//------------------------------// // 18. Message Received // Story: Imperatives // by Sharp Quill //------------------------------// In front of Discord manifested a beach-ball-sized Earth, slowly turning with evolving weather patterns. “Actual stuff, following its own rules, independent of any magic. Such simple rules, your laws of physics, yet yielding astonishing complexity and self-organization, from the sub-microscopic to the scale of continents. And life—life!—from bacteria to whales to mushrooms to trees.” The globe changed, colors shifted, cloud patterns altered. “But we miscalculated. We had no idea how linked your world was to the rest of your realm. No moon, no tides. No solar tides from our sun substitute, either. No solar wind interacting with the atmosphere. No cosmic radiation. Many creatures cared about the phase of the moon; that we could and did fix. “Slowly the planet warmed up. At first we thought something had gone wrong with the sun. But it wasn’t just the planet; the entire realm was heating up. Heat radiated from the planet, spread throughout space, and looped back to the planet—because the realm was the surface of a small hypersphere. Once we’d figured that out, Harmony adjusted the spells powering the stars.” The planet was dismissed. “By then the damage had been done. Comparing against the original made that clear enough. We considered starting over with a fresh clone. “Instead, we went to work fixing what we had—and making a few improvements.” The E.R.S Zephyr hung high over the northeastern edge of the Everfree Forest. Just outside the forest was an impossible sight—impossible anywhere, that is, but here in Equestria. Meg turned to Twilight. “What should we do? Land this ship? Fly down ourselves?” She looked around the observation lounge. “Wait for Discord to show up? I’m half surprised he’s not already here to greet us.” Twilight continued peering down at Discordland. “There’s certainly enough room down there to land the ship.” She scrunched her muzzle. “But there’s supposedly a barrier to keep people from leaving the park. Better not to risk passing the ship through that, not until we know more.” “What about us passing through that?” Twilight started walking to the intercom. “Stay behind me, and be prepared to stop if I stop.” “Okay…” It was probably safe enough, Meg told herself. Twilight can detect and analyze any magical barrier. If only Discord was expecting us. But all attempts to contact him had failed. Once Twilight had reached the intercom, she pressed the button to talk. “Captain, Meg and I will fly down. Remain here until we return.” “As you wish, Your Highness.” Twilight walked over to the nearest window. “I’ll teleport us outside.” Meg was used to that by now. Seconds later the two were outside, hovering. “Before going down there,” she said, “I’d like to scope out the area. If a brony convention is to be held there, some things need to be sorted out—like, could people drive here through a portal? Where would they park?” She scanned the ground below. “There’s that large grassy area between the park and the forest. Maybe that can be turned into a parking lot?” “The entrance is on that side, though I’m sure it could be moved if necessary.” “Yeah. Or maybe it’ll move on its own. Because chaos.” Twilight squinted. “Hasn’t moved yet. But we can speculate forever. We really need Discord to show up.” Meg sighed. “You’re right. Let’s go down. Probably the best way to get him to appear anyway.” “Maybe we should’ve insisted on Yearling coming along with us. She seems to have a knack for handling him. Wouldn’t surprise me if he’d be more likely to show up if she were with us.” And with that said, Twilight slowly descended, her horn already lit. “Remember: stay well back, just in case.” Meg waited a few seconds, then followed, trying to match the alicorn’s precise path. That was easy enough to do, providing plenty of opportunity to examine the theme park below as they descended. Clearly it was inspired by a certain famous Californian theme park—if its creator had been dropping acid while designing it. It could have been worse, she supposed. At least the buildings weren’t walking around; some of them even possessed flat surfaces meeting at right angles. Though one of those had a waterfall that ignored the prevailing direction of gravity. Twilight was suddenly flying right at her. “Gah!” Meg made a hard right to avoid colliding. “What just happened?” The alicorn slowed to a hover. “I just hit the barrier, I think. It’s supposed to do what you just saw.” She rotated to face it. “Strange I didn’t sense it.” “Could you teleport past it?” “Don’t see why not. It’s supposed to keep humans in, not magic-using ponies out.” “Guess it’s just as well we didn’t try to land the ship.” “Yeah.” Twilight resume forward movement, then stopped. “Should be about here. Still don’t sense anything.” Moving forward once again, she was turned around. Not rotated, just… now