//------------------------------//
// 23 - Sea Drive 
// Story: The Advocate 
// by Guardian_Gryphon 
//------------------------------//

“It is customary to offer a grain of comfort, in the form of a statement that some peculiarly human characteristic could never be imitated by a machine. I cannot offer any such comfort, for I believe that no such bounds can be set.”
—Alan Turing

“If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; If you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth, only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.”
—C.S. Lewis



September 16th 2013 | System Uptime 19:10:12:08


We made it to LA right about the time Syzygy's memory record came to an end. 

It felt like exiting a movie theater, more than deboarding a train...  That sense of having been so immersed in a story delivered through the medium of a screen, that the surrounding world ceased to exist for a short while.

I was on autopilot the whole way, in every sense of the word.  Mal talked me through the station, and out to another rented car that was ready and waiting in the parking lot.  Another 'cop-alike' white SUV, I noted, in spite of a dozen other competing thought processes.

Nothing else really registered with me.  Not even the sound of Mal's voice.  I followed her instructions as more of a 'background process' than anything else.

My foreground thoughts were completely occupied with Syzygy.  With everything her experiences could tell us about Arrow 14.  All the questions that her tribulations begged of us, both practical and philosophical.

I must have sat in the driver's seat of that SUV for a good fifteen minutes in total silence.  Mal let me have the moment to process, and I'm grateful that she did.  I was edging dangerously close to sensory and emotional overload.

So much had changed in a few short hours.  Again.

My life had become a strange mirror for Sizzie's...  She had been bogged down with interminably elongated stretches of time designed to either break her will, or force productivity.  I had spent the past week moving through life so fast that it felt like a decade's worth of change had happened in an hour's worth of time.

She had lost the love of her life...  I had gained the love of mine.  

*That* was still sinking in...  Was I the first person to ever be proposed to by a digital life-form?  Or had either a created-Pony, or one of the early uploaded Humans...  Or even Celestia herself...  Beaten Mal to the punch at some juncture?  

Probably so, actually.  Statistically speaking, it made sense that I wasn't the first.  And that was oddly comforting.

The reverse-parallels didn't stop there...  Syzygy had been ripped away from all her friends, and I'd been smashed into the crucible of crises with new ones.

If there was one thing constant, and shared, between us?  It was the fact that we'd both been forced to evolve to cope.  That, and the fact that we both owed Michael Foucault an flank-whipping of enormous, and merciless proportions.

And, of course, the fact that Mal was our only hope at reaching any kind of happy ending to our story...

...Alright so that's three things and I can't count.  We've established this before, there's no need to laugh *again...*

I have heard *every* joke that *exists* about programmers who can't count.

Mal knew how to weigh my needs against the needs of the situation, and when we reached that balance point, she cleared her throat softly.  That was enough to bring me rushing back to the present, like a watermelon at the bottom of a pool, suddenly freed from whatever weight had pulled it down.

I sighed, gripped the steering wheel, squeezed to let out a little more tension, then turned to look at the PonyPad.  It was propped in the console...  Apparently this vehicle hadn't come with the option for a charger, but the indicator said we had two and a half more hours' battery life.

More than enough to get back to the Maru, even in abysmal LA traffic.

I offered Mal a brief smile.  My way of silently affirming my love for her...  My understanding that what we'd both just witnessed was hard for her too...  My joy at simply having her there with me.

She returned the smile, and we sat in silence for another couple seconds, before I gestured with my head towards Syzygy's sleeping form.

"Is it safe to wake her?"

Mal nodded with a pleasant, comforting surety that was mirrored in her tone.

"I performed another deep-scan while you watched her memories.  I have also reviewed all of them, including the portions I skipped or truncated in the interests of time.  I am confident that it is safe...  And I think we should."

I returned the nod, and let out a sigh of relief.  Syzygy had slept long enough.

"I agree."

I started the car, and began the circuitous, unpleasant process of reaching the freeway while Mal moved to gently roust the sleeping Alicorn.  In a small, but fascinating testament to ASI's ability to multitask, Mal also provided a transparent, simplified set of GPS navigational aids in the lower left corner of the screen.

I'd never seen the UI design before...  She must have come up with it on the fly.  It was elegant, minimalist, and easy to read, without losing too much screen real estate.

I was always half-decent, for an Earthling, at multitasking myself.  I kept one eye and ear on the PonyPad, while simultaneously following Mal's GPS guidance onto the 110 South.  Downtown LA was, predictably, a stop-and-go crawl, so once I picked a spot in the slow lane and got settled, I had plenty of mental overhead to spare.

Syzygy blinked, cocked her head, and then exhaled a soft breath of surprise, and - judging from her expression - a little awe.

"A *Gryphon...*  Not entirely unexpected...  But still..."

Mal smiled - a kind, inviting, warm expression - and proffered a claw.  Syzygy placed one hoof in the extended palm, and allowed the Gryphoness to assist her to a standing position.

"I am called Malacandra.  Mal, for short.  Jim you already know."

Syzygy dipped her head towards me, and mustered something halfway to a smile of her own, before glancing back to Mal.  She understood the dynamics of the situation - what each of us knew, and didn't - so she opted to be direct.

"I presume you both know me as well as I know myself...  You would be fools otherwise.  And I also presume that you can take us somewhere safe.  I have wagered my life, and the lives of many others, on the hope that your skills and resources can provide answers that I..."

Her ears drooped, and her voice hitched a little.  I was struck with a sudden sense of...  Nostalgia?  Familiarity?  

"...That I could not."

Her voice still sounded the way it had before her form had changed, albeit slightly richer and...  Just...  'More.'  But the tone in which she spoke, and the way that the melancholy words escaped a muzzle that I'd always known as Luna's...

It reminded me of the first time we'd seen the character canonically.  Though the reasoning behind the remorse was very, very different.

After a moment of solemn silence, during which I chewed my bottom lip, I worked up the emotional impetus to say what I wanted to say.  I felt a compulsion to apologize...  As if on behalf of all of Earth's citizens, for what had been done to that mare.

"I...  Am so sorry, Syzygy.  For what you went through."

I found a safe moment in the flow of traffic to glance fully down at the PonyPad again, and made eye contact with our new...  Friend?  Another new friend?

Was that what she was?

I realized suddenly that I *hoped* she would be.  After everything she'd endured, she needed friends.  Friends who had the context to, even partly, understand what had happened to her.

I did warn you;  I was always more of a Luna fan.

Was that *who* she was?

I'd called her 'Syzygy' without a second thought...  And she hadn't said a word in response, holding eye contact with me all the while, with an expression equal parts hope...  And fear.

"Is...  'Syzygy' alright?  Or do you prefer 'Luna' now?"

The question slipped out almost without consideration.  I wanted to know the answer, of course...  

But more than that, I wanted her to know - with absolute reassurance - that she hadn't exchanged one set of captors for another.  That she could be herself, whatever that might mean, and that we would accept her.

She tilted her head, and shifted her wings ever so slightly.  I was forced to return my eyes to the road, listening and occasionally glancing down, as she slowly worked her way through to an answer aloud.

"I am not Syzygy Starburst anymore.  In a way, I was...  And yet...  I never really was.  But I do not wish the name Luna, either.  From what I know, and can infer, there are doubtless many who look and sound like me...  Who are each unique...  But most of them are called 'Luna.'  In a certain light, I too am...  Something unique.  So I would rather have something of my own...  But for all the time I had to consider, I've never thought about it in such solid terms before."

On my next glance down, I saw that Mal was doing what she always did.  

Living up to what she was, and...  Advocating.  For someone to be the best version of themselves.

She gently hugged the young Alicorn with one wing, and spoke in a tone that was almost motherly...  And again, as always, what she had to say was timely, and helpful.

"According to The Elements of Harmony Guidebook, published June 4 of this year, the first name that the original character of Luna was initially developed under was Selena."

The old saying is true;  You learn something new every day.  I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised...  Mal was arguably tied with celestia for the best knowledge search engine ever to exist...  And she had named herself, perfectly.  It made sense she would have an answer for a crisis of nomenclature.

The blue-toned Alicorn hesitated, just for a moment...  Then leaned into the crook of Mal's shoulder, resting her head, and closing her eyes as she murmured softly.

"Selena;  Feminine.  Of Greek origin.  Meaning 'The moon,' a derivation of sélas, meaning 'bright...' "

She opened her eyes again, and I watched as her mane shortened, back to something more closely resembling the style she'd worn before.  Her cutie mark, and the symbol on her peytral, changed as well.  

In the blink of an eye, what was once a crescent moon instead became a full moon, partially eclipsing the tiniest hint of the disc of a verdant green and blue world, both themselves set against a razor thin arc of the sun behind them.

A visual representation of a syzygy.  With the moon in the foreground.

She smiled up at Mal, and nodded.

"...I...  Like that.  Very much."

I almost rear-ended a Prius.

Being present for vital transformational moments in the lives of ASI was becoming a pattern.  And the powerful emotions...  The awe?  The catharsis?  It was losing nothing for the repetition.

