//------------------------------// // 19. Displacement // Story: Imperatives // by Sharp Quill //------------------------------// “Making improvements?” Twilight smirked. “Like requiring us ponies to raise and lower the sun and the moon?” It had been decades, of course, since that had been the case, not since Meg had figured out how to automate those spells. “Certainly not!” Discord said, clearly not pleased. “Need I remind you that no ponies existed then? Indeed, no magical creatures of any kind, other than myself and Harmony. That, however, was about to change—though we did tweak the solar output to emulate earthly seasons. “Anyway…” Discord spread his arms apart, a menagerie of magical creatures appearing between them. “Manticore, quarry eel, hydra, timberwolf, cockatrice, poison joke, you get the idea.” He squeezed them all together until they flattened into nothing. “Then there are the one-offs, the ursa major and ursa minor—and of course the Smooze, the only one with sapience.” Meg scrunched her mouth. “Not sure how poison joke helps anything.” “By adaptively correcting imbalances, that’s how! Even sis agreed with that; the others she wasn’t so crazy about.” “And what about the Tree of Harmony,” Twilight asked. “Isn’t that another magical plant?” Discord was incredulous. “You still haven’t figured it out?” Gradually the sky turned black and stars began to peek through, but tinted orange. In fact, everything around Meg adopted an orange tint—and that tint became ever redder and redder. It also began to become noticeably cooler. “I guess we have our answer,” she said, “on the effect of displacement on electromagnetic radiation attempting to pass through the boundary.” Twilight nodded. “Lower and lower frequencies are being blocked. How much lower, I wonder?” “How much longer before Discord’s done displacing us?” Meg countered. “Hopefully before all visible light is blocked.” Twilight retrieved an object from her saddlebag, a quill. She cast a spell on it. Nothing happened. “Not done yet,” she said. “Conservation laws still in effect.” Meg’s phone rang. Caller id was blocked. Somehow, she felt she should answer it anyway, given the circumstances. She did so and put it on speakerphone. “Hello?” “Is Twilight with you?” It was the president. “I am,” Twilight replied. “The displacement into hyperspace is happening now, as you probably guessed. I don’t know how much worse it’s going to get before it completes.” A few seconds of silence. “But you will be able to get rid of that damned anomaly, right?” “That’s the plan.” Everything was monochromatic red, and dimming. “You are there, I take it?” “On the roof of a nearby building. We can relocate to the ground if you wish.” “No, you don’t need the distraction or interference. Just keep this line open.” “Will do.” The sun became dimmer than a full moon, a deep baleful red, easy to look at. The stars became too dim to see. It wouldn’t be long before the sun, too, would disappear, except maybe in heat vision goggles. “I wonder what we look like from space,” Meg said. “Maybe we’ll find out, if the satellites weren’t displaced with us.” But the sun did not disappear. “Maybe it’s finished?” Meg asked. Twilight retried a spell on that quill. This time, it grew larger. She cast a different spell, and it returned to its normal size. “Looks like we’re good to go. Just one more thing to check first.” Her horn lit up yet again, and a click came from her saddlebag. “It may be hoping for too much, but I just switched off the magic generator.” For a second her eyes were closed, then they opened with a sigh. “It was too much to hope for. No ambient magic field.” Another click came from her saddlebag, turning the generator back on. It was the biggest one they could construct, enough to cover the distance to the anomaly with some magic field. “Why haven’t you started?” Discord asked. “I can’t keep this up forever.” The draconequus was standing beside Meg, opposite from Twilight. “So you can exist here now?” Meg asked. “Obviously,” he said, “not that I can take advantage of it. This is difficult, much more so than I’d expected, so please get on with it!” Twilight nodded. “Right.” She aimed her horn at the anomaly and a continuous ray shot out. It disappeared inside. And that was all. No effect on the anomaly evident. How long would this take? Meg looked up at Discord, frozen in concentration. The shorter the better, clearly. There’s no planet-wide magic field, so how’s he… She opened her mouth, then thought better of it. He didn’t need the distraction. Maybe he wasn’t all here? Part of him was still in hyperspace? Tapping the magic there? Meg went over to the edge and looked down. Street lights had all turned on, triggered by the darkness. People were looking up in her direction, not because they could see her, but because they could see Twilight’s beam of magic. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the attention. The anomaly still looked no different, the rush of air towards it no weaker. “Any idea how long this will take?” she asked Twilight. “Longer than I’d like,” was her response. “It’s huge in there. I may have to try a different approach.” “Not what I want to hear.” The president’s voice was soft, audible only to Meg. “Me neither,” Discord grunted. Okay, so Discord had excellent hearing. Excellent hearing was not required to hear the whine of an approaching drone. Hearing was not required at all to know it was approaching, for a searchlight pointed right at them. “Great, the media.” Hopefully, it’s just the media. “Don’t let them know I’m on the line.” Meg sighed. “Sure.” Twilight and Discord had their hooves full. Guess it’s up to me. She could buck it out the sky. But maybe that was the wrong approach. Shouldn’t this be documented for history? Nothing wrong with that. Sure, it could be spun the wrong way, but— “You’re on live TV, just so you know.” “Copy that.” Twilight gave her a funny look at those two words. “I’ll explain later. Let me worry about that drone.” Meg got a nod in response. The wind blasted her mane; it remained at full strength. At least that was slowing down the drone’s approach. She could handle that wind, but she still wished Rainbow Dash was here. Industrial-strength weather magic would be useful to counter it. It took about a minute for the drone to finally reach them and hover. With that damn light shining at them it wasn’t possible to see what markings, if any, were on it—not that it’d be possible anyways without a flashlight of her own. Did it have a loudspeaker? If so, they weren’t using it. Meg decided to force the matter and walked closer to it. “We’re kind of busy here, you know, saving the world.” Nothing. “Don’t look down at your phone. They can’t hear you, no microphone. Not stopping them from trying to read your lips—poorly, I’d say. They’re talking about Discord’s presence, for what it’s worth. Speculating he’s the cause of the darkness.” Well, technically, he was. Anyway, better they talk about him than herself, as far as she was concerned. She turned around and walked back to the other two. The drone did not follow; its camera, no doubt, had sufficient zoom. “Any progress?” Meg asked. Twilight almost shook her head. “It’s just too big and growing inside too bucking fast.” The magic beam ended, and she sighed. “I need a different approach. How long can you keep this up, Discord?” He grunted. “Not much longer.” Meg grimaced. “If we can’t get rid of it now, can you do something to stabilize it? slow down its growth? buy us more time?” “Maybe?” The alicorn looked up in thought. “Give me a minute to think about it.” Meg looked at Discord. “You have that much time,” he said. A slam. The door to the stairwell had opened and caught the wind. Several people came out, one with a camera precariously on his shoulder. The wind was not doing that camera any favors, but—unfortunately—it mostly stayed put. They headed their way. As Discord was maintaining the displacement and Twilight needed to think, dealing with the new arrivals was once again up to her. Lucky me. Meg walked forward to intercept them. A light switched on and rapidly sought her out. Soon enough a microphone was hanging in front of her. “Don’t bother them,” she warned. “They’re busy trying to get rid of the anomaly.” “What about the sky?” one of them demanded. “Is that Discord’s doing?” Meg cringed inside. It’d be so easy for the truth to be misinterpreted or spun. “It’s necessary for getting rid of the anomaly,” she offered. “Once we’re done here, things will return to normal.” It had damn well better. “So this is his doing?” It had been worth a shot. “Yes, this is his doing,” she admitted. “And I know you’re going to ask it, so I’ll tell you right now that the same thing that allows us to get rid of the anomaly and that changes the sky also allows him to exist here. It’s quite temporary, and as you can see he’s occupied with his current task.” The draconequus hadn’t budged an inch the whole time. The reporter didn’t immediately say anything. With that light in her eyes, she had no idea what they were doing or what they were looking at. “There is no apparent change in the anomaly. Was that expected?” Twilight was at the roof edge, hooves resting on the wall, staring at the anomaly, her mane furiously