//------------------------------// // Ancient Library // Story: Starscribbles // by Starscribe //------------------------------// Blair knew she was on the right track. She'd known it for weeks, maybe months. But this time, she was certain. Three times she had propped the 14th District, located deep under Nova Canterlot's incredible concrete pylons. Three times her drones had reported massive cavities filled with organic material, arranged in orderly rows, before vanishing from the grid. Now at long last she had learned all she could from the electronic eyes of disposable drones, and it was time to go down for real. She dressed the part as she hurried down Nova Canterlot's dingy streets. A close-fitting jumpsuit of sturdy dark fabric, with the metal loops of a climbing harness, and a saddlebag of expeditionary gear.  Blair was no fool—she knew a deer in the city of Equestria would face dangers. She had none of the powerful magical advantages that gave the city's ruling elite their high places atop the Arcology Pyramids and Megatowers. Buck them and their magic, if it rotted the soul. Wearing a plastic rebreather over her mouth was enough to keep off the smog and let her breathe clearly. Unfortunately it also kept her face hidden from the other street trash down on ground level. She passed through a dark alley turned into a neighborhood bodega, and she couldn't give her usual greeting to the one-legged Minotaur running the place. She tossed a ration pack to a colt huddled in a cardboard box beside a bridge, and hoped it would be enough.  Food wasn't the problem anymore, though. With the collapse of the Global Weather Conglomerate, rain just didn't come for any creature who didn't have the bits to pay. The broadcasts boasted louder and louder of decreasing food prices, but ignored creatures struggling for thirst. We're coming apart at the seams. Nova Canterlot won't last the decade unless someone can do something. That someone was Blair—discoverer of lost knowledge, and eventual savior of the city. There would  never be a statue with her name, but that didn't bother her. She wasn't some high-class unicorn, living in a perfumed mansion while the city below choked on its own excrement. She didn't care who had the credit, so long as her friends stopped dying. More than once she had to break into a trot, as broad-shouldered brutes or other lower-city predators noticed her traveling alone. If the Library was somewhere respectable ponies went, she wouldn't need to be the one to find it, some creature already would have. But she was prepared for this threat, too. She dodged between crowds the way her ancient ancestors had darted between the trees. Like the wolves of old, these urban predators soon realized she wasn't worth the chase, and found easier prey. She reached her destination after an hour—Nova Canterlot Municipal Access. In days long gone, the huge metal door had opened many times a day to a steady stream of maintenance drones, that flowed up and down to keep the city shining. But when Twilight left her ruling throne, so too had the city begun its own twilight, starting with the vast machines that kept it running. No one knew how to keep the sewer-bots working, or maybe they just didn't care. Nopony who mattered ever walked the streets, so what difference did it make if they got a little dirty. She wedged a crowbar under the rusty door, working it with great effort until it finally slid free. Whole sections of metal crumbled to the ground around her, provoking several passers-by to finally look up and notice her. They muttered fearfully, retreating out of the way. "Is she crazy? Fast track to Tartarus, that way." The laws of Nova Canterlot might protect all residents equally—but the enforcement of those laws was clear. No one cared if you attacked other residents, so long as you left city infrastructure alone. Maybe it was her imagination, but Blair thought she heard a distant siren as she slipped through the rusty door, and into the darkness. The police could try to follow her, but they'd be doomed. She stepped out of the ash and grime of the street and into an entirely separate world, with huge concrete arches rising high overhead.  She pressed the gas-mask tighter to her mouth, but still the stink of sewage made her eyes water. Ancient and modern all rotted alike, and more than once she gagged within her mask, threatening to spit it out. After a short distance, she left the routes well known to Nova Canterlot residents, passing through rusty gates towards places only her drone eyes had seen in the last century. She slowed slightly as she entered these abandoned places, pausing long enough to recover the flashlight headband and secure it. Once it was on, she could see just where she had ended up. For a few seconds, Blair was stunned into silence. Far more impressive than any megatower, she had found the remnants of an ancient street, with buildings of just a story or two clustered together along a sloping mountainside.  Vast concrete columns rose in the distance, dwarfing the little street with its little houses. But no arcology or mega-engineering project could impress her quite like this.  The city was just... abandoned. It wasn't looted, the windows weren't broken. There was a thick layer of dust perhaps, but that was all. She could almost hear the ghostly creatures walking down the streets, living lives that would be incomprehensible to the people of today. They might even know each others' names. But Blair could not stop to mourn their loss, or the strange process that had led the residents of such a lovely little city to gradually cover the whole world in one sprawling megacomplex. She had almost reached her destination. She found it near the peak of the little sloping settlement, where humble buildings transformed to a palace. It would still seem modest by modern standards, perhaps a dozen stories tall, of white stone stained by oil and other foul things seeping down from below.  