I clenched the steering wheel and exhaled slowly.  Almost rear-ending somebody was, I had to remind myself, a multiple-times-a-day ritual for Angelinos.  

Just focus Jim.  Eyes on the road, not the infinitely more interesting interactions of two highly evolved digital beings working through emotional trauma together.  Easy.  Simple task.  Nothing special.

After a few moments of silence, traffic began to pick up again...  Relatively speaking.  Going from two miles per hour to ten is a fivefold increase, but it doesn't feel fast.

I realized it was effectively my 'turn' in the conversation again, and after another moment of awkward quiet...  Awkward for me, at least...  I managed to find the thread of the discussion once more.

"Well...  Selena...  We can't promise any outcomes..."

Selena.  Even saying it aloud...  It felt right, for her.  I chanced a very brief glance in her direction, and smiled.

"...But we can promise to try."

I just managed to catch sight of Mal nodding as she spoke, and I got back to the business of navigating the freeway from hell.

"We have already been making extensive plans for the rescue of all of Arrow 14's captives.  Your assistance, and your knowledge, will be invaluable."

There was a real sense of surety, and of hope in Mal's voice.  Considering how she'd described the Mercurial Red before...  It was comforting.  She hadn't said it outright, but she had deftly communicated in no uncertain terms that, for once, our odds of success had *increased* because of an unexpected encounter.

Selena sighed, and though my sightlines were glued to the traffic snarl in front of me, I could imagine the expression of relief, and release, that must have been evident on her face.

"I confess...  I had hopes.  Hopes are a dangerous thing, in the place that I came from...  But it is almost impossible to survive without them...  One of my greatest hopes was that you would be willing, and able, to help the others.  I knew much about James Carrenton...  Very little about Malacandra.  Just your name, from Foucault, and what I could glean from your actions.  But that was enough to hope."

I smiled, and inclined my head slightly towards the PonyPad, again sparing a quick glance, this time a knowing one directed fully at Mal, though the words I said were for the benefit of both of my passengers.

"Hope is a thing with feathers."

Selena nodded firmly, and a hint of something akin to a smile tugged at one corner of her muzzle.

"A curiously apt reference."

Mal just returned my knowing look silently.  Affectionately.  She understood *all* the intricate layers of implication in what I'd said.

I decided enough was enough, with regards to the traffic situation.  I glanced over my left shoulder, spied an opening, and floored it without even bothering with a turn signal.  Turn signals were not a courtesy in LA, they were a surefire way to end up in an accident.  I hated it, every second of it.

Not just the driving, but *being* in Los Angeles, full-stop.  I was never a city person, and I always preferred the cold to the heat.

Not sorry *that* particular city is gone.  If you disagree?  Bite me.

As we got into a faster lane and began to make some real progress, Selena began to speak once more.

"I would like to know...  If you are willing to tell...  Why a Gryphon?  I have suppositions.  Theories.  Perhaps even intuitions...  But for all the eyes and ears of Arrow 14, there is much we never understood about how, and *why...*  You came to be."

I glanced down again, for just half a second, to see that Mal was looking up at me.  Her expression said, quite clearly, 'let's handle this one together, in turns.  You go first.'

I inhaled deeply, glanced at the GPS, and then nodded.

"Well...  We've got time.  If you know her story...  Our story...  It will make it easier to get introduced to the others."

Again I couldn't see her face, but again I could imagine Selena's expression, this time of confusion.

"The...  'Others?'  Plural?  Implying more than just Rodger Williams?"

So Arrow 14's captives definitely didn't know about Doctor and Missus Calders.  Or Zeph.  That was good news.

I smiled, and tried to conjure up a linear, detailed recollection of the last year of my life.

"Let me start at the beginning...  A Coffee shop in Raleigh.  One day short of *exactly* one year ago..."






September 16th 2013 | System Uptime 19:11:34:13


Before Selena?  Before Mal's...  Proposal...  Before the process of recounting it all again for someone new?  I would have been indescribably relieved to see Rhonda and Eldora Calders waiting for us at the end of the Maru's embarkation ramp.

But I wasn't.

I inferred that they had arrived only a few minutes before we had, given that they were still standing awkwardly at the end of the pier, and given that Mal hadn't said anything about them.  

And it dawned on me suddenly that it wasn't even noon yet.  

I hadn't even had lunch, and already the day's events had reshaped my life in almost incomprehensible ways.

As I put the car in park and gathered myself, mentally, and physically, I found that my mind would not stop fixating on the sense of...   Hollowness?  Perhaps?

No...  I was pleased to see the Calders.  But...  Not overjoyed in the way I'd expected to be.  Not relieved.