whipping in the wind. Her horn was not glowing. No point in denying the obvious. “It’s proving harder than expected.” “Could you tell us why?” It wasn’t as if the question was unfair, not that that made it any easier to answer. “I’m not the one to ask, and the one who is shouldn’t be bothered right now. She’s thinking.” The light began to move. The crew walked past her and over to Discord. He didn’t react. “Is there anything you’d like to say, Discord?” He ever so slightly shifted his head. “Yes, yes there is. I’m busy. I’ll turn you into mushrooms if you don’t leave me alone.” “Uh… sure.” The light settled on Twilight, for only a moment, then back to Meg. The crew moved back to her. “Can he really do that?” Could he? There was that one time he turned Angel into a rabbit-shaped collection of veggies. “Wouldn’t bet against it.” She smiled. “Don’t worry, he’s reformed. You wouldn’t stay a mushroom.” They glanced back at the motionless draconequus. “Yeah, we’re good.” Meg shrugged. “Don’t blame you.” “You spend most of your time in Equestria these days. Has Discord ever turn you into something?” So it was turning into an interview with herself. She wasn’t happy about that, but if it kept them away from the others… “Never.” “Is that because you rarely see him?” “Oh, I see him often enough.” Should I? Why not. “In fact, I just recently visited the theme park he’s been creating, on the other side of the Everfree Forest from Ponyville. Once it’s ready, humans and ponies will be welcome to visit.” Did Discord just twitch? He can thank me later. How she wished she could see their faces. “How would us humans get there?” Glad you asked! “A portal. Where it would open up here is a detail that hasn’t been worked out yet. Lots of details need working out.” “Any idea when this theme park will be open?” This wasn’t so bad; they weren’t asking about herself. “Not really, but I’m working on holding a brony convention there in the not too distant future. As you must know, it had proven… difficult… to hold one here.” “What… would prevent those disruptive elements from disrupting this one?” Meg looked back at Discord, who didn’t take the bait. So she answered for him: “Because they would have to deal with Discord.” With a vicious smile, she added, “It would make his day.” Oh, right. “Discord will be host and a Guest of Honor, by the way.” There, that should make Andrew happy. “What about you?” The question caught her off guard. Sure, she probably would attend, but that wasn’t what was being asked. Was she turning into a celebrity? She was certainly getting enough media exposure, if unwanted. “Maybe I’ll do a panel or two, but I haven’t made any decisions yet.” “Meg! I need your assistance!” Twilight was trotting towards her, with what looked like the spare magic generator hovering before her. The light turned on her, blinding her to a stop. Meg trotted to her instead. The reporters rushed to keep up. Not much could be done about them—or maybe Twilight would use a privacy spell? She did not. “I need you to carry this above the anomaly and drop it when I give the signal.” “A magic generator? But I thought—” “Won’t be a problem, trust me.” Meg started to go but stopped. “What’s the signal?” “I blast it with another beam of magic. Now go!” She threw a worried glance at Discord. “We haven’t much time.” Meg let actions speak. She grabbed the magic generator with her hooves—it was already turned on—and launched into the air. The wind yanked her towards the anomaly. She countered by flying in the opposite direction, gaining altitude as fast as possible. Devastation awaited her. Buildings here were designed to withstand earthquakes, not hurricane force winds. As for the interstate… it was too damn close to that giant hole in the ground. At least a quarter-mile in diameter. Half that as deep? Hard to tell in the dim red light. This had damn well better work. The destruction already wrought would have consequences for years—decades—to come. Who would take the fall for it? It looked like she was high enough to be safe. As she circled the anomaly, constantly climbing to fight the downward flow of air, she sought out Twilight and found her at the roof’s edge looking back up at her. No magic beam yet; must have been waiting for her to get into position. Meg couldn’t keep this up forever. Once on the opposite side from Twilight, she changed course to go right over the anomaly’s center and kept an eye on Twilight. A beam of magic hit the anomaly. Instead of going straight in, it spread out to surround it. Just as she reached the center, she dropped the magic generator and kept on flying. She didn’t look