going the other way. Twilight stopped and turned around. “Okay, let’s try a teleport.” And she did—in the wrong direction. And once again facing the other way. Now she was getting angry. “That makes no sense!” “Au contraire! It makes perfect sense.” Twilight smashed hoof into forehead. “By all means, Discord, explain how this makes perfect sense.” The draconequus faded into view, wearing a brown top hat, a plum jacket, sand colored trousers, and a beige bowtie. He leaned on a brown, rod-like cane, never mind they were all well above the ground. “Do I have to explain everything? Next you’ll be questioning whether snozzberries taste like snozzberries!” “What?” Meg groaned. “She’s not gonna get the reference, you know.” Discord winked at her. “But you do.” Twilight looked at her. And back at Discord. “That’s beside the point! Just answer the question.” “Oh… fine.” He raised the cane then pointed it at the entrance below and they all started to descend, the barrier now irrelevant. “I’m thinking ahead, Twilight, my dear, and your constructive criticism can take credit for that. Sure, humans don’t do magic today, but what about tomorrow? And what better way to test the security than to put it up against the Element of Magic herself!” “I couldn’t even sense the magic,” she grumbled. “And you don’t know how happy that makes me! If you can’t sense it, then you can’t analyze and counter it.” Twilight had no response to that. Meg couldn’t blame her; that explanation made shockingly good sense. They all touched down on the grass in front of the entrance. In response, the ponderous gate creaked open. Cane still in paw, Discord raised his arms and proclaimed, “Welcome to Discordland, the discordiant place in the multiverse!” Where had been closed gates now began a wide road, straight as an arrow. No, its chaos revealed itself not through shape but through makeup. Concrete abutted asphalt abutted brick abutted wooden planks abutted green goo. Well, it looked like goo. How solid was it? Maybe there was a transparent barrier above it? As Meg’s eyes drifted down that road, other unlikely substances presented themselves. Of course there’d be cotton candy. What wasn’t to be seen was equally noteworthy. No booths to collect admission fees. No security to inspect backpacks. One could argue Discord had no need for either. She looked back at the grassy plain that went right up to the gate. “Before we go inside,” she said, “we need to discuss how your human guests will arrive.” Discord gasped in glee. “Am I about to receive advice from Sunbutt’s Royal Advisor on Human Affairs?” Twilight scowled at the insult to her mentor. “She’s an advisor to all princesses, myself included, for your information.” Discord lowered his head next to Meg’s, somehow not toppling over, and in a stage whisper said, “I think she’s just upset I haven’t come up with a nickname for her yet.” “No. I’m not. Really.” After giving Meg a wink, he returned to an upright position. “Obviously, my second most favorite adult pegasus, humans shall arrive via a portal.” Adult? Never mind, at least they were past the topic of nicknames. “Yes, but do they walk through a portal, or do they drive through? If the latter, they need a place to park here; if the former, that end of the portal must be near parking facilities. There’s also the question of hotels: which side of the portal are they to be?” Discord looked at the grass in thought, paw on chin. “I think I’d prefer to have the hotel here, and this time without partners to restrain my inspiration.” He did complain about that back in Las Pegasus, didn’t he? Well, convention attendees will know what they’re getting into. “Just so long as nothing permanent happens to the guests.” “Yes, yes,” he said, waving it away. “Perhaps even better to have a ‘safe word’ if things get too…” Meg sighed. “Look, you have to appreciate that not everyone has the same enthusiasm for chaos that you do. Let them experience as much as they are willing to experience, but no more. If you want repeat business, it’s critical to respect that.” “I suppose…” Well, it was the best she could hope for. He seemed sincere enough, anyway. “If you want your own hotel, then you also should provide parking. You don’t have to pave over this lawn; you could put it underground, beneath the hotel. Which means guests will drive through the portal, and the Earth-side portal needs to be placed accordingly.” “Only one portal?” Obviously multiple portals could be opened, but should they? On the one hand, it could cut down on air travel; but on the other… What if the portals went to different countries? Would anyone use them to circumvent passports and customs? The questioned answered itself. “Better to stick with just one.” “Fine, if you insist…” “And you should know that a hotel is more than just a place for people to stay overnight. It also has rooms, small and large, some very large, to hold convention events and a