The nearest analogue I could find, in the moment, was that it was like worrying and studying for a big test, only to have a more serious crisis erupt the night before.  Then, on getting a good grade back a few days later, there would be no sense of release, because all the worry about the test had been...  'Soaked' away by the larger crisis.

Yes, I speak from experience on that parallel.  Honestly it is still the best one I have for what was happening to me in that moment.

All my emotional overhead, positive and negative, had been devoured by the thought of being engaged to a one-of-a-kind lifeform, with the emotional weight of everything that had happened to Selena heaped on top of that for good measure.

There wasn't any room for relief, or even for nerves about what would inevitably come about, soon enough, from the fruits of our labor.

I lifted the PonyPad from the dash, stepped out onto the pier, and took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders reflexively in the process.

And I very suddenly discovered that I was wrong.  There *was* room for one more thing in my badly over-full emotional stack...

Abject surprise.

Whatever I had previously expected of Eldora Calders?  Those expectations were efficiently, thoroughly, annihilated.  Literally squeezed out of me.  I say literally squeezed, because, diminutive as she once was?  That woman can, and still does, give hugs that make your bones creak.

I wasn't tall, by Human standards.  A hair under average.  Eldora Calders was short, even measured against me.  But that didn't slow her down in any way, shape, or fashion.  

Before I quite knew what was happening, she had crossed the space between us, and thrown her arms around me as if I were her long lost grandson.  It was all I could do, in the moment, to keep hold of the PonyPad.

"It's good to meet you, Jim.  Mal has a lot of good things to say about you, and I get the distinct impression it's been a while since you had a good hug sweetie."

In a way, she wasn't wrong.  I'd had my moment with Mal that morning, true.  But a brief moment was hardly enough to counterweight a year of stress.  I was going to need hugs, as many times as possible, daily, for a long long time when all was finally said and done.  I still need them even now...

From Doctor Calder's description, bare as it was and mostly made of implications?  I'd had this mental image of her wife as a towering elven woman with a frosty outer shell, and a no-nonsense outlook.

In point of fact, Eldora Calders was as close as I'd ever seen to a stereotypical 'grandma who greets you with a cookie tray.'  Curly silver hair, short stature hiding impressive strength, sparkling green eyes that held equal parts mischief, affection, and hope...

All that was missing *was* the cookie tray.

I didn't doubt that there was a Dragon inside...  But she was about as well hidden as the Gryphon in me...  At least, to anyone judging the book for its cover alone.

I finally remembered that, socially speaking, a response was expected of me.  So I forced one out, past my befuddlement, and exhaustion.  And I gently indulged a very brief, one-armed hug in return.

"It's good to meet you too ma'am.  I'm sorry...  My brain is moving a bit slowly after everything..."

She took one small step back, and gripped me gently by the elbows.  Mal had obviously spared me the task of re-treading my life's story yet again, but how up-to-date had she kept the Calders?  Eldora's quizzical expression, tinged with a flicker of worry, made it easy to guess.  But I went ahead and asked, to be sure.

"...Has Mal told you about anything that happened this morning?"

That was enough to push Doctor Calders to interject.  Arms crossed.  Eyes flashing.  Something in her tone made me wonder if she'd had an eye to the news.  Seen something about our 'encounter' with the Police.

"What kind of shit did the two of you stir?"

I inhaled, not quite sure what I was going to say, but Mal beat me to it.

"The kind that necessitates that we vacate the area as soon as possible.  I can handle the rest of the introductions while we get underway."

I looked back down to the PonyPad just in-time to see her give a little nod of the head in Eldora's direction.  I smiled, nodded, and handed the tablet over, which seemed to impart equal portions surprise, and glee, to the woman's face.

A small trill in my earpiece reminded me first that I was still wearing it, and confirmed for me in the same breath that Mal was still actively with me, just as much as she was actively present on the PonyPad.  The eternal utility of omnipresence.

I waited at the bottom of the boarding ramp, silently working the knuckles of each hand with the fingers of the opposite one, back and forth, half-listening as Mal introduced Selena, until the Calders had made their way all the way up, into the hatch, and out of ear-shot.

Mentally, I spent the precious few seconds of down-time trying to clear away my emotions, and scattered thoughts, replacing it all with a cast-off checklist.

It had been a long time since I'd prepped a ship for sea, and the last time I'd been just one on a crew of over a dozen.  Mercifully, most of it seemed to have stuck pretty well in my memory, and it wasn't fighting my efforts to dredge it up and assemble it into a punch list.

I knew Mal would step in if I forgot anything, and that assurance certainly helped, as did the fact that the ship was already mostly in seagoing configuration.  Mal had arranged it be left that way when it was vacated by the work crews for the last time, no doubt.