back; the news networks would replay it forever anyway. First thing she noticed was that Discord was gone. Once she landed next to Twilight she took a look at the anomaly. It was… anticlimactic. It didn’t really look any different, though maybe it was just the lack of light. The red sun was brightening. The displacement was reversing. Twilight was looking pleased. “What did we just do?” Meg asked. A microphone appeared over their heads. “A stop-gap measure,” Twilight responded, unconcerned about the eavesdroppers. “One of Star Swirl’s time spells, to be precise, that drastically slows down the flow of time at the outer boundary of the anomaly. It’ll work its way inwards, slowing its growth and consumption of air, buying us more time to find a permanent solution. The magic generator you dropped will help maintain that spell from within.” The wind was dying down. Her growing ear discomfort said air pressure was building up too. All the air that had already been moving couldn’t be stopped on a dime. “Will it be necessary to black out the sun when you do apply a permanent solution?” That question came from the reporter. The sun in question was already back to orange, though without blue the sky remained black and peppered with a few orange stars. The displacement’s reversal was going faster than its imposition. Twilight turned around to face the camera. “Quite probably. But as you can see everything is returning to normal.” “We can thank Discord for that too?” “Yes.” “Where is he right now, if he can no longer exist here but still can affect us like this?” “That’s… a bit complicated to answer.” You mean you don’t want to utter the word “hyperspace.” Not that Meg blamed her. “How does blocking out the sun help destroy the anomaly?” Twilight gave her best fake smile. “That’s really complicated to answer, and I owe you a comprehensible explanation someday, but right now I’m afraid I need to get going.” She invoked the return spell. Which left just Meg. And the news crew. “How will this limited success in managing the anomaly affect the president’s chances in the Senate’s impeachment trial?” Meg almost looked down at her phone to see if Serrell was still there. “Nothing I have to say will change anyone’s mind, least of all the senators’.” A cop out, perhaps, but still more true than not. “What about that trip to the past to observe the anomaly’s creation. Will that change any minds?” Should she just end this, like Twilight did? “Time will tell,” she said, shrugging. “Could you give us an update on that trip? Who’s been selected to go, when will it happen?” “I’m the wrong person to ask.” “Neither the president nor the princesses keep you in the loop?” When will this end? “Regardless of whether they do or do not, I’m still the wrong person to ask.” “Surely you can answer whether you will accompany the observers.” That’s it. “Yes, I could answer that question,” she answered, then invoked the return spell. Twilight was waiting for her by the mirror portal. “They interrogated you?” “You could say that.” A quick look down at her phone showed that the president was still on the line. “We’re back in Equestria, but you probably already know that.” “The talking heads are already arguing over what you two must be hiding, but that’s likely the lesser of two evils right now. The wind is dying off; that’s very good news. Whatever you did, it accomplished that much.” A brief pause. “Remains to be seen if it’s enough, for now anyway.” “Any comments about me promoting Discord’s theme park?” Twilight’s ears perked up at that. Apparently she had been either too far away to hear due to the wind or too focused on the anomaly to pay attention. “Would I be correct in thinking Twilight accompanied you on that trip to his theme park?” “You would be correct,” Twilight answered. “I have picked out a spot there for vetting potential observers, a place called Pandemonium Plaza.” A few seconds’ delay. “Not gonna ask. So, you’re not concerned about potential trouble makers?” “Not in the slightest. They would make Discord’s day.” A sigh. “Remains to be seen how that would make my day, but we’ll cross that bridge if and when it comes to that.” “You know,” Meg said, “we don’t know if any satellites were included in the displacement, do we? Since everything below visible light could cross the boundary, it didn’t affect communications with them. I’m just wondering if any of them snapped a picture of the Earth while this was happening.” “That’s a very good question. I’ll have my people look into that. I’m assuming the Earth will look a dark red, like the sun did to us?” “I would expect so, yes,” Twilight said. “Can’t wