//------------------------------// // Virus Alert: Purge // Story: How the Tantabus Parses Sleep // by Rambling Writer //------------------------------// Astral stared at the paper before her, at the free verse that was one of the spells that made up the Tantabus’s components. It was as dense as anything she’d seen before and, as such, repeatedly smashing her head against it wasn’t going to break through it. Not now, not anytime soon, not ever. There were some things you just couldn’t force your way through. To call the Tantabus intricate was to undersell it. The thing’s construction required leaps of logic and lateral thinking that Astral had trouble imagining. Every part of it subtly influenced every other part in some way or another — and that wasn’t an exaggeration. Whenever Astral applied a tiny bit of energy to one small spell, just to see what it would do, the whole Tantabus buzzed in strange ways. And she was supposed to figure out where it had come from? She couldn’t figure out what that single star did. At least it hadn’t gotten back up and tried to escape in the week since she’d started studying it. That was something. The only something she had. The air opened up and Moondog fluttered out. “How’s it going?” she asked. “You know,” grunted Astral. “The usual.” “That’s a bummer.” Moondog looked around at the piles of scribbled scratch paper scattered around. They took up nearly every available flat surface in the lab, save for those Astral had cleared away to write on. “Guess we’ll need to do another trash hauling already, huh?” “Yep. All of it.” “…All of it.” “Every single scrap. None of it’s helped me.” Astral gave one pile a stinkeye. “And it better be quick or I might get convicted for arson.” “That bad?” “That-” Astral felt ready to slap Moondog. Especially since she knew she could take it. “Your Nibs, what am I even looking for?” “Something that tells us where the Tantabus came from.” Astral glared at Moondog and said through gritted teeth, “Which is…?” Moondog shrugged. “Not a clue.” “And if you don’t know what to look for, how am I supposed to know? I’m getting nowhere!” “Astral-” With a sigh, Astral hopped off her stool and started pacing. “Princess, I know you’re just going to give me some ‘believe in yourself’ claptrap. Don’t. I know I can’t do this. You’re expecting- a- four-year-old to do calculus with no training.” She whirled on Moondog, preemptively jabbing a hoof. “And if you even THINK about referencing Twilight-” “She actually didn’t manage calculus until she was six, but I wasn’t going to, anyway.” Astral rolled her eyes. “Sure you weren’t,” she muttered. “I’m probably lucky all those sleeping potions aren’t messing with my… circadian rhythm or whatever it’s called.” The Tantabus was most easily studied in dreams. Astral could take notes most easily in the real world. Frequent dimensional shifting got complicated. “Can we at least call in Luna? She made the thing to begin with! Or something like it.” “Hrng.” Moondog chewed on her lip and let her ears flop back and forth. “I didn’t want to interrupt her too much…” “She was fine with coming over a week ago!” “Principle of the thing,” mumbled Moondog, “wanted to handle this myself… Fine. How’s this: tonight, I’ll ask Mom for help. The two of you can work in your dreams. If she doesn’t want to help-” “Not gonna happen.” “-then you can take a break for, I don’t know, a week. If she does want to help, I’ll check back in a week and we’ll see if the brick wall’s still there. And… I don’t know, we’ll figure something out.” “Good enough,” said Astral. For some reason, she felt like she needed to stretch. Maybe just getting some help was unwinding her tension. As she arched her back, she said, “So does this mean I can take the rest of the day off?” “…Y’know what, sure. Sorry I…” Moondog made a vague circular sort of gesture. “…put too much on you.” A nervous grin. “Eh, it happens,” Astral said with a shrug. “This isn’t the sort of thing you’re good at. And if it were anything besides the second-most advanced golem in Equestria, I’d probably have a decent shot at it. Just not you, version 0.5.” “Still, you’d think a mental-analysis machine would have a better handle on the mental acuity of her minions. Now get on home. Relax. I’ll tell the staff to clean this all up.” “Thanks.” Astral rolled her shoulders — had stress really made them that tight? — and headed for the door. “See you tonight.” “You, too.” Moondog saluted and vanished. Whether she was dreaming or awake, Astral did her work in the lab. It created a continuity of ideas. Or something. At the very least, making sure her work was always in the same place made her thoughts easier to recall. Dreaming about the lab also meant Astral could experience frictionless swivel chairs, which was pretty neat. As she waited for Moondog to show up, Astral whiled away the time by spinning around and around and around. Her mind kept trying to think about the difficulty of analyzing the Tantabus, but she refused to accept its chicanery and continued spinning. After practically no time at all, a door appeared on the wall, letting Moondog and Luna enter. In spite of her spinning, Astral managed to wave in their direction. “Hey.” Her chair came to an abrupt but unjolted stop, facing Moondog. “Hey,” said Moondog. “Obviously, Mom agreed to help-” (A little spotlight went on above Luna’s head; she scowled and flicked it away.) “-so, uh, yeah. I’ll… leave you to it, back in a week.” Moondog dropped the Tantabus’s box on one of the tables, paused, nodded, and backed out of the door. Immediately, Astral’s chair resumed spinning. Astral stuck out a hoof and dragged it along the ground to bring her rotation to a stop. “You ever spin on these, Luna?” she asked. It was a stupid question, more space-filling than anything. To imagine someone like Luna sitting on a swivel chair in the first- “Frequently,” said Luna. Astral stared. Luna stared back. “They are fun,” she intoned, as if that explained everything. She conjured her own chair, sat on it, and gave it a kick. Astral actually heard her giggling. “Oh,” Astral said. It was all she could say. “Uh…” Luna’s chair came to a too-swift halt. She was smiling. “For some unknowable reason, sophonts cannot glimpse a swivel chair without wishing to spin on it. And I am no exception.” She lowered her voice. “And neither is Celestia.” Astral was ninety percent sure she felt her brain break. She felt something. “Now, then, Moondog has, naturally, brought me up to speed on the situation, although I suspect she is being a tad… overdramatic.” Luna set the box between them and carefully nudged it open. A starry, negative-space blob