There was much to say to Scootaloo—many words to exchange, friendship to renew, and tears to be shed. Sweetie told her as little as she could about the events of her escape, painful as they were to contemplate. She was grateful that so few memories of that experience survived—all she really had to know was that it was difficult and painful.
But that conversation was the easy one—the one that would've happened to any two friends reuniting after a difficult experience. The much harder part was what followed—Scootaloo wasn't stupid. She already knew where she was, even if she didn't want to accept that information as the truth.
"We're both... digital," Sweetie Belle explained, a few hours later. They weren't waiting in Scootaloo's bedroom anymore, and had instead wandered out onto the hospital grounds, where a little courtyard with a few stone benches provided comfortable spots for ponies to walk and rest.
The garden here was greatly lacking from anything Sweetie knew from the real world—two varieties of flowers, one yellow and one white, repeated so regularly that every single one might be identical.
"We don't have bodies out in the real world right now. Me, because I had to work mine real hard to get you out alive. It fell apart when I got back, and they had to send me here. And you... for the same reason." She looked away as she said it, avoiding Scootaloo's eyes. Of course the underlying intensity was still there.
A handful of other patients occupied the space beside them. Most of those were older ponies, mares and stallions trundling around with walkers and braces on their legs. Sweetie wanted to stop and ask them why, given the ponies had traveled to a world without bodies, age, or any other physical restrictions.
But she didn't right then, not with Scootaloo beside her. Her friend hadn't removed the hospital gown, or the band around her foreleg identifying her as a patient. "The same reason. As in... dead. I died in the tunnel, and they had to... put my head into one of those scanning machines. Cut my skull open—" She trailed off, face going slightly green. Both wings opened, or tried to, but the gown held them pinned down, restricting that particular expression of pegasus emotion.
She nodded. "Not so gruesome anymore. The new scanner is just one needle with all these fibers. Goes in behind the spine..." She trailed off. "Maybe you don't wanna know that."
Scootaloo picked an empty spot beside a little artificial stream, flowing along a garden of identical rocks into a pool. Nothing visibly pumped the water to the top of the nearby fountain—but the metal bowl kept filling, trickling level by level until it reached the stream and started to flow.
"Will they have a funeral for me? Tell my parents I'm gone, gather everypony in town?"
"Probably. I think there was some talk of having them after ponies have come back. But mass production won't really start until later this year. I bet we won't get anything like that happening until there are so many bodies that ponies don’t have to wait."
"And my marefriend won't even be there." Scootaloo nudged her with her neck—as affectionately as Sweetie remembered. Maybe a little more. It didn't matter if this world wasn't real on paper. It was as though a barrier had been removed between them. Suddenly she could touch the mare directly, instead of through a pair of boots.
My senses in here are better than the body. No reason to make the computer fake.
"Technically, you can both be there," said a voice from behind them. It was the same one as before, the bat nurse. Did she not have anything better to do? Or maybe her treatment responsibilities were more holistic than just making sure Sweetie woke up okay. "By some definitions of being there. Lucid Bioinformatics has been waiting for an opportunity to test the mobile viewport. Since you're the landmark case, lots of ponies want to make sure that you're okay."
Sweetie turned, pulling away from her marefriend. Scootaloo looked back once, but remained on her rump, disinterested.
"How will that work, exactly?" Sweetie asked. "Viewport. You mean like—a window? The world has a window."
"More than one. As many as we need. Most ponies who come here—they've got rich families, or they were rich themselves. Left their whole estate in trust to the company, and in exchange they get the luxury experience. That means communicating with family. Right now it's kinda slow and awful, like having somepony visit you in prison. But it will get easier. One day, you'll be able to talk to anypony in Equestria through the internet. That's the idea, anyway. Software side is still..."
The mare made a frustrated gesture with both wings. "I'm supposed to get both of you to your homes. I have these keys here." She held up two identical keyrings, one in each wing. "They're on opposite sides of the neighborhood, but the inside's identical. Since it's all virtual, no reason not to give everypony the best."
Sweetie levitated both keys towards her, then hesitated. "We're going to be here that long? That we need houses?"
The nurse nodded sadly. "Other ponies waiting in the queue before you. Important orders from some important mares and stallions. Not sure the corporate side, but—you have to wait your turn. Your friend might be waiting a long time. Ask Lucid about that. I know he wants you to call him as soon as you get home."
Sweetie held the other key towards Scootaloo, then stopped. "These houses big enough for two?"
"Huge. Things aren't what cost resources in here, or space. It's thoughts. Each pony in here means a bigger computer churning away outside—it means more energy sucked down every second, to keep us running. We could each have whole palaces if we wanted, so long as there weren’t any servants inside. Most of the ponies here want to be around each other. Either that, or just sleep until their body is ready. Lucid can explain all that, he doesn't pay me enough."
"We can share," Scootaloo said, looking back again. "At least there's one good thing about being dead. We don't have to save up for a house anymore."
"Yeah! Maybe we can play with some different designs, so we have everything picked out for when it's time."
The bat shrugged, taking back the extra key. "Sounds good. Which means this is where I leave you." She stomped one hoof on the ground, and Scootaloo's gown vanished. Underneath, the mare was entirely healthy—right down to her wings.
If anything, they looked better than usual. Not shrunken and unevenly sized anymore, Scootaloo now looked like an average pegasus. Her fluffy flight feathers were fully intact across her body, and the unusually large muscles between her shoulders for ground buzzing were gone.
