. “She’s gonna get a ton of hard questions on that one. I dunno much about these things, but I know you don't want a ton of questions.” Pinkie shrugged. “I mean… I kinda thought that was Rarity’s thing!” she said. “Coming up with bonkers stuff, but totally pulling it off!” Rarity frowned. “Um… thank you?” “I’m serious!” Pinkie insisted, giving Rarity a much stronger shove to the shoulder. “She’s kinda right,” Rainbow admitted, sparing a glance up from her endless emails. “As far as taking risks, you could even give me a run for my money. I still remember that space station you designed—y’know, the ring-shaped one that followed the sun? That thing broke my brain.” Rarity pulled her portfolio in closer. “Well. I think both concepts showcase my more technical design skills,” she said. “I just want to see if I can score some extra points on aesthetics. The vacation planet ended up as such a throw-back, but the diamond planet is so… so…” “Shiny?” Pinkie suggested. Rarity giggled. “I was going to say ‘modern’, but you’re not wrong. It is quite shiny.” Pinkie beamed. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s rocks!” she proclaimed. “Maybe that’s why I like the vacation planet so much… fewer core samples to take.” “Seriously,” Rainbow said. “You know you’re good either way, right? Your designs are awesome.” Rarity hid her smile behind her forelock. “Oh, I don’t know…” “Hey. Quit it with the humility, okay?” Rainbow said. “You’re awesome. Your stuff’s awesome. They’ll be crazy not to certify you.” Pinkie nodded in enthusiastic agreement. Rarity straightened up. Her grip on her portfolio loosened. “Thank you. Sincerely. I know I’ve been a touch difficult as of late, and I—” “Yeah, but it’ll all be worth it if you get an apprenticeship, right?” Pinkie said. The mere mention of it had Rarity smiling so strongly she nearly split her face in two. “I suppose,” she murmured. “You kidding?” Rainbow crumpled up her coffee cup and tossed it into the nearby bin. “Rarity’s gonna have her own Architect’s wings in, like, a month. Max.” “They don’t just give out alicornhood, you know,” Rarity corrected. “Cadance was a special case.” “I know,” Rainbow said with a shrug. “You’re a special case too, dummy.” She said it so nonchalantly, looking down at the televox device strapped to her front leg, about as emotional as if she had only just told her friend what she’d eaten for breakfast. Her hoof scrolled mindlessly through a number of notifications, bored quickly, and dropped back to her side. She seemed somehow surprised to see that Rarity was still staring at her. “What’d I say?” she asked. “You think I’m a special case?” Rarity breathed. “Yeah,” Rainbow said. “Of course. You’re, like, a planetary design genius. They’d be stupid not to give you wings. You could get whole solar systems kickstarted all by yourself, no complaints.” “And they’d be the most fabulous solar systems in the whole galaxy,” Pinkie added, poking her friend affectionately on the snout. Rainbow made a face which suggested this was a matter of opinion. The train, at long last, came flying out the end of the tunnel. The full force of the sunlight filled the train car with almost artificially bright light, all of it spectacularly colored and flowing through the car like water.  Rarity was so stunned by the sudden explosion of color that she almost didn’t notice the train pulling up to the platform. She turned to look back out at the city below, the way the light sparkled and shimmered—seemed alive. Filled her with pride. Made her chest swell at the very sight of it, at the mere possibility that she should be able to create her own. It wasn’t until Pinkie stretched and popped up from her seat that Rarity even registered they’d stopped at all. “Just remember: if it gets scary, tell a little joke!” Pinkie said, hooking one foreleg around the back of Rarity’s neck. “Committees love that. No one ever tells them jokes.” Rarity giggled. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” “Yeah, and we’ve got your back,” Rainbow added. “When it’s all done. No matter what happens.” The friends fell into a comfortable silence. Just the three of them in this big, empty car. Rarity leaned her head against the window once again, staring out at the peaceful landscape below. The sky, tinged yellow rather than the more familiar blue, was a constant reminder of the newness of this place. Just the few of them in this big, empty city. Beyond the city, an empty planet, waiting to be formed. Beyond the planet, an empty galaxy, waiting to be discovered. Pioneers. Preparing the new world for ponies yet to come. The examination room was smaller than she had pictured. No, no. Not an examination. A presentation.  Examination was such a big word. A scary word. She wasn’t being examined, she was presenting. She was giving. An important distinction. The carpet was ugly. Funny to have such ugly carpet in a design school. Shouldn’t they know better? Here, of all places? Rarity ran her hoof over the dense pile. Then again. Then again. Faster, faster, allowing her hoof to lose feeling as it memorized the oppressive non-texture. She looked down once again, wondering if it may have changed. Still ugly. The chairs looked uncomfortable, too. Low, stiff backs covered in stained fabric. Would that count against her? Would her committee be so eager to get out of that tiny room that they’d bail before they got the chance to hear her brilliance? Rarity looked back at her drawings. She was proud of them, of course—the culmination of many years of study, tears, and vicious cycles of terse criticism and late-night revisions. Just a few drawings, all painstakingly checked and rechecked, calculated and recalculated. It was a complicated plan for such a little planet, but the detail with which she had imbued the drawing hopefully sold the whimsy of it all—tiny natural crystals which, despite being drawn in plain, dark ink, seemed to sparkle in Rarity's eyes. She could only hope they would sparkle in the eyes of her committee, as well. As if on cue, the rickety metal door to Rarity's right side flew open, and she snapped to attention beside her easel. The first in the door was Sunburst, his head ducked as he fussed with his spectacles, his hoofsteps more erratic and thumping than the average unicorn. “Morning, Rarity,” he said. “You’re here early.” Rarity could only laugh awkwardly in return, offering no actual words. Behind him was Spitfire, a much more put-together pegasus who marched with the confidence of a military captain. Perhaps she had been. Rarity had never really gotten the chance to get to know her; she seemed to resist being known at all. Even now, as she prepared to judge Rarity’s academic worth, she entered the room silently. Last was Braeburn, a stallion who resisted everything academia was or ever could be. Effortlessly casual, limitlessly humble, and blindingly southern. He tipped his hat to Rarity and flashed her a kind smile as he moseyed to his seat. Her committee filed into their uncomfortable seats, squirmed a bit, found their place, and looked up at her expectantly. And it was only then that she realized her committee was no older than she was. It struck her in the chest with a strange force. These ponies, ones that she had considered so much wiser and more learned than she was, were her age. How had they made it so far? Perhaps that was the downside of being a part of the cutting edge. Even though it was new to everyone, there were still those who would find a way to squeak out a lead. To be the best and brightest at this brand-new thing. Well. Perhaps they hadn’t thrown away a perfectly good career to make a late-stage change. That would probably help. “Whenever you’re ready,” Sunburst said. He was still rummaging through his bag. As if none of this mattered to him. As if it were just one in a long line of presentations he'd see today, and he knew precisely how all of them would go, so much so that he didn't bother to look. Or he was trying to put her at ease. One or the other. Rarity cleared her throat. "Er… thank you for being here today," she said. "I think I signed a paper that says I had to be," Spitfire observed. "So don't thank us yet." Braeburn chuckled at that. "Aw, you got the best sense 'a humor, Spits." Spitfire did not respond. Rarity laughed, a bit forced but her committee pretended not to notice. "Well. Regardless," she said. "Thank you." Spitfire nodded. "What've you got for us today?" Braeburn asked, cheery as ever.  Rarity blinked. Was that how she was meant to start? Wouldn't someone… you know, introduce her? Give her a jumping off point? "Of course," Rarity said, turning to her easel. "Of course. I'd like to present to you all a method for long-term interstellar asteroid mining." "Long term?" Spitfire repeated. "Can you elaborate on that?" "Well, our current methods for interstellar asteroid mining are, er… 'get in, get out' jobs," Rarity explained. "A valuable asteroid approaches, we gear up our best astronauts and send them out for a singular mission." Her committee was silent. They looked on with a mix of interest and calculation that put Rarity on edge. “This is all well and good for mining that is purely profit-driven, but there is the occasional passing bit of rock that carries a magical signature, yes?” Rarity pulled a piece of cardstock out from behind her blueprint and showed off a steadily-climbing graph. Her committee leaned in slightly to examine it. “These sorts of asteroids may hold the key to new technological advances, or help us to track down other lifeforms in the