oozed turgidly out: the Tantabus, fully inactive. “What have you learned from this thus far?” “That you’re an absolutely brilliant mare with more brains in one hair than I’ve got in my whole body.” “…So Moondog was not exaggerating when she said you have learned absolutely nothing.” Astral shook her head. “Not at all, Luna. Not. At. All. I… I don’t know where to begin. I don’t know where to begin on looking at where to begin. This thing…” She grabbed a wisp of the Tantabus and waved it in Luna’s face. “It’s… It’s a sunblasted miracle is what it is. It’s so complicated I’m having trouble just calling it a machine.” “Hmm. At least we shall not be going over well-trodden ground. If I remember correctly…” Luna reached a hoof into the space of the Tantabus and nudged one of the stars. It shone dully and didn’t twinkle, prompting a frown from Luna. “That is… odd.” Astral took a close look at that particular star. It looked exactly like the others. “‘Stroke chin in thought while musing scientifically’ odd or ‘it’s waking up, run for the hills’ odd?” “The former. The energy here is… out of step. Out of phase. …Off.” “And it’s one of those things where you can’t tell how it’s off, right?” “Quite.” Luna’s horn glowed and a haze spread throughout the Tantabus. One by one, each start twitched once, with no twinkling. “If the original Tantabus were a famous portrait — say, Equestrian Gothic — then this would be very nearly that same portrait, but a single hue off in color. A change you can notice but cannot fully identify.” “Huh.” Astral glanced at the lab’s exit, where Moondog had left. “Should we call Her Nibs back and vivisect her?” “Not yet. We lack any samples to compare to her. It would be arcanosect, besides. Still…” Luna twisted her neck back and forth, producing an impressive series of cracks, and grinned. “We now have somewhere to start. Can you take notes for me?” Astral pulled a quill and paper from the air. “Does a bear poop in the woods?” “Not if they’re visiting Fluttershy. But unless you and she are having a sleepover this very night, that shan’t be an issue, so let us begin.” Luna closed her eyes as her horn glowed. The outline of the Tantabus writhed as little bolts of light zipped from star to star. Astral tentatively poked her own magic in to see what was going on. She pulled back out when she saw a single spell and immediately got the sneaking suspicion she could write a doctoral thesis on that one spell alone, once she understood it. Sitting back and taking notes it was. In the middle of this, Luna glanced up. “‘Her Nibs’?” After a moment of being thrown, Astral shrugged. “It kinda started as spite, to be honest. I didn’t want to admit what she was doing for me, so I told her I wanted to call her that… But I forgot who I was talking to and she ended up liking it…” Nothing in the dream realm had been (non-dream) unusual since the Tantabus’s capture, but Moondog still monitored it a bit more closely than usual, just in case. Every now and then, she’d cast out a net, so to speak, to get a broader feel of Equestria’s dreams than she normally did. Time after time, she came back with the only strangeness being dream strangeness. By all accounts, that particular problem was over. But she couldn’t stop thinking about it. The Tantabus had to have come from somewhere. Automata that advanced didn’t just happen. And if Astral and Mom couldn’t figure out where that “where” was, then that could be an itch she’d be picking at for the rest of forever. Still, it was out of her hooves. Astral and Mom had it under control. And she couldn’t just poke her head in at random points to see what was going on with them. Right? “What do you think?” she asked the nearest dream construct. “I think bread should be eaten butter-side down,” the basilisk declared. “Heathen,” Moondog said as she slipped out of the dream. Given how much ponies needed to wait, it was a wonder they didn’t go mad. Moondog at least had a constant stream of ever-changing duties to keep herself distracted. Ponies could finish things and be left with nothing to do. But a princess’s work was never done, so- Something vibrated through the fabric of the unconscious, giving Moondog pause. It was… less like a tracking spell and more like a searching spell. Her essence seemed to respond to it, sending little pings back. Another copy of the spell came through a moment later, slightly stronger. This caster seemed to be looking specifically for her. Using a rather inefficient method, but okay. Another ding, and this time, Moondog let a spell of her own ride on the return signal. It wasn’t long before she was getting back data on the caster, but the data was strange. They were… sort of Mom, but not really. Yes? No. No? Also no. Yes. Possibly? Maybe. Sort of? Kind of. Were they? spellcaster.equals(mom); return: --Error; UnknownException e …Huh. The pulses were getting stronger as the caster homed in on her. And homed in fast. So, if they were this skilled at dream magic… the Tantabus’s creator? Worth a shot. Moondog severed the space between them. And from unreality came… …Mom. And not Mom. The alicorn facing Moondog looked like… an artist’s impression of Mom, with the ethereal mane and the blue coat and the moon cutie mark. But at the same time, she’d been jazzed up and made even more dramatic. For starters, she was tall. Tall as Aunt Celly, at least. Her regalia were silver and maybe a bit overdesigned (she was wearing pearl earrings, for crying out loud!). And there was something about her, something a touch… unfriendly. But it was easy to ignore that last part as she gawked soundlessly at Moondog like she’d never seen a dream construct before. She looked downright dorky. Moondog tentatively raised a hoof and waved. “Um. Hey.” That seemed to jar the alicorn from her stupor. She swallowed and asked, “Tantabus?” “Uh…” Moondog scratched her head. “Yes? Not really anymore, though, that’s like knowing Twilight because she was Celestia’s student and not because she’s-” self.get(idea); “Actually, wait, are you talking about me or-” “Do you still know what you were made for?” the alicorn asked. Her voice had gained a sudden bite. “Well, technically absolutely,” Moondog said, “but you’ve got me-” “Technically absolutely?” growled the alicorn. “Speak plainly! How can you technically know something?” Moondog raised a hoof declaratively. “By the question you’re asking me not being the one I’m answering? You’ve got me confused with something else. I think.” “That’s quite unlikely,” said the alicorn, pawing at the lack of ground. “Unless there’s another oneiromantic golem running around across the dreamscape.” “Like the self-unaware