"Don't call me if you need help, I'm not the pony for that. There are red phones all over the place—pick up one of those, and call tech support. Just know time will get funny when you do. Same thing always happens when you talk to ponies on the outside."
She took off, fluttering back towards the building. The grass barely moved from her passage—somehow, that too felt off. Like grass might behave on an exceptionally cold day, halfway frozen.
Her marefriend stood, stretching to either side. She still resembled the mare that Sweetie had grown up alongside, but many of the specific details were just a tiny bit off. It was a little like someone had tried to recreate Scootaloo's whole body using a few photographs, rather than detailed medical information. The colors were right, and the proportions were mostly accurate, but everything was just a tiny bit lacking.
"Guess we should take a look around," Scootaloo said, eyeing Sweetie's keys. "If we're stuck here for a while, we might as well learn the area."
They walked together through a town that didn't exist. Its streets were all basically identical—paved with cobblestones that looked natural at first, but actually repeated every dozen meters or so. The houses too appeared varied at a glance, but actually just swapped a shade of paint or two and repositioned one of the windows.
There was a downtown district with shops and a few other public buildings. Fifty or so ponies congregated there, mostly older like the ones in the hospital. They shopped, ate, and talked under the shade of identical trees, mostly separated into their various friend-groups.
Many gave them cheerful waves, or shouted things like "Welcome to the Dream!" "Hope it didn't hurt too much getting here!"
Sweetie waved right back, returning the friendly enthusiasm. If anything, the ponies all around them had much more in common with her than anypony in her hometown. Every creature she saw was a fellow synthetic pony, their body dead and their mind dwelling within Lucid Bioinformatic's mainframe.
Scootaloo showed little of the same energy. A brief flick of her wing, maybe a nod, and she moved closer to Sweetie Belle. Almost hiding behind her, though the pegasus was naturally taller.
"You don't have to do that," Sweetie said, as soon as they'd reached the street name indicated on the piece of paper attached to their key. "These are our neighbors. We might as well get to know them."
Her marefriend shrugged both wings, keeping her head down. She said nothing, letting her large wings trail down the ground behind her.
She stayed stubbornly silent until they reached the doors to Sweetie's house—identical to all the others, except for her cutie mark etched onto the mailbox.
She already had the key into the lock before the mare finally spoke. "But they aren't real, right? Everypony here—they're on a computer. Nopony in here is alive."
Sweetie slid the key into place and turned. The door swung open of its own accord, leading through to... something impossible.
It resembled photos her parents sent back from their (many) vacation trips, out onto tropical beaches. Only one story but sprawling over a light wood floor in many colors, with oversized, comfortable furniture. There was a balcony beyond, leading down a narrow path to a beach of crystal-clear water, crashing gently down onto white sand.
Her objections were momentarily silenced as she stumbled forward, taking in the huge space. Open doorways off the main room led to a bedroom, study, and a huge bathtub. Another led to a kitchen, with windows opening onto a lush rainforest packed with trees.
A phone started ringing, echoing loudly from the little office door.
Sweetie hurried inside, breaking into a trot, and rushing over to the phone. It sat beside a huge computer station, much more expensive than her older sister had ever bought her.
Sweetie picked up the headset with her magic, holding it towards her. As she did—the screen lit up, and a video feed connected.
She'd seen that view before—Lucid's house in Ponyville. Granted, the furniture was nicer than she remembered—the Piano room was a new addition. But she'd still been there before.
Lucid Storm faced into the camera, looking so much more—detailed—than anything in Sweetie Belle's world. Compared to that view, every object around her seemed so smooth.
"Sweetie Belle! I'm told you woke up today. How are you feeling?"
She rolled the computer chair out of the way, waving one hoof at the camera. She kept the phone levitating beside her, unsure of what might happen if she hung up. "A little weird but getting used to it. I didn't know you built a city for ponies who can't be alive yet!"
Another bat appeared behind Lucid—Seed Wise, pausing long enough to look in at the camera. "They're okay? Good. You two take care of yourselves in there!"
Scootaloo approached the desk beside Sweetie, looking up at the screen. She kept her head down, silent and watchful. Just don't get mad at him. If Lucid hadn't helped you. you'd be dead for reals.
"We will," Sweetie promised. "Thanks for the rescue. That was some great timing!"
The bat nodded. "Saw the damage sensors go absolutely nuts. Turns out your sister knew the area, helped the team get right to you. Lots of ponies wondering what you two were doing mining of all things. No safety plan, no equipment..."
"Not realizing how dangerous it was," she said, head down. "I guess we owe a lot of ponies an apology."
The bat shrugged. "One day. When you're back out here. For now... well, it might be a minute. You picked the worst possible time to break. Right as we wait for our overseas partners to spool up production. And for your friend—we'll have to wait for a gap in the queue. That's gonna be a long time. I can donate a body for her—but not if there are customers waiting."
Sweetie rested one hoof on the desk, leaning up to the camera. "Don't bother making mine until hers is ready too. I won't come out without her."
The bat stiffened, and looked like he might argue with her. Then his wife fixed him with an intense glare, and his wings relaxed again. "Alright, Sweetie Belle. I hope you don't mind answering some interviews over the next few weeks. We've been keeping this technology quiet, except for our customers. But your case was so public—we had to share. You've got family queued up for calls, a few media ponies. Is that okay?"
She smiled back at him, as neutral and friendly as she could. "Of course, Mr. Storm. Thanks for saving my friend. It means the world to me."