Blair consulted her map, then stepped through the ancient gate. Her curiosity drew her towards the palace, and she longed to step through those half-open doors, and inspect the hanging threadbare tapestries. But she resisted, focused steadfastly on her goal. "Canterlot Royal Library." It was crafted with the same reverence as everything else, not the mass-produced, flashfabed cement of Blair's world. There were fine statues on either side, Alicorns holding scrolls in their mouths. Unlike the palace just beside it, this ruin was unstained by oil, and its walls were unbroken. A little too intact, all things considered. There's still power here. Blair dimmed the light on her headlamp, then stepped inside. Her first drone had made it less than a hundred meters before it lost power, she should see it soon. Through those impressive doors were a vast receiving-hall, with a gigantic model of Equus cast from stone. It still rotated slowly in a fountain of real water. Except the map was wrong. She could see mountain ranges along Equestria's length, where she knew so many had been quarried away to nothing. There was no atomic crater in Yakyakistan, and the oceans had strange boundaries. There was still ice on this map. Every little detail drew her eye—the magical crystals glowing from sconces along the walls, the strange plants of spun glass decorating every little desk. There was so much real wood here, so many real books. They had a smell to them, strong enough to make it through her gas-mask. Blair removed it, letting it hang by its elastic bungee, stepping past an empty circulation desk. "The knowledge of the ancient princess is here," she muttered. "Helping no one, forgotten by the ones in charge."  And now she was here, where all those ancient secrets could be revealed. "Visitor," said a voice, slow and mechanical. Her ears twitched, pivoting towards the sound. The empty circulation desk? Curious. "The Royal Library is currently understaffed. Please return at another time." Blair made her way to the desk. She kept her muscles taut, ready to sprint back through the door at a moment's notice. Creatures whispered tales of horror of the ancient magic in these ruins, from before the day of machines and science. She knew from her own explorations that the stories of great powers were true, or at least the ancients had believed them. The traps thing was basically just a myth—the old ponies of Equestria hadn't wanted to defend their secrets, but share them.  Too bad about the dying city covering it all up. "Excuse me," she said, raising her voice just a little. She removed her hood, brushing some of the dust and dirt from her face. "I do not mean to be a bother to you, but I don't think I can return at another time. There's, uh..." She glanced over her shoulder at the empty city. There was no light outside, yet the inside of the library glowed warmly. Whatever magic spoke to her obviously was enough to sustain the place, maybe even protect it from the decay outside. It could probably get rid of her, if she made it think she was a threat. "I'm just here to read a few books. Would it be alright if I look around? I promise to put everything back on the shelves where I found it." There was a pause, and a long silence. When the voice came again, she could at least see where it came from—a complex golden apparatus, sunken into the space just behind the desk. It vanished into the floor, as though it carried with it various electrical and support lines. "It is not permitted for anypony to access the library without staff in attendance. The resources here are valuable, and present information that may be dangerous if not understood in their proper context. Please make a request to the Royal Society, and file staffing resources. There are... sixteen thousand unresolved maintenance orders." Blair nodded, as though she were about to obey the voice and retreat the way she came. But her mind raced—maybe old magic responded the same way as new computers did. She could trick it. "Oh, I see your mistake! See, I was just assigned here from the Royal Society. There has been an extended, uh... period of low resources availability. I'm here to help!" She didn't wait for the voice to respond, just strode right past it into the Library proper. Past the circulation desk was a vast stairwell, as wide as some of the buildings outside, with several interconnected stairwells stretching down. She saw dozens, maybe even hundreds of floors down there, each cut from the rock.  Not with identical mechanical precision, either—this was a work of art, constructed by thousands of loving hooves. Everywhere she looked she saw more shelves, overflowing with knowledge. The Royal Society has access to everything ever discovered. Princess Twilight must have kept books coming in here long after the city outside was abandoned. For the elites and their teleportation, maybe a deserted ruin was an advantage, since it would keep the riff-raff away.  She did not make it very far before she came to another desk, slightly smaller than the first. There was another glowing apparatus inside, one that seemed somehow brighter. Was it angry at her? "You are reporting for duty, librarian?" it asked, even sounding agitated. "Please state your name for the record." "I'm Blair," she said, making to walk past this desk as well. Either her ploy was working, or else the library's ancient protections were wearing thin. "Just here to be a... librarian, yep. Whatever you just said." "Excellent. Due to persistent staffing shortage, employee loyalty protocol is in effect," it said. "Please remain still." "Remain—" Something slammed into her from all directions, the weight of several hulking metal objects. They smacked into her limbs with considerable weight, driving her to the ground. She screamed, trying to tear herself away. In vain, as whatever holding her only constricted. The assault brought with it an incredible surge of magic, one strong enough for her to feel even without magical senses. But it did not last long. As quickly as it began, it fled again. Blair opened her eyes, and found she was still on the top floor of the library. Only her explorers' clothes were gone, her flashlight, her saddlebag of supplies. Instead she wore only... gold chains?  They connected to manacles on her hooves, made of metal so thin it was almost lace. Except when she tried to pull on it, and found it didn't bend. Still, they were loose enough for her to move freely. Her hooves connected to another thicker collar around her neck. That ended in a chain that trailed through the air, fading to transparent.  But when she backed away, she felt resistance on that chain, as though it was connected to something real. It might be invisible, but it still exerted a pull. "Staff retention protocol complete. Welcome, Librarian Blair. There are currently sixteen thousand unresolved maintenance orders." Something chimed, and a sheet of paper slid out of a slot hidden in the desk. "Here is your first assignment. Please feel free to access any of the library's resources to complete it." Blair stumbled past the desk, making it out onto the balcony. She pulled at the collar around her neck, tugging as hard as she could. It hurt, but the metal didn't give. Here she stood, at the threshold of the world's largest supply of lost knowledge. But how was she supposed to get it out?