knockoff version of me I handled just last week?” A pause, then the alicorn planted her face in her hoof, mumbling, “Oh, stars above. How could I just happen to pick a timeline with another Tantabus?” Timeline? Timeline? …Oh dear. “You’re… not… from around here, are you?” asked Moondog carefully. Because she could easily handle anything in this Equestria, but if the alicorn was from another Equestria- The alicorn’s head snapped up; Moondog flinched back at the sudden anger burning in her eyes. “Where is it?” she snarled. “Where’s what?” stalled Moondog. Her mind was racing. The Tantabus was trying to spread nightmares. If this alicorn had wanted that- “The Tantabus! The knockoff!” the alicorn bellowed. “It’s mine! I will not have that effort wasted by some- by some- by you! Where is it?” “Hey, hold on,” said Moondog. She did her best to keep her voice light. “The Tantabus was spreading nightmares among my little ponies-” (The alicorn’s ears folded back at that.) “-and I stopped it-” “You WHAT?” “-so I think I’d like a reason for why you’re here.” Of course, given how mercurial the alicorn seemed, that request could turn out… poorly. But she needed to know. The alicorn glared at Moondog, her jaw clenched, her entire body wavering slightly as she breathed. “Let’s calm down and start over, shall we?” Hopefully, it wasn’t condescending. The alicorn was like nitroglycerin: a few light jabs away from exploding. “Princess Moondog. Lady of Dreams.” She extended a hoof towards the alicorn. Her gesture was ignored as the alicorn held her head high. “Queen Selene, Oneiromancer Supreme,” she said stiffly. “The Tantabus was a creation of mine.” Sounded like an alternate-timeline version of Mom. (Or maybe the other way around.) That explained a lot. “And what was it doing here?” It took Selene long enough to answer for the time to register as silence. “It escaped from my world to yours. I have… come to retrieve it.” “For what?” “Does it matter?” “Considering it attacked my ponies, yeah, I’d say it does.” Selene looked at Moondog. Moondog told herself to remain still. Selene was keeping herself in check, but it was a close thing. She was livid about… something. You could probably feel it even if you weren’t mentally attuned. “Do you still have it?” Selene asked. She was trying to keep her voice level, but it was wound up tight. “My question first.” “Ah. So that’s how it is.” Selene looked Moondog in the eyes and said, “Tantabus location.” And right when Moondog realized she was thinking about Astral- --Error; OutsideInterferenceException e The spell stabbed into Moondog’s thoughts like it was nothing, in and out before she even knew what was going on. But as she staggered back, head reeling, so did Selene; she dropped to her knees, retching. “Your memories,” Selene gasped, “are so- so- What- are you?” Moondog raised her head and brushed her mane out of her eyes. “Like you said, oneiromantic golem. Like I said, Princess of Dreams.” But she needed to get a message out. Astral and Mom needed to know. SpellMessage sm = new SpellMessage(); sm.compose(); Selene’s eyes narrowed and her horn started glowing. Moondog didn’t let that stop her. “I am responsible for my world’s dreams. Just like you are yours. So I presume you understand when I say that I don’t like you-” “You’re THREE?” Selene bellowed. astral, mom, “Your memories can be read just like the Tantabus’s,” Selene hissed, “and yet you’re- sapient! At not even three years old! How?” “Honestly, no one’s really sure,” Moondog said with a shrug. “It just sorta happened.” alcorn frm other world here, version of mom “But as the Princess of Dreams-” “At three?” Selene laughed derisively. “What sort of worldline is this?” seems angry, looking for tntbs Moondog snorted. “The one you’re in, like it or not,” she said. “What was the Tantabus doing here?” “Like you would know!” snapped Selene. trying to stall, be ready if she finds you “This world is so stable a three-year-old can manage it! I bet you’ve never faced a day of hardship in your life! Never experienced rejection or despair or-” Hold up. If this was a multiversal version of Mom, then- -- moondog -maybe she was going through the same things Mom had- sm.send(astral); sm.send(mom); -so maybe- The flicker of magic as Moondog sent the message was barely anything, yet Selene’s ears snapped up. She felt it. And before Moondog could react, she was gone. Following the message, maybe? If that was the case… Moondog already knew where she’d end up- self.setLocation(mom.getLocation()); “Interesting,” murmured Luna as she sifted through Astral’s notes. “Very, very interesting…” “How?” asked Astral. Luna had done her best, really, but the expert could only dumb things down for the amateur for so long before slipping back into arcanobabble because it was what she knew. Astral had been able to follow maybe fifty percent of what Luna had said. “The differences are becoming clearer. I can see enough of a pattern to make a stab at what they are. Although…” Luna’s voice trailed off and she flicked her tail. “Luna, if you think I won’t believe the difference because it’s weird, you should take a look at the last year.” “…Indeed.” Luna took a breath. The air ripped open and Moondog slid out. “The Tantabus was built by another version of Mom from an alternate timeline and she wants it back and I think she’s coming here right now and she’s really aggressive about it,” she said, very quickly. “Gimme.” She scooped the Tantabus back into its box and tucked it away. Silence. From the look on Luna’s face, that was exactly what she’d been planning to say. “Alternate timeline?” asked Astral. “Yes.” Somehow, that was so strange it looped back around to logical. “For what purpose?” asked Luna. “I don’t know,” said Moondog, “but from the way she was talking-” Suddenly, Astral felt like her head was in a vise. The dream around her warped, walls bending, colors twisting, interobjects flickering in and out of being. She held her head and moaned, collapsing onto her haunches. She forced herself to breathe, in, out, in, out- «Where is it?» a voice slithered through her mind, dripping with appeal detached from words or tone. «I know you have it.» “Astral!” Moondog was already at her side. “What’s going on?” «Tell them nothing,» hissed the voice. «If you do, I-» “She’s here,” gasped Astral. “The-” She flinched and bit back a scream as the vise tightened. “Apologies,” Luna said. Her horn glowed; for the briefest of moments, Astral felt like her thoughts had been submerged in oil. Then all pressure vanished from her mind- -as space before her splintered. A massive blue alicorn bled into being, greater and more terrible than Luna, clad in starlight. She was glaring down at Astral with a shocking fury; her throat dry, Astral awkwardly shuffled across the floor away from her. Immediately, Moondog and Luna both placed themselves between Astral and the alicorn, spreading their wings like a shield. The alicorn’s gaze snapped to Luna. “Ah,” she said, her mouth twisting into a sneer. “So there is a proper vanguard of dreams.” She glanced up and down Luna’s shorter stature, then at Moondog. “Relatively speaking.” Luna pawed at the ground and dug a hoof in, like she was ready to charge. “My daughter is perfe-” “Your daughter? Your daughter? You call that- flighty pile of nonsense your DAUGHTER?” As the yelling continued, Moondog glanced at Astral. “If you want to leave, go right ahead,” she whispered. Astral didn’t even bother responding; she just forced herself awake. She was panting heavily and her heart was running a mile a minute. And she was alive. Once she stopped breathing like she’d just sprinted from one side of Canterlot to the other, Astral clicked on the lamp and grabbed a random book from the nearest shelf. She didn’t know whether alternate Luna could follow her — or even would follow her — but she was willing to bet that she could stop that from happening by not dreaming. And not knowing what in Tartarus was going on with Moondog. The words didn’t register as she read. She was too anxious. But at least she wasn’t dreaming. Moondog glanced at Astral and readied herself. “If you want to leave, go right ahead,” she whispered. The dream collapsed almost immediately, dumping Moondog, Mom, and Selene in the collective unconscious. But emotions were running high enough that none of them really noticed. Mom and Selene didn’t even seem to have paused shooting barbs at each other. “That ‘flighty pile of nonsense’ has more than proven herself, time and again!” declared Mom. “How soft is your worldline that she-” Selene jabbed a hoof at Moondog. “-is sufficient?” “It is-” argument.break(); “Hey!” Moondog yelled, flowing between the two alicorns. “Cool it!” Mom began, “Are you hearing what she-” “Cool it,” Moondog said to her. She spun around to look Selene in the eye. “Cool it.” “Do you think,” snorted Selene, “that you have any-” “Cool it.” Selene stopped talking, although Moondog got the feeling it was more to humor her than anything else. But quiet was quiet. Moondog started pacing between the two of them. “So,” she said. “We… really got off on the wrong hoof here, but I think we can work this out. Selene, why don’t you tell us what you want with the Tantabus?” “I have a better idea,” said Selene. “Why don’t you just give it back to me and let me go on my way? You will never see it or me again.” Part of Moondog was tempted, if she was honest. She could just cut all this short right now and never worry about it again. But she wanted to know, especially if Selene wanted to use it for nefarious purposes. “Because I think you owe me an explanation for why you hurled it into my dominion. I mean, you don’t see me doing that to you, right?” “Don’t think you can toy with me,” snapped Selene. “If just asking you questions is toying with you, then I think I can, yeah.” “This is the thing you chose to replace you?” Selene asked Mom. “This insolent little-” “You allowed a creation of yours to run roughshod across our dreams,” Mom replied frostily, “came here unannounced while expecting the world, and have attacked her charges, yet all she asks is an explanation. I would say she has been nothing but reasonable.” Low enough that Selene couldn’t hear but Moondog could, she muttered, “More reasonable than I would have been.” Selene stood, staring at Moondog, seething. Her horn flared, the dreamworld flexed- A lot of things happened at once. Selene’s spell tried diving into Moondog’s mind. Moondog, already expecting such an attack, managed to throw up a shield to blunt the worst of it, but not all. Mom reacted almost as swiftly, yanking the magic in her own direction, towards her own thoughts. Then, just as Selene tried to turn her attention to Mom, Moondog seized the opportunity and drove the probe back towards Selene. As it was pulled in every direction, the spell split apart, joined them together, and plunged down, down, down. And that deep, everyone’s memories washed over each other, each one knowing the history of the other two. Moondog knew Mom’s past. There was nothing new there. But Selene’s- Equestria. Not so different from this one. There was still a cosmic diarchy: King Solaris of the sun and his wife Queen Selene of the moon. They went through the motions, with the night being neglected in favor of the day as the lunar alicorn’s resentment grew and festered. Finally, she refused to lower the moon. And Solaris talked her down. They talked. They argued. They shouted. They raged. They fought. Selene explained herself. Solaris listened. And he vowed to change. They were equals, he said. It was not right for her to be shunned so. Changes would be made, changes to ensure that both were given the respect they deserved. Selene had requests, requests Solaris gladly accepted. For the first time in too long, Selene felt hopeful. -was- Yet any changes were always minor. Immortals could easily become stuck in their ways. Selene’s requests became smaller and smaller and still were not met, despite Solaris’s assurances. He would get to it eventually. What had once been a source of light simply became another duty unfulfilled. More and more, the most ponies knew of Selene was the worst day of her life. Rumors spread. Neglect turned to fear. Again the rot gnawed, growing deeper than before. After a thousand years, Selene had had enough. She would make them love her. She would be needed. Upon them would be unleashed a horrifying creature of nightmares, one capable of breaching even the strongest of mental defenses, one the most powerful of mages, even the great Solaris, would be helpless against. Then Selene would step it, stopping it with barely a thought. And oh, how they would love her, exalt her, sing her praises. She would be the most adored creature in all the land for stopping that monstrosity. They needn’t know she had been the one to create it in the first place. Nor of the alternate world she’d use to train it in the ways of nightmares. -interesting. dreamers.split(); An unfocused surge of magic broke the three from the reverie and sent them sprawling. Mental ache left Moondog struggling to put her mind back together. Selene kept collapsing as she tried to stand. And Mom just lay there, panting. Then she raised her head, just enough to look at Selene. In a small voice, she said, “I’m sorry.” “…You’re sorry?” Selene’s voice was quiet, her laugh bitter. “You’re sorry. You’re sorry?” she bellowed. “You didn’t go through a scrap of what I did! You never had your second chance dashed! You caved long before I did and now ponies trip over themselves to give you adulation! Your position is so easy that you can pass it to an immature yearling who barely leaves dreams! You don’t know what you’re even sorry about!” The silence rang. Mom’s face twisted as her anger boiled over and she stood up. It was like a kick in the tail for Moondog. Mom was in a Mood, and it was only a matter of time before the situation completely fell apart. Moondog ran between Mom and Selene and spread her wings, speaking quickly. “Mom, Mom, wait-” “You cannot talk to this sort.” Mom’s voice fell like a hammer on an anvil. She didn’t push Moondog away, but she didn’t let up her ire on Selene. “She has let her trauma breed arrogance.” “Seriously, Mom, let me-” “She cares not about the damage she will inflict. We cannot let the Tantabus fall into the hooves of this-” “Luna.” Luna froze and looked at Moondog, jaw slightly open. Moondog looked back, impassive. Then Luna bowed. Her voice was emotionless when she said, “As you command, Your Highness.” She backed out of the dream and Mom was gone. “Do you see what’s going on?” asked Selene, finally standing up. “Your own mother doesn’t trust you. You had to order her to stop. Pull rank.” She sneered. “And you sent away one of your closest allies.” “Mom has personal issues with you,” Moondog replied. “She wouldn’t be at her best.” “And her worst would still be an asset. Look at you. Three years old. Doing nothing but you were built to do. Never given a choice. And when Luna decided she’d had enough, she dropped her duties on you. You call yourself a princess? You’re just a slave dressing herself as a glamor artist in her mistress’s makeup.” “So?” Selene’s pace actually faltered. One of her ears twitched in surprise. “What?” “Let’s say that’s true,” said Moondog. “So what? It’d be a problem for a pony, sure, but-” self.setAppearance(SPECIES.Griffon); “-not a pony.” She flexed her talons. “I’m not built like you. That doesn’t matter to me.” self.setAppearance(SPECIES.Default); “Besides, even if all that did matter, I’d still be here. I still wouldn’t let you have the Tantabus. And, sure, you could rip it from me, but then Mom would have a much better reason to go after you. Regardless of whatever world you’re in.” “To say the least,” murmured Selene. “Which means we are at… an impasse.” Moondog dropped onto her haunches. “Let’s talk.” Selene squinted at Moondog, seeming almost amused. “You are certainly a determined one.” Moondog just shrugged. Slowly, Selene settled down and looked Moondog in the eye. Her wings twitched restlessly. “What. Do you want. To talk. About?” “Still thinking. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d get this far.” “All I want is the return of the Tantabus and an appreciation of my duties. Why can’t you let me have this one indulgence?” “Look, I’m sorry for you. I sympathize. I really, really do. But at the end of the night, you’re attacking ponies and you don’t care.” “They’re not your ponies,” said Selene. “Why do you care about them?” “The fact that they’re not my ponies doesn’t matter. I just don’t like the idea of people getting hurt.” “You don’t know them!” Selene roared as she got to her feet. Her wings flared and venom dripped from every syllable. “I give my life to them, and I receive nothing in return! Not a ‘thank you’, not even acknowledgement! Year after year, decade after decade, century after century! They don’t deserve you!” She took a deep breath, folded her wings, and sat back down. “I was once like you,” she said. “Young. Eager to please. Hopeful. Then the world happened. My own husband pushed me aside for the adulation of others. Ponies stopped examining my role. They started avoiding me because I didn’t quite fit in their neat little box of respectability. And now, the Tantabus is all I have left. I will use it.” Her wings opened slightly and she leaned forward like she was ready to pounce as she snarled, “Regardless of what you think.” That was when Moondog got it. Everything Selene talked about was about how she’d been treated. Nothing about how she felt. Selene was admitting to trauma, but not vulnerability. A lot of people — ponies and otherwise — hated that, for some reason. The worst things could happen to them, but they’d never talk about being scared or uncertain, like doing so would make them lesser, unworthy, even if they were already at their lowest possible point. Instead, they puffed out their chests and put on a show, because heavens forbid they be anything less than perfect. They’d sooner rip their heart to shreds than tell anyone that it hurt even the tiniest bit. Including themselves. And if they didn’t hurt, then everything they were doing, they were obviously doing with a clear head. It would be untouched by emotion. They didn’t need help. They didn’t need someone to pull them back and go, “Whoa, there.” Their decisions were good. Because they didn’t hurt. But there were ways you could make them confront that. “Selene?” “Yes, Princess?” Selene spat. “Do you need a hug?” Selene eyed Moondog, her lips curling derisively. “Oh, child,” she said softly, disdainfully. “I am the Guardian of the Moon, the Protector of the Night, the Tutelary of Dreams, and so much more. I have lived more years than you have days. I have seen the future become ancient history, seen empires crumble to ruin, seen the empires built on those ruins go through the cycle once more. The thousand years your creator spent in the moon, I spent honing my craft. My power and experience both dwarf hers, let alone yours. I am peerless. And you think that a simple hug will assuage my troubles? That it will heal the scars of a millennium of neglect? You’re what passes for a nightwatchmare in this world? Your Equestria will fall to the beasts of the psychosphere in mere years. What can you hope to offer me?” “…Selene?” Stone-faced silence. “Do you need a hug?” At first, Selene remained impassive. Then, slowly, her wings wilted and her neck sagged. She closed her eyes and folded her ears back as her body shook. When she spoke again, her voice was small, more intent and meaning than sound. It wouldn’t’ve been anything outside the dreamscape. But in here, it was everything. “Y-yes.” It wasn’t physical. It couldn’t quite match the comfort of the real thing. It was one small action, barely anything, against lifetimes of trauma. By all accounts, it was next to worthless in the grand scheme of things. A moment’s warmth, soon to be forgotten in the current of life as bigger, more important events came up and swept its impact aside. But some ponies just needed a hug. selene.hug(); Moondog wrapped her wings around Selene, pulling her close. Selene’s wings flexed as her entire body shook. She didn’t return the gesture. She didn’t push away, either. Moondog didn’t push her in either direction. When she was ready, she would- Suddenly, Selene had grasped Moondog in a bear hug and was sobbing uncontrollably. “No one cares,” she gasped. “I’m- Th-there’s no one else- Everyone’s- I j-just want s-someone to t-talk to…” “I’m sorry,” said Moondog. It was all she could say. It was all that was needed; now that Selene was talking, she’d keep talking. The dam on her grief had finally burst. She just needed to know someone was listening, someone who could help her keep her head above the water. “I… I’ve tried t-to explain it to Solaris, but- A thousand years, a-and he still doesn’t understand. He s-simply thinks I’m lonely. He d-doesn’t know how- how ponies shun me, h-how they ignore me, how I n-never get a scrap of gratitude… I d-don’t need them to k-kiss the ground I walk on. I just w-want them t-to not spit on it…” “Yeah.” As words kept spilling from Selene, Moondog thought. In order to really help somepony, she needed to know what their situation was like and, well, Selene probably wouldn’t take kindly to someone rifling through her memories, especially not right now. Moondog had very little to go on. But that very little might’ve been enough; the threads she followed were promising. “…and you’re- You’re the only one who’s listened,” gasped Selene. “I… I d-don’t know what to do…” Moondog did. Maybe. self.psychUp(); “I might have an idea,” said Moondog. “Do you have any advisors?” “S-some,” Selene whispered. “Have you talked to them?” Selene went still, then shoved Moondog away. “Talk to them?” she hissed, tears still running down her face. “They haven’t lived a fraction of what I have. Their lives are candles next to a bonfire-” “-so does that mean they won’t understand loneliness and isolation? Especially compared to the face of the kingdom?” “As if-” “Shut up and think, Your Majesty,” snapped Moondog. Selene reeled back as if struck. She didn’t even look offended, more surprised and confused. She opened her mouth. “Shut up and think, Your Majesty.” “…Could you-” “Shut up. And think. Your Majesty.” Selene stared at Moondog, utterly baffled. She slowly looked down, her lips moving. Soon, her wings began twitching restlessly. “You’re talking to Solaris because he’s the only other immortal around, right?” asked Moondog. “But he’s the one Equestria adores. He’s the one they honor, the one they praise, the one they think of when they think of ‘Equestria’. He’s been the center of attention for centuries. He probably can’t even imagine what you’re going through.” Selene didn’t move, but she was nodding slightly. “Now, what about your advisors? They’re ordinary ponies, but they’re working for the spooky scary princess. You think other ponies won’t shun them? Even if not, they’re up at night, aren’t they? They might be just as lonely as you. Just-” Moondog quickly added as she saw Selene’s wings twitch open. “Just for not nearly as long.” “But they haven’t felt it as I have,” said Selene. “Haven’t had the years grind them down-” “They’ve felt it more than Solaris has.” Selene folded her ears back. She didn’t look away. “Have you ever actually tried talking to them?” “…No,” Selene admitted. “So give it a shot. Maybe you’ll find some kindred spirits you didn’t know you had.” “Maybe,” mused Selene. Although she didn’t sound convinced. Then Moondog got an idea. A crazy one. One that, although extreme, would absolutely jar Selene out of that rut that immortals seemed to dig themselves into. “Or you could quit.” The idea was so extreme that Selene didn’t react at first, just stared. She kept staring, occasionally lifting one of her hooves as if to make a declaration then putting it down again. Eventually, she said, “Quit. Abdicate.” “If you want to make them appreciate you, just stop being there. They take you for granted. Don’t make a problem only you can solve. Show them what problems you already solve by not solving them anymore. And on the off chance they really don’t need you? Hey, you’re free! Go find yourself. Learn woodworking or something.” Selene’s interest looked genuinely piqued; her ears were twitching and she was nodding gently to herself. “I have some obligations beyond dreams,” she said, clearly more voicing her thoughts than anything. “Any genuinely necessary ones that can’t be filled by someone else?” It took Selene a few moments to reply, “The moon. Equus would suffer if its orbit stopped.” “Six unicorns could move it before you and Solaris showed up, right? Yeah, they lost their magic. So get more than six so they don’t overexert themselves. Twenty sounds good. Or, heck, keep moving the moon but bow out of everything else.” “That-!” Selene cut herself off and frowned. “…is… not… the worst idea…” She tapped one hoof against the other and rustled her wings. “But, look, at the end of the day, I just make dreams,” Moondog said. “I can boost your morale and lift your spirits, but you’re the one who’s fixing your problems. I’m just spitballing, here.” “That’s… certainly an idea.” Selene was still looking off into the distance. “If you think you have a better one, go for it. Seriously. You know your situation better than I do.” Selene looked at Moondog. Moondog looked at Selene. Part of Moondog itched to say something to break the silence, but this wasn’t something you could push, not without risking it collapsing in on itself. Simply getting Selene this far had been lucky. So she fought down the instincts she’d been made with and waited. Ideas ticked by. Eventually, Selene swallowed. “I need to go back, don’t I?” Moondog shrugged. “That’s up to you. I can’t blame you for wanting to stay here.” “I… I can’t simply run from my problems. They might follow me here.” “Can’t argue with that, although I know some ponies who could deal with them.” “At the very least, you’ve…” Selene’s neck twitched, like she was forcing herself to look at Moondog. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” “Sorry.” “Do you take anything seriously?” Selene asked, glowering. Moondog mimed fanning herself and smiled. “Seriously enough. I broke through your millennium-old shell in a few minutes, didn’t I?” Selene snorted. “Really, if you do go back but want to stop by here again and talk — not even talk, just vent — then I’m here. If you come during the day, it’ll be easier to make time for you.” “Just like that?” asked Selene quietly. “After all I put you through, just… Just like that?” “You need someone to talk to. I’m available to talk to. Just like that,” Moondog said with a nod. “I’ve… The things I’ve done…” “You know my mother? Luna. You saw what she went through. And how she… How she took it a lot worse than you did. How she did some things that she… really regrets. Really, really regrets.” Selene nodded. Her lip didn’t curl in contempt. “And Astral? The pony working for me. She’s got her own sordid past. A sordid past that tried to harm me, specifically. But you saw her. She decided she didn’t like the path she was on and turned away and we’re friends now. With a few, you know, complications sprinkled in there. Point is, I’m used to ponies around me having done awful things. But I’m also used to ponies around me having turned things around. And admitting you’ve got some dirt on your hooves is the first step towards cleaning up.” Moondog looked Selene in the eye. “So, yes. Just like that.” Selene looked back and Moondog’s wings tensed up. Any one of a number of reasons for Selene to turn the option down might be headed her way. Pony minds could be odd. You gave them what they needed, and they’d turn it down for some form of self-aggrandizing humility or another. Stupid vulnerability complex. Eventually, Selene said quietly, “Why are you doing this? You don’t know me.” “No. But I’d like to. And does it even matter? I want to help either way. I know it won’t come close to fixing everything, but it’s a start.” “I…” Selene looked down and raised her voice just a little, like she was voicing her thoughts. Maybe spending so much time alone had left her unused to thinking in her head. “I don’t know when I’d be back.” “Like dreams follow schedules.” Selene’s mouth twitched. It wasn’t a smile. Technically. She raised her head. “I…” She unfolded and refolded her wings. “Thank you for… your offer. I can’t say whether I’ll ever take you up on it, but…” She pawed at the ground. “At least you know it’s there, right?” “Yes.” A heaved sigh. “Then I must be of-” self.get(idea); “Wait, hold on a sec,” said Moondog, reaching beneath her wing. “Here.” She extended a hoof, holding out the box with the Tantabus. Selene twitched and she drew back. “You’re giving it to me? After-” “I’m also giving you an idea,” said Moondog. “Another idea. You made this to make nightmares, and honestly? It’s pretty good at it, considering it wasn’t completed. Just flip it around. Have it make good dreams instead. Let it take a load off your shoulders. Accept help.” “Do you think it’d even work? It would be a very… ambitious project, to say the least.” “Hey, it’s worth a shot, right? I mean…” Moondog grinned lopsidedly. “I turned out alright.” Selene managed a weak smile. “You did.” But her expression vanished as she looked at the box in thought. Eventually, she said, “Your idea has merit, but…” She shook her head. “I can’t implement it with that. That Tantabus is… It has a history. I poured my hate and my anger and my bile into it without restraint, and… It’d be better to start from scratch.” “…When you put it like that, yeah.” “Still, you shouldn’t need to worry about it. It’s my problem.” Selene plucked the box from Moondog, gazed at it, turned it over. “I’ll figure out what to do with it.” “Good luck.” Selene nodded, still facing the box, although she didn’t seem to be looking at it. Her wings twitched and she shuffled her hooves. Then, with a twist of magic, she vanished from the dream realm. “A ‘goodbye’ would’ve been nice!” Moondog hollered out. But not angrily. After all, if Selene had been ignored for so long, saying “goodbye” might not be something she knew to do. Baby steps. But working with Selene had let some nightmares build up. Better get to it. dreams.sort(); Moondog shuffled dreams into position and started on the worst one. Dreams were more-or-less normal that night. A bit lighter than usual, in fact; maybe she had done some cleaning of her own? Regardless, it was like she’d never been around. Dreams were like that. Moondog filed her memories on the incident away, to be properly reviewed once she had sufficient time to just sit and think and really turn them over. Then, halfway to dawn- notify(self.getSpellMessages(), sm); readSpellMessage(sm); Come talk to me when you have time. — Luna self.setLocation(mom.getLocation()); Moondog pulled herself out of the pool in Mom’s dream, shaking the water off. “You alright?” she asked. Mom pushed herself up from her lounging position and frowned. “That was… fast,” she said. “I have time,” Moondog said. She wiggled a few last drops of water from her ear and flicked them upward, where they embedded in the sky to become stars. “I’m good at my job.” “I suppose that ought not to be surprising, as you were able to convince Selene to leave.” Moondog’s ears pricked up. “You know already?” “Indeed. Some time after… I left, she came to me. She said you and she had had a conversation, then she apologized for interfering and departed for her world.” “Yeah, she and I had a chat,” said Moondog. “Yes, I was nice. Managed to break through her shell and convince her to stop. We bonded. Only a little, though.” She held the feathers on a wing less than an inch apart. “I… see. And what did she say in that… chat?” asked Mom. “Things she probably wouldn’t want me repeating.” One of Mom’s ears twitched. “I trained you too well,” she said with a reluctant smile. “Nah. If you hadn’t trained me this well, you’d still be stuck with this job while Aunt Celly got to lounge about on permanent vacation.” Moondog lightly swatted at Mom’s nose with her mane. “Peasant.” “Which would hardly be the worst thing in the world. And, in the spirit of remaining on this subject…” Mom bowed her head slightly. “I apologize for overstepping my bounds earlier. It was-” “-borne from force of habit and a desire to protect your once-charges. I get it. Honestly, I’d probably be doing it myself in your place. You’re forgiven, Mom.” Moondog threw a scroll in Mom’s face. “And pardoned.” Mom rolled open the scroll and her eyes skimmed across the things that would’ve been words in the real world. “Is this necessary?” she asked lightly. Moondog shrugged. “Honestly? Probably not. But I’d rather not learn a millennium down the line that you should’ve been in jail for something that technically nearly qualifies as a mini-coup and cause a nepotism-induced ruckus when I pardon you then. This is, y’know, just in case.” mailbox.connect(); Working..... Success! message.compose(pardon.getText()); “Also just in case, there’s a physical copy waiting in the dream mailbox. Talk to Astral tomorrow and