reaches of space. However, our ability to study them is limited by their lack of orbital tethering.” Silence. Did that mean she was doing well? “Temperature can change rapidly as the object passes nearby stars, amplified by reflection off the crystalline surfaces,” Rarity continued, her voice steadying as she brought out another piece of cardstock detailing these dramatic temperature changes in several graphics. “Materials which are not photochemically stable are going to experience wild fluctuations in structure due to lack of atmosphere. The possibility of interaction from other passing debris is nonzero and difficult to accurately predict. And, without a repeating path, delivering research materials to and from the asteroid is nearly impossible.” Someone made a low “hm” sound. Rarity glanced up at the panel, giving them a moment to interrupt her if she had missed something. They only looked on quietly. “So, then. We can agree there’s a need for a method by which we can study these interstellar asteroids for a longer period than currently allotted,” she said confidently. “I propose using the gravitational fields of other bodies as a sort of… celestial butterfly net.” Rarity swapped her cards and boards about once again, revealing a detailed diagram of celestial bodies and planned trajectories. Her committee shifted, analyzing the image before them, searching for loose threads to pick at. “We’ve long since used alicorns to jumpstart the motion of other planets and moons as part of the terraforming process. This would utilize the same skills to influence the paths of asteroids. It’s only a matter of good timing and physics!” She pointed to the moment of contact, when the asteroid would be caught, using her magic to trace its new path. “When it comes to mathematics, it’s nothing more strenuous than planning interstellar missions. This diagram, for example, illustrates the theoretical capture of Radiance II by the Umbrum system.” Her magic lit up the planets orbiting the central Umbrum star, swirling around it in a chaotic dance along the dotted lines she’d carefully drawn. “By aligning the planets properly and utilizing their combined gravitational force, we can essentially slingshot a passing asteroid into close orbit around the star,” she explained, allowing her magic planets to fall into place beside one another, and demonstrating the asteroid flying into the center. “Once it’s in place, it’s only a matter of traditional terraforming procedures. Pegasi atmospheric development, some core surveys with a team of earth ponies… and, of course, construction of a research outpost staffed by unicorns.” She withdrew her final image, this one a more traditional terraforming schematic featuring the asteroid Radiance II. Its crystalline surface, rendered in painstaking detail by Rarity’s trusty set of draftmare’s pencils, was more impressive than she had even remembered.  Proud of her work, she beamed, and turned to her committee. “I’m prepared to take any questions you may have on the process,” she said. The committee shared a wordless look. Rarity did her best not to stare. “Uh…” Sunburst adjusted his spectacles. “Well. It’s certainly an elegant solution. Very simple. I’d like to review your physics, of course, but… well, I don’t see any reason it shouldn’t work.” “Ditto, my friend,” Braeburn added. “And I’ve gotta say I appreciate your presentation, here. Too many students get bogged down in the jargon. Hard to stay enthusiastic, if y’know what I mean.” He winked. Rarity returned a polite smile and a nod. “I’ve got a question,” Spitfire announced. Rarity’s heartbeat went wild. “Um. Of course.” “Asteroid mining is expensive.” Spitfire leaned back in her chair and crossed her hooves over her chest. “But we do it because it makes money. This is great and all, but it’s gonna cost somepony a whole load of money. Are you planning on pursuing a grant for this?” “Ah! Yes, of course!” Rarity flipped back through her materials, at last producing a card which showed, in much greater detail, the surface of Radiance II. Seated amongst the towering columns of crystal was a simple building—one with a large wraparound porch and many, many windows, all of it contained under a transparent dome which had taken Rarity far more time to draw than she would have liked to admit. “Tourism,” she said simply. “There are a million and one reasons one might want to visit a distant planet. These asteroids are going to be an entirely new environment for many ponies—very low gravity, untouched natural landscapes, not to mention the concentration of magical properties. They could act as a sort of nature reserve; an exotic getaway for anypony who wants to feel as if they’re taking part in our exploration of the cosmos.” Spitfire arched a brow. “And you think there’s a market for that?” “Darn tootin’, there is!” Braeburn exclaimed. “You know how many times I’ve had a cousin, aunt, or uncle tell me they’re jealous of my work? Don’t matter how boring I make it sound: everypony wants to be a pioneer.” Spitfire looked to Sunburst for back-up. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anypony express jealousy of my work,” he said. “Though… that might have less to do with the allure of the far reaches of space, and more to do with the way I talk about them.” Spitfire nodded. “Fair enough.” Sunburst looked back to Rarity. “Let’s take a look at the math, shall we?” When Rarity finally left the small examination room, she felt a strange lightness in her chest. Whatever happened, it was over now. She let out an enormous sigh and slumped back against the wall. With one hoof, she reached up to pat down the flyaways which tickled at her muzzle, and found a pencil surreptitiously tucked behind her ear. With a small and out-of-breath chuckle, she pulled the pencil out. “Hey!” Rarity perked up at the whispered address. “Hey!” Rainbow repeated, coming down the hall towards her at a light canter. “Is it over? Are you an Architect yet or what?” Rarity nodded to the door. “Deliberations.” Rainbow skidded to a stop before her friend. “Dang. How long do those usually take?” “I’ve absolutely no idea,” Rarity admitted, hanging her head. “Well… do you think it went good at least?” Rainbow asked. She siddled up beside her friend and similarly slid down the wall into a seating position. “What am I saying—of course it did. You’re awesome.” Rarity sighed. “I’m not so sure. Sunburst found a few mathematical errors in my work—” “He finds mathematical errors in everyone’s work,” Rainbow pointed out. “Perhaps,” Rarity said with a shrug. “And Spitfire… inscrutable as always.” “Ugh, I know, right?” Rainbow rolled her eyes. “I had her last year for a low-gravity flight course. She’s basically a statue.” Rarity snorted. Rainbow smiled gently. “You don’t seem too torn up about it, though.” “I think I’m just relieved to be finished,” Rarity said simply. “Whatever the outcome, it’s nice to be on the other side.” Rainbow nodded. “Yeah. I get that.” “Is Pinkie Pie coming?” Rarity asked. “She’s on her way. Probably got distracted by the new drink cart in the quad.” Rainbow pulled a water bottle from her saddlebag and took a quick swig. “She’ll be here.” Rarity nodded. “How was your technical?” “It was a breeze,” Rainbow said, with a dismissive wave of her hoof. “Soarin was proctoring. Known softie.” Rarity laughed softly. The sound echoed in the vast hall. It was easy to feel small in a place like this. The University of Terraforming had, rightfully so, been founded on Aurora—equinity’s first step out into the vastness of space. Its buildings were constructed to reflect this idea of a broad and shimmering horizon… as impractical as the overabundance of glass and marble may have been. Then again, it was easy to feel big in a place like this, too. Ponykind had made it to the stars. Had shaped the very heavens to their desires, had reached into a dozen other solar systems and put down roots—shallow as they may be.  The suns shone through the magnificent glass dome over Rarity’s head, exploding into a rainbow of light which sparkled on the marble floor. A floor that few yet had walked, but an impossible number of burgeoning Architects would surely trace in eons to come. The first of many. A pioneer. Everypony wants to be a pioneer. Rarity tapped her hooves nervously on the marble floor. It was all but impossible not to imagine all the many ways her committee was tearing her apart on the other side of this wall. Mathematics errors, poor concept, not a strong enough inclusion of earth pony terraforming—why hadn’t she done a better job including that work? Why hadn’t she given more thought to surveying? She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled her head back against the wall. Utter and complete agony, this was. “Rarity!” Rarity opened one eye and spotted Pinkie Pie bounding down the hall, her mane wobbling like jello atop her head.  “Didja do it?” she asked excitedly. “Didja get your license?” “Well, I—” “Prob’ly not, huh? Otherwise you’d be jumping up and down like crazy!” Pinkie surmised, demonstrating her own limitless energy with a few more bounces in place. “I’m waiting to hear,” Rarity said, patting the floor beside her. “Come sit.” Pinkie shrugged and skated over the marble to sit beside her friend. “Gee, you’d think they’d put some benches in here.” “I’m sure they will eventually,” Rarity said. “That’s the downside of being the first of anything.” Rainbow snorted. “This Architect’s school sure needs an Architect, huh?” Pinkie snickered along with her. Rarity only pressed her head back against the wall, willing the ponies inside to just finish up already. As if on cue, Rarity heard the door softly unlatch. She was on her hooves in an instant, smoothing her mane, doing her best to look presentable. Her committee filed out of the room, all of them holding their notes close to their chest, the faces impenetrable and stony. Rarity bit her lip. “Rarity!” Sunburst said, as if surprised to see her. “Um… congratulations! You’ve just earned your provisional Architect’s license!” Rainbow and Pinkie instantly let loose with a chorus of shouting that seemed to startle Sunburst all the more. Braeburn seemed—well, perhaps not equally excited, but he was certainly happier than strictly necessary. Spitfire, of course, was her usual emotionless self. Until she gave Rarity a hearty smack on the shoulder. “This is exactly the sort of thing we’re looking for from Architect candidates,” she said gruffly. “We’re gonna set you up with an apprenticeship so you can start working towards that full license, alright?” The words stuck in Rarity’s throat. “Erm—yes! That’s—that would be—thank you!” she managed to splutter out, surging forward to shake the hooves of anypony who would offer them. “I—well, I’m just so—thank you!” “Don’t mention it,” Spitfire said, giving Rarity another, more comforting pat. “Now do yourself a favor: go celebrate.” The city streets were empty, as always. By the time all three mares left campus, the suns were setting. As they met the horizon, they sent great arcing beams of light into the sky, warped and bent by the artificial atmosphere into a lovely orange hue. The slow darkening of the sky turned it, too, from yellow to orange to a deep and warm red, distant galaxies a bold and beautiful purple against it. The streetlights clicked on and off one by one as the mares passed them by, only lighting the way a few strides in advance. Always keeping the next bit a surprise. “What do you think the apprenticeship is gonna be like?” Pinkie asked. “Hey, good question,” Rainbow said. “I mean, we’ve heard you talk about it before, but… y’know.” Rarity chuckled at that. “I truly don’t know what to expect,” she said. “I’ve been treating it like this faraway goal for so long… If I’m honest, I don’t know that I expected to make it this far. I’m still a little in shock, I think.” “I bet you’re gonna get this cool, old, Starswirl the Bearded kinda pony,” Pinkie continued. She tugged a piece of her mane under her chin to act as a fake beard, scrunched up her face, and put on a ridiculous fake voice. “Move the moon, you must! Or grant you your wings, I shall not!” Rainbow barked with laughter. “Is that what you think Starswirl sounds like?!” She laughed again, throwing her head back and letting it echo through the barren streets. “What’s with the voice?!” “I ‘unno,” Pinkie said with a shrug. “Just seemed like a good mentor voice.” The pair went back and forth a bit longer, comparing their best voices amongst bouts of ridiculous laughter. The sound carried far and wide, stopped by nothing, overtaken by nothing, only filling the endless void of the empty city. Rarity stopped. The mares ahead of her carried on a while longer, giving one another playful shoves, their way lit by the endless orange streetlights. Rarity only stood still, below a single streetlight of her own. After a moment or two, the girls seemed to realize they’d lost a member of their crew. “Hey!” Rainbow called. “Rares, you okay?” Rarity blinked, hesitated, then nodded. “What’sa matter?” Pinkie yelled, perhaps louder than she needed to. “Nothing!” Rarity called back. “In fact, everything’s wonderful!” The mares ahead shared a look. “Huh?” Rainbow bellowed. “Darlings, I’m simply trying to savor the moment!” Rarity announced, closing her eyes and soaking in the delightful glow of the singular streetlight above her. Darkness ahead. But in darkness lay possibilities. Rarity couldn’t help but think of the way she’d felt when she decided to leave Equus. In an instant, she’d decided to leave behind a perfectly decent career in fashion design to chase a dream in the stars. To live amongst the hoofful of other ponies stupid and lonely enough to live on an empty planet, to dedicate all of their time to schooling. To chase the horizon. She’d felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a foggy abyss. She felt that way now. But it was… good. After a long moment, Rarity felt a gentle brush on her side. When she opened her eyes, she found herself flanked by her friends, both of them smiling warmly at her. “You’re a dork,” Rainbow said. Rarity rolled her eyes. “I know.” “A fun dork!” Pinkie corrected. “Thank you, Pinkie,” Rarity said, smiling. All the streetlights were off, now. Just the three of them in the darkness. Just the three of them and the endless universe.