marketplace. As examples I can give you brochures with floor maps from hotels that do conventions.” He looked a bit miffed. “You mean like that Las Pegasus hotel/casino with my name on it.” “Well… I guess? I mean, I didn’t notice when I was there but if they hold conventions then they’d need to do that too.” His posture sagged. “This is going to require some thought,” he finally said. “I’ll get back to you on the hotel.” “Take your time, and when you’re ready I can set up a meeting with the convention runners. You’ve already met some of them a while back.” “I did, didn’t I?” There was still the subject of the documentary crew. Meg decided it could wait until later. It was Twilight’s turn with the draconequus now. And Twilight took advantage of the opening. “As you know, I’d like to use this park as a place to vet the humans I’ll be taking back in time to observe the creation of the anomaly. Where would be a good place to do that?” She waved a hoof at the grassy field. “We could do it out there…” Discord’s eyes lit up. “I know just the place!” He strode over the threshold and onto the chaotically composited road inside the park. Twilight followed him, and Meg followed Twilight. One question had been answered: no transparent barrier covered the road. Each region possessed the texture one would expect from its material. They approached the green goo. Discord stepped right into it, then out of it. The goo gave, but none stuck to his foot. Twilight hesitated, then did likewise. Meg just did it; it felt springy—and dry. Other questionable substances turned out to be equally inoffensive. “Over there is Chaos Mountain,” Discord said, pointing with a talon. “It’s a roller coaster through chaos.” The “mountain” was somewhat cone shaped, big surprise, but the Anaheim equivalent didn’t rotate about its tip—rotate vertically, that is, as in it went upside down halfway through its rotation. “How do the cars stay on the track when it’s upside down?” Meg asked. Discord looked almost insulted by the question. “The cars would fall off the track unless it did go upside down.” Meg decided not to ask how passengers got on and off. That must happen when the base was on the ground. Right? “And that’s ‘it’s a mad world.’” One could hear the lack of capitalization in the name. The ride presented a façade of numerous buildings of various architectural styles from around the world—the human world. In the center was an oversized clock, somewhat stretched and distorted as if it had partially melted at some point. The two hands were moving at randomly varying speeds and directions, changing size and shape as they did. But most unsettling was that the attraction had its own miniature Sun and Moon, moving in an arc over the façade in perfect synchronization with that misshapen clock. Celestia’s Sun held no dominion here; the only light, or lack thereof, illuminating the façade and surrounding grounds came from those miniatures. It even had its own weather system, equally chaotic. Right now, it was raining chocolate milk from cotton candy clouds. Fortunately, it barely extended into the areas where ponies would be present. Giant sponges, that came seemingly out of nowhere, were already at work wiping the beverage off the pavement. Twilight shook her head. “Can’t wait for Pinkie Pie to see this,” she muttered. “She’ll have to wait a while longer, I’m afraid.” Discord let out a sigh. “That ride remains stubbornly orderly.” Meg forced a smile. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually.” For his sake, she just hoped he remembered her advice to let his guests experience only what they’re willing to experience. “It really is impressive what you’ve accomplished here.” And she meant it. Sure, his powers were god-like, but he still had to come up with all this. He couldn’t just snap his talons and bring the entire park into existence all at once, right? His own admission of problems with that blatant “it’s a small world” ripoff says otherwise. “This tour is all nice and well,” Twilight said, “but a ride is not an appropriate place for me to vet people.” “I quite understand,” Discord declared. “We have so much time and so little to do.” Twilight was about to object to the absurdity of that statement when Meg, shaking her head, put a hoof to the alicorn’s mouth. Meg tilted her head at the draconequus, waiting for the inevitable line. All she got was a smirk in response. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” Discord snapped his talons… …and they were all teleported to an open area. Plain concrete was beneath their hooves. Spaced around them were planters bursting with colorful flowers and simple metal benches. It was strangely… unchaotic. If not for what surrounded them, Meg could almost believe they had left the theme park. “Welcome to Pandemonium Plaza!” Twilight turned a full circle. “What pandemonium?” “The flowers, obviously! Those colors are practically rioting.” And now that Meg focused on a single planter, it became clear it wasn’t as “normal” as it had first appeared. Several blue flowers drifted in on a red flower in their midst and made contact, forcing their blueness upon it. It fought back, spitting red back onto its attackers. The red dots slowly expanded. All the flowers were engaged in sluggish battles; none of the dozens of colors seemed to be winning. “Are these flowers safe to eat?” Twilight asked. “Perfectly safe,” declared Discord. “If you don’t mind your coat’s coloration joining the battle royal.” “Okay, we need to discuss that, but I can let that slide for now since humans won’t think to eat them.” “Am I hearing this plaza meets your needs?” He chewed on his talons. “The suspense is killing me; I hope it lasts.” The alicorn rolled her eyes. “It looks like it. All I need are the exact coordinates so that a portal is placed right here.” Discord was radiating happiness. “You’ll find it already set up in the portal control room. Just provide the location on Earth and you’re good to go!” “Perfect. Now, about the anomaly.” “Whenever you’re ready. The sooner, the better, if you want my opinion.” How about yesterday? Meg grumbled to herself. Twilight rolled her eyes. Again. “And you’ll show up when we are ready?” “Indubitably!” “Guess that’ll have to do.” She looked up the Zephyr. “How do we get past that barrier?” Discord held out his open paw. Half a dozen tokens rested on it. “Carry one of these with you. It grants entry and exit.” Twilight took them in her magic. “That’s most helpful, Discord.” She turned to Meg, levitating one over to her. “We should return to Canterlot.” “I’ll follow in a minute,” Meg said, taking the token in hoof. Soon she was alone with Discord. “And how do I contact you to schedule a meeting with the convention staff?” “Calendars are so orderly, don’t you think? Just bring them here by portal; I’ll know.” She had little doubt of that. “And will you be in that ridiculous getup?” “Most certainly not! I’ll be in something ludicrous.” He vanished. Meg sighed. At least he’d have an audience better able to get the reference. Whatever it turns out to be. She took flight. The return to the airship was uneventful. As advertised, the token let her through the barrier as if it wasn’t there. Twilight was waiting for her outside the observation lounge. One teleport later and they were both inside. Discussion waited until the Zephyr was on its way back to Canterlot. “We take out the anomaly next, now that Discord’s on board—right?” Meg asked. Twilight took a seat. “The other options are to first return the enchanter/caster setup to the past, vet the observers that we’ll be taking to the past, or go back ourselves to observe from inside the building. As they all involve time travel, I know, there’s no good reason to do any of them ahead of fixing the anomaly in the present.” She looked out at the Everfree below them. “Best I can come up with is because doing the anomaly first is too obvious.” “You think Discord’s definition of our readiness differs from our own?” “The thought has crossed my mind, yes. Perhaps we’re not ‘ready’ until we do one or more of the other things first.” Would he really do that? Could they really rule it out? Maybe no one had been killed, yet, but the property damage was growing exponentially, never mind all that air being suck out. Did that matter to him? Was the chaos being generated more important to him? Maybe he needed to be reminded that he couldn’t just fix everything with a snap of his talons. “I guess,” Meg said, “that we’ll find out by when he decides to show up.” “It’s not just that.” “Oh?” “Well, consider: If the anomaly was gone, would the demand to ‘observe’ also go away?” “That’d be a good thing, right?” Meg scrunched her muzzle. “On second thought… I don’t think it would go away. The whole point of observing is to assign blame, or even to experience time travel, maybe try to take advantage of it. Getting rid of the anomaly won’t change any of that.” “I suppose not.” Forest encrusted hills flowed beneath them. “So we take care of the anomaly first. How do we proceed? Just show up at the hyperspace portal and hope Discord turns up?” Twilight exhaled. “Not exactly. Discord needs to go to hyperspace to displace your world into hyperspace. Me? I’ll be on Earth, ready to cast the spell once he does that.” She frowned. “The only question is whether to officially schedule it with human authorities.” “Which would be rather difficult to do if we don’t know when Discord will turn up.” “There’s that, too.” And this was the reformed Discord they were dealing with. Meg had to remind herself that the pony next to her had dealt with the unreformed draconequus. “Let’s face it,” she said, remembering what he had said about calendars. “We can’t schedule it, because he won’t give us that option.” “I’m afraid you’re right,” Twilight said, grimacing. “On the other hoof, Serrell himself is not sure whether to make a public announcement.” “Then let him know it’ll be sooner rather than later, Discord willing. It’s the best we can do.” Twilight sighed. “I suppose it is.” The two mares stared out the window in silence. In due course the ship began to decelerate, and shortly thereafter Canterlot came into view. “Will it ever return to normal?” Twilight’s eyes remained on the capital of Equestria. “Speaking as a mare with some experience in world-threatening situations like this… yes. But not necessarily to the same ‘normal’ as before.” The alicorn briefly extended her wings as an example. “The infamous ‘new’ normal. Right.” Meg didn’t dare guess how the new normal would differ from the old. It seemed a safe bet it would not be an improvement to her quality of life. Once the Zephyr arrived at Canterlot, the two lost no time getting to the secure vault in which the mirror was kept. Once inside the mirror realm, they went straight to the portal control panel. Meg sat at the console and moved the mouse. The user interface displayed the portal creation dialog box, with the Equestrian coordinates already entered. “I guess Discord followed through.” Meg brought up an editor and copy and pasted the data. “Might as well keep that for future reference.” She stood up; they had as of yet no Earth-side coordinates to enter. “Good idea.” Twilight went to the pillar she had entered through. On the other side was the hyperspace portal. Going through by herself was not an option, not yet. “Discord, are you there?” They knew from prior experience that sound passed through to the other side. He could be there. He had to have been here to enter those coordinates. There was no response. “Wouldn’t he have to be near the portal to hear us?” Meg asked. “Maybe? Not sure what difference it makes. The point is, he’s not here now.” Meg pondered that for a moment. “Go to the anomaly? Maybe he’s there, waiting for you to show up before doing the displacement.” Twilight put hand to chin. “It’s possible. Magic does color the ‘skin’ of the realm as seen from hyperspace. But how long is he prepared to wait out there?” “Perhaps there’s preparation he has to do?” She shook her head. “We can speculate forever. Might as well go there and see what happens.” She went around the pillar to the portal back to Equestria. “And try to give Serrell a heads-up.” By the time Meg went around the pillar herself, Twilight had already gone through. After going through herself no Twilight was to be seen. She couldn’t have exited the vault that quickly on hoof; presumably she had teleported, almost certainly to get plaid pills. That turned out to be the case. Twilight returned, with saddlebags on her back and two pills in her magical grasp. “Sorry,” she said, as one pill floated over to Meg. “Figured we shouldn’t waste any time if he’s waiting for us. I’ve already sent a message to Serrell.” “Before we go… when was the last time you’ve been there?” “Over a day… oh.” “Yeah, we can’t go there, not any more. I flew there from about two miles away, so I can bring us to that gas station—should be safe enough.” “Sounds good to me.” They both went airborne and swallowed a plaid pill. Meg could almost forget the taste, it had become so familiar. A wind was pushing them towards the anomaly. Far below them, what few cars could be seen out and about were mostly heading in the opposite direction. Even from here, the hole in the ground was visible. “We better gain altitude as we approach,” Meg said. “Yeah. It’s almost as high as it is wide.” The alicorn squinted into the distance. “Actually, we want the closest intact building to land on. We’d have to descend anyway.” She flew off. Meg followed, keeping an eye on the ground. It looked like all attempts to cordon off the anomaly had been abandoned. The perimeter was too large and expanding too fast. The wind was picking up speed; soon they’d have to fly in the opposite direction to keep their ground speed in check. They came upon a lot of equipment, some of it spilling into the now useless roads. Scientists? And that looked like media. They landed in a relatively sheltered spot, with Twilight providing telekinetic assistance to Meg so as to fight the now-powerful winds. The hole in the ground started about four blocks away; any building closer had begun disintegrating. “Time to signal Discord,” Twilight shouted and her horn ignited. They weren’t far from the edge of the roof, so Meg figured that if she kept low she could make it over there and check out the activity below. She noted barriers had been erected to shield from the worst of the winds. People then started pointing up at the sky; why was that? Meg herself looked up. The sky was darkening, as if the blue color was being sucked out. It wasn’t just the sky; it was happening everywhere. She peeked at the late afternoon sun, as briefly as she could. Was it yellower than usual? Twilight ceased her efforts, for Discord had received her message.