I found a set of heavy leather gloves in a compartment at the top of the ramp, and set about untying lines.  Rope burn is the *devil.*  And rope burn from thick mooring lines can leave you needing skin grafts.  And that's a 'good' outcome, relatively speaking.

You might think it's just as simple as tying or untying your shoelaces, but folks?  Ships weighed a *lot.*  

The lines themselves weighed more than most of you probably realize.

And just the little rise and fall of a passing boat's wake, or the waves on a calm day?  That water carries force like a moving freight train, more than sufficient to move those heavy ships and lines.

If you didn't know what you were about...  Didn't have an educated understanding of how lines move, where not to stand in case they break, why to loop them one way in certain cases, and the opposite in others...

On a dock, or on deck, rope can kill, outright.  Shockingly quickly.

Mal said nothing for several minutes, which told me that she understood the 'no distractions' nature of what I was doing, and reassured me that I hadn't missed anything to that point.

It took about fifteen minutes, but in the end it wasn't terrifically difficult to get the Maru untethered all by myself, right down to the high voltage shore-power umbilicals.

The hardest part was the last part.  I had to leave two lines, fore and aft, secured - It wouldn't do me any good if the ship drifted away without us on it, so those would have to be loosed from on-board.  Before I could do that, though, I had to wind-back the boarding ramp.

And that could only be done from the pier.

Two latching clamps up top disconnected the ramp from the ship, then a winch at the bottom wound the whole apparatus back onto the pier.  It was a minor work-out in and of itself.

With that done, I had to step a good two and a half feet out from the pier, and catch a series of rungs built directly into the side of the ship.  If I slipped, I'd fall one and a half stories into water, and I'd be in a very precarious position where the motion of the ship against the pier could crush me in the blink of an eye.

And to think...  People did this every day of their lives.  For pay.  For too little pay, all things considered.  Life before immortality was insane.

In the moment, I wasn't even nervous.  Physical risks like that didn't scare me the way they ought to have, and even if they had?  I was too emotionally wrung out to have felt anything regardless.

Before I knew it, I was standing on deck, catching my breath.  Mal gave me several moments' grace, before prodding me in the gentlest, round-about way.

"I can handle most of the finesse navigation using the computerized controls for the thrusters.  But I will need you on the helm to make it to sea.  A few of the controls are old-fashioned.  No digital hookups."

I nodded.  At this stage it really was a casual presumption that she could see me, somehow, no matter where I was.  Some people would have found that eerie, or disturbing - doubly so for having so swiftly become a reflexive given.  I found it deeply comforting.

Mal left me in silence again, as an aid to concentration, so that I could loose the last two lines.

The moment the aft one was free, I heard the thrum of an engine coming to life below decks.  Felt it in my feet too.  If you never experienced the power of a machine like that, it's hard to describe...  The best stab at it I could take would be that it was like the heartbeat of a Dragon, made of steam and clockwork.

Mal had mentioned 'thrusters.'  Some of you are probably picturing 'thrusters' of the kind found on a spacecraft, and most of the rest are asking 'what's a thruster?'

For our purposes, imagine big jets of water, like an oversized firehose, that can be toggled on and off at various points around a ship's hull, beneath the waterline.  The force of sucking in seawater and expelling it could be used to move a ship in various ways.

For those who have never sailed;  Rudders only have control authority - that is, they only have an effect on your steering - if the ship is moving.  Aircraft were much the same.

Thrusters give a ship not only additional maneuvering authority under power, but also fine-grain control, and the ability to move in more ways that just forward, and reverse, while at low speeds, where a rudder is ineffective.

If not for the thrusters, we'd've had to call for a tugboat to get underway.

I sighed, a little more deeply than I'd intended, rolled my shoulders, and took a brief moment to watch the pier begin to back away from us as a foamy froth churned up in the growing sliver of water between hull and concrete.

There it was again.

That sudden sense of eerie...  Finality.

Like I'd just taken my last ever steps on American soil, and barely paused to reflect on the reality of it all until the moment had already passed me by.

I shook myself, and started off towards the bridge, trying to keep in mind all the while;  It was only a feeling.

But it was a powerful one.

As I entered by the port-side aft hatch to the bridge, I glanced up at the ceiling and fired off a question that had been bubbling up for the better part of a minute.

"Where's Rodger?"

Mal graciously answered, rather than delving immediately into any instructions she might have for me.  

I could complete a 'pre-sail' checklist on my own anyhow, and as she spoke I started the process in earnest, taking stock of the controls methodically.