she’ll get it to you. Or don’t and it’ll sit there until Astral makes a paper glider out of it. Your call.” Mom tossed the scroll away in a cloud of glitter. “Thank you. Now, if we’re done, I should-” “Wait, one more thing.” Moondog stepped forward. “Thanks for being here so fast,” she said, nuzzling Mom. “Even though you were doing my job for me.” Mom extended a wing to pull Moondog close and returned the nuzzle. “You are my child,” she replied. “Of course I shall be there for you if you need me.” She moved her mouth to Moondog’s ear and whispered, “Although, truth be told, I thought you would have contacted me for help long before now.” “Mom!” “Your questions would be of a bureaucratic nature, not one relating to dreams, but…” Moondog found herself unable to protest that. “Planeswalking doppelgängers aside, princessing is going fine. I’ve got a handle on it, but I’ll let you know if that changes.” “Mmhh. Thank you. Be well.” “You, too.” Moondog twisted her neck, making cracking sounds as she worked out nonexistent crinks in nonexistent bones. “Better get back to it.” Except, she realized the second she was out of the dream, she couldn’t go just yet. There was one more thing she’d forgotten. Astral’s dream wasn’t connected to the collective unconscious, but Moondog could get into it with a quick real-world skip around a dreamlock. Smart. And her dream was actually fairly calm, all things considered. There were concentrated bits of anxiety here and there, but nothing that would turn it into a nightmare any time soon; of all the ways for a nightclub to go wrong (possible and impossible both), nothing was happening. Maybe she had faith that Moondog would handle things. After all, the dreamlock was still holding, right? music.setVolume(0); Manifesting right behind Astral, Moondog said, “Boo.” Without so much as a twitch, Astral turned around. “Splo, actually,” she declared, holding up a cup. “And it probably tastes even worse in the real world.” “Really?” splo.duplicate(); Moondog snatched a copy of Astral’s cup and took a sip. After smacking her lips, she said, “Wow. That is awful.” She promptly downed the rest of the cup in one swallow. “Yep.” Astral attempted to dump her cup, but the splo refused to flow out. “So since you’re here and not panicking, I’m guessing you handled the alicorn. Or do you need my help?” “No help needed. Just congratulations!” Moondog blew a noisemaker in Astral’s face. “You are now the formerly-antisocial unicorn prodigy of a princess and helped save Equestria from the wrath of an alternate form of Princess Luna, just like Twilight!” Astral threw her party hat away. “So does this-” She made a wheezing sound and clapped her chest a few times, coughing up a few bits of confetti. “Does this mean I’m getting alicorned a few years down the road?” “Not a chance. You didn’t save your mentor from alternate Luna. I mean, you stopped the wrath of alternate Luna, but when it came to alternate Luna herself, you bolted, like, immediately, you wimp.” “…So I’m also not getting princesshood eventually shoved on me, right? Then I can live with that. …Where’s the alicorn, anyway?” Selene had apologized to Mom, but not to Astral. Baby steps. “She and I talked and I convinced her to stop, after which she left.” “Huh.” Nearby, an anxiety knot came undone. “Great.” “You doing okay?” “Fine. I just- Let me process this on my own.” Moondog nodded. “If you say so. Need anything?” “Not really, no.” A pause. “Although… there is the dream patrol intern thing.” “You’re still thinking about that?” “Well, I only stopped because of the Tantabus, but now I don’t need to do anything with that, so… kinda, yeah?” “Um. Okay. Good on you for staying on top of that. So what about it?” “It’s…” Astral rubbed the back of her neck. “I… don’t want to sound… entitled or anything, but-” It was amazing how much surprisingly specific body language was shared between ponies. Anyone knew what that meant. “Astral, look. If you don’t want to do that, that’s okay. I’m not ordering anything. And morale is important for…” Moondog waved a hoof and a rainbow rippled around everything. “…all this. If your heart’s not in it, that’s kind of a problem. It’d be nice for me if you helped, but that’s all. Nice. Okay?” “…Not gonna do it. I don’t feel like it. Maybe later. Not right now.” “Alrighty then.” Moondog gave a small salute. “Thank you for your consideration. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. Adios, amiga.” Her piece said, she flowed back to the collective unconscious. Back to the old grind. A moon passed. All side effects from Selene’s visit bubbled away. Moondog still thought about her from time to time. Had she made any progress on sorting her issues out? Or had things gotten worse? But whatever the case, Moondog couldn’t help her. All she could do was hope. Then, one day, it happened. It was a particularly easy day, with few nightmares in need of quashing, even among third-shifters. Very little had needed to be done, so it was done quickly, letting Moondog put on more personal touches. As Moondog exited the latest dream, she felt the aether tug on her. Very gently; if she pulled away, it would take no effort. But she followed, across the expanses of thought and fancy. She didn’t have much else to do at the moment, and maybe someone new was trying to contact her. On the other end of the pull was Selene. She wasn’t Queen Selene; she was missing her regalia. She was just Selene. Whether that was just in this world or in both, Moondog was both unsure and uninterested. Her hooves were a bit closer together, but her wings were relaxed and her spine wasn’t ramrod-straight. “Hey, Selene,” Moondog said, nodding to her. “Princess.” Selene bowed. Her voice didn’t sound so tight anymore, like whatever had wound it up had come undone. Or snapped. Probably the former. It definitely wasn’t a “broken” sort of tone. “How’re you doing?” “Better,” said Selene, nodding. “Better. Not good, but… better.” A pause. When she spoke again, her voice was small. “Do you… have time to talk? I won’t be staying long.” “Sure. It’s a calm day, not many nightmares, so we don’t even need to walk and talk.” Moondog’s mane pointed off at nothing in particular. “Actually, I just finished up with a dream that’d be a perfect place for us to sit and chat.” “…Thank you,” said Selene. “I…” She blinked and looked away, rubbing at her eyes. “Th-thank you.” “Hey.” Moondog swept a wing across the expanses of the collective unconscious. “I manage dreams. Helping ponies is what I do. Now, c’mon. Let’s get someplace nice.” She held out a hoof. After a moment, Selene took the proffered hoof in hers. And then they were gone.