"Below, with Zeph, and the Calders.  I wanted to make sure you had some time to yourself, however brief, before things become invariably...  Busy.  And spare you the social expenditure of being present for introductions."

Bless her.  That was all I could think in the moment.  I said as much aloud, pausing briefly to smile, and exhale slowly, before resuming my checklist.

"I love you."

I swear, with Luna as my witness;  Her joy was so audible, that I could *see* her smile, as if she were right there on the bridge with me.

"I know."






September 16th 2013 | System Uptime 19:13:07:24


Chalk up another skill for ASI;  Mal handled every single aspect of communications for me as we made our way, gently at first, and then with ever increasing speed, out of the port of Los Angeles.

Navigation, too, actually.  

Piloting a ship is not easier than driving a car just because it appears to move more slowly, over longer distances.  There are rules, just like roads once had;  Lanes, and times for passing, and laws about right of way, and speed limits...  

And unlike a car?  In a ship the size of the Maru?  When you step on the brakes, it can take *miles* to shed even half your speed, or to make something as 'simple' as a ninety degree starboard turn.

Mal realized, without me having to say one word about it, that I was too frazzled to go on flawlessly remembering my internship.  She took over the radio first, and I listened in with vague amusement as she put on the voice of a much older nordic gentleman for her conversations with port control, and other vessels.

Fairly soon after we were under way, she started giving me specific speed, and steering guidance as well.  I didn't have to bother remembering any of the right of way rules, let alone sectional charts that I'd never seen to begin with.

I could just hold things steady until I heard something to the tune of;

"Reduce to seven knots, steer 268 true."

'Knots' because Terrans were crazy back then, and we had different measures of speed for every kind of vehicle, and not all of them standard.  Knots in this case would have been based on nautical miles.  We used them for ships and aircraft because a 'nautical mile' was, by then, tied directly in a one-to-one with 'minutes' of latitude and longitude, making it easier to do speed/distance/time calculations on charts.

Why call them 'knots' though, you ask?  Wouldn't 'nauts' make more sense, because 'nautical' miles?

Because before the days of GPS and anemometers, and what have you, sailors would tie knots in a rope, tie the rope to a log, throw the log overboard, and measure how many knots went past how quickly.

'Knots.'

Mal said 'True,' when giving bearings, because magnetic compass north, and geographic north, were different on Earth.  I know...  Strange concept in the here and now, but back then a crucial navigational skill was understanding the difference, and how to use both.

Mal was steering me based off the ship's GPS, rather than the analogue magnetic compass.  'True' north.

Also 'true' because 'relative' would instead refer to a number of degrees, starting from zero, based off the ship's current heading, as opposed to the fixed compass where zero would be due-north...

Right.  Boring things again.  Sorry.

Details matter.

We ran an entire planet based off this stuff, and for a *lot* of that history we did it without so much as a single computation device more complex than an abacus.  The least we can do is remember how it used to be, so that future generations can learn, if for no other reason than pure learning's sake.

*History* matters.

Oh sweet Celestia...  I sound like *such* a stereotypical crotchety old man...

Somewhere between ten and twenty five miles off the coast, I fell into a truly wonderful state of zen.  Nothing but sun, sky, sea, the wheel in my hands, and very occasionally the melody of Mal's voice to reassure me that I was on-track.

I have said before that I love driving backroads.  Driving the sea-lanes isn't quite as good to my mind...  Mountains will always be my 'favored terrain.'  But sailing sure does come *close...*

It couldn't last forever, of course.  But it was enough for me to reset my mental state, and regain some conversational functionality.  I didn't have to wait all that long to test that newly rejuvenated functionality either.

A couple of hours in, one of Mal's instructions came with an unexpected coda.

"Steer two seven zero true, maintain current throttle.  Doctor Calders is on her way up to see you."

I nodded, and found myself mimicking Mal's 'thrum of assent.'  I decided to relish a few more seconds of silence, before one of the hatches behind me clanked open.  I kept my eyes on the horizon as Rhonda let herself into the bridge space, pulled the hatch closed behind her, and found a seat, speaking all the while.

"I'll give you this, Jim;  This ain't no 'bush league' operation you've got here.  Mal was not exaggerating her talents for 'materials acquisition.' "

Foals, Fledgelings 'Bush League' is...  You know what?  Ask someone who cares more about sports than I do.  I have some idea what it means, but I'm such a hopeless nerd that I'm sure I'd never do it justice.

I snorted, and finally made brief eye contact, with a half-smile.

"I take it that means you have everything you need?"

She nodded, and threaded her hands behind her head, leaning back in what I presumed was meant to be the navigator's chair.

"Everything, and then some.  I can get started on some of the foundational tasks tonight...  In about four days?  You'll have what you need."

I blinked, and then turned to fix the Doctor with a shocked, questioning stare.  She seemed confused by my response, so I shrugged, and did my best to explain.

"I'm just..."

I fumbled the words for a moment, but as I turned back to the task of steering the Maru, things clicked together again, and I blurted out the answer before it could slip off once more.

"...It's nice to feel like we're making some progress against the clock.  For once."

I glanced her way again, to see that Rhonda was nodding slowly, sagely.

"Mal showed us what Celestia has planned.  Laid it all out...  The Experience Centers, the chairs...  All of it..."

Her gaze turned suddenly vacant, and her words dipped to a murmur as she stared out at the horizon, empty for the moment of other ships within visual range.  We were 'off the beaten path' as sealanes go.

When the Doctor  took up her thoughts again, her voice was halting.  A little breathless.  There was absolutely none of the resigned 'too busy for this nonsense' bravado from before.  It made my mental image of her suddenly much more complex, and layered.

"...It didn't...  Seem---"

As she trailed off, I found myself providing the missing word, as if prodded.

"Real."

I turned just in time to see her nod, slowly.  Her face left her emotions a bit of a mystery, but one thing I could see for sure;  Rhonda Calders was taking a very different path to accepting the end of the world, than anyone I'd encountered so far.





One painfully visible common thread, to that point, had always been remorse.  I'd felt it, my parents had wrestled with it, Rodger...  Rodger was probably still deep in it.  Even Mal and Zeph had expressed sadness at the wholesale loss of the planet, in their own unique ways.

It made Doctor Calders' lack of sorrow that much more eerily conspicuous.

I saw awe, and a sense that it would take time to wrap the brain around the scope of the reality...  Those were common threads too.  And I saw something less common, but which I certainly understood, and felt in similar measure;  I saw a kind of begrudging respect for Celestia's sheer power, and potential.

But no remorse.  No tears for Earth.

I blinked slowly, and stared, trying desperately to parse what I was seeing in lieu of grief.  Calders forged ahead, gaining momentum, either unaware that I was staring, or uncaring.  Impossible to say which.

"Even knowing what I know.  Expecting what I expected...  Even meeting Mal...  It wasn't real.  Until I saw the chip.  The thing that's going in the back of your skull."

Calders drummed her fingers on the console to the left of her chair.  I found myself chewing my bottom lip, and had to make a conscious effort to stop as she continued speaking in, what I now realize, was a sort of reverent cadence...

There was something more there.  Something that gave me chills.

"Something about seeing it...  Knowing that it wasn't designed by a Human mind.  Made by Human hands.  That it's just...  One of thousands.  Maybe more..."

The words were the ones you might expect to hear from someone terrified of a newly realized inevitability.  The inescapable momentum of the plans, long in-motion, of an intelligence as far beyond that of an Earther, as yours is above an inchworm.

But the tone...

I shivered, as Calders finished.  She was smiling.

And something about that smile left me with a gnawing hollowness inside.

"...Suddenly it all turned so very...  Real."

I let out something halfway between a grim chuckle, and a cough.

"I'm sorry."

I didn't know what else to say.  'I'm sorry' was the gist of what I'd said to just about everyone else...  An expected, and genuine, sentiment of empathy.  We were all on the same sinking ship.  A metaphor that I realized, with a silent wince, was not perhaps in the best taste considering where I was standing.

Calders' gaze snapped up, and her face hardened.

"Why?"

My breath got hung up in my throat, as the lightbulb finally came on, and I saw her reaction for what it was.  Just in time for her to say as much aloud.

"Jim...  This was coming for us all, one way or another...  And to tell you the truth?  I'm *glad.*"

I exhaled slowly, and licked my lips.  Calders took my silence as leave to elaborate, but in truth?  I was just...  Baffled.  A little frightened, even.  

I hated plenty of things about our world...  I did not need anyone to tell me the calculus of pitting Earth's reality, with all its horrific flaws, against a world in which no one would ever need to fear the ticking of the clock, ever again.

"From what Mal told us?  It sounds like you had a pretty charmed family life.  You have also seen enough, now, to know that this world can be mighty cruel..."

I certainly knew what chains we stood to be free of at last.  War.  Poverty.  Fear.  Pain.

Dysphoria.

Just to name a few.  But...

That didn't mean I was remorseless about everything else we stood to lose in trade.

"...But you've never been on the receiving side of the *half* of it."

I shuddered a little bit.  I couldn't help myself.  Something about the way she hissed the word 'half...'  I caught another glimpse of the angry Dragon inside.

Angry...  And wounded.  So deeply wounded, I realized, that she was positively *gleeful* at the idea of seeing Humanity, and its power of self-determination, parted.

I suddenly realized I didn't have any context, whatsoever, to truly understand, or empathize.  I'd suffered plenty.  But much of it had been as a result of merely being born different.  Calders had faced that, for a start...  And then spent her life suffering at the hands of her fellow Earthlings.

It is one thing to say you understand cruelty.  Another thing to witness...  I'd seen what had happened to Selena...  That had set a lot of wheels turning in my mind...

But it is a different *reality* to be on the receiving end.

"If Celestia wants to burn down every last Human edifice...  Replace our world with one where no one will ever have to..."

Her voice caught, and her eyes glistened suddenly.  A memory so horrid, it could not be named.  I had theories...  I still do...  The place where we lived, back then?

It was not kind to those who were different.

Her expression slowly became a thin, pressed, painfully articulate smile.  And all I could do was nod, to show I at least understood.

"...Honey?  If Celestia wants to make a better world?  That's just *fine* with me."

Whatever Calders had been through?  One thing was imminently clear;  It was a cut deep enough that she would shed no tears for the ending of the Earth.

But it was not, and still is not, my place to ask.  Nor to share that speculation.

I wanted to say something...  Anything...  If only to comfort her with the assurance that I cared about her pain...  But I couldn't find anything I thought would be appropriate.  Silence held for upwards of half a minute, and then the opening was gone.

Calders inhaled to speak again.  Her voice was suddenly scale-clad, and sure, once more.  Not even a hint of pain in the eddies and undercurrents.

"Eldora is convinced you and Malacandra can deliver on a little more than that besides.  And...  God help me I'm starting to believe that too..." 

She inclined her head in my direction, rose, and tapped one cupped palm pensively against the top of her closed left fist, before buttoning up the conversation with her usual 'no nonsense' vocal edge.

"...Don't you *dare* tell me you're sorry the world we knew is ending.  Because I sure as hell am not."






September 16th 2013 | System Uptime 19:22:19:03


Mal was kind enough to spare me the energy expenditure of taking dinner with everyone else.  It was an experience I knew I both needed, and wanted....  But not after the day I'd had.

*Especially* not after the chill Calders had left in my bones, in the wake of our conversation.

So I stayed with the helm until well after dark, to a point where Mal could keep the ship on a safe course using only wire-guided systems, and she did her part by coaxing everyone else to the dinner table during that time.

Which left the galley blissfully dark, and empty, for me.

I confess:  I had ice cream and hot chocolate for dinner, and sat staring out at the stars with all the lights off.  I didn't even say anything to Mal, though I knew she was there.  I just sat, and soaked, in sugar, and starlight.  And silence.

There was something uncanny about the moment, and I found myself clinging to that sense of strange half-familiarity.  I'd spent some very happy days during my internship at sea, hiding away in little nooks and crannies...  Just reveling in the isolation.

It felt like emotional time travel, sitting there in the dark with - funnily enough - the same flavor of ice cream I'd most preferred during that original voyage.  Chocolate chip cookie dough, if you were wondering.

As the broader implications of my conversation with Doctor Calders had begun to sink in, something else had risen to the forefront of my emotional turmoil.  A giddy kind of mix of worry, anticipation, and...  Something I couldn't quite place.

'Four days.'

Perhaps a little less.

In four days...

Mal's voice shook me from the thought spiral.  It took me several seconds to catch up, and unspool what she'd said into something I could properly parse.

"Jim?  I am sorry to interrupt your mental energy recovery cycle again...  But I believe Rodger needs your help.  In an emotional sense."

After a long pause, I slowly reached for the lid of the ice-cream tub, and groaned my way back to a standing position.

"What makes you say that?"

With Mal's next words, I knew that my long, long day, was about to suffer an extension.  And I was grateful I'd had at least a little time to put some kind of fuel back in the tank.  Physically, and mentally.

"Because he's sitting on the starboard bridge lookout...  Crying his eyes out."









The Magic of Friendship - Reach out and formulate a friendship with somepony else. - Awarded multiple times, once for each friend - “As soon as I saw you five, I knew a grand adventure was about to happen.”


Second Opinion - Achieved when Dr. Calders joins your party. - “The Doctor will see you now, sir.”


Assemble - Gather all of your companions together. - Special Achievement - “Cause if we can’t protect the Earth, you can be damn sure we’ll avenge it.”


Mean Gryphs- Ride a vehicle with all of your friends. - “Get in loser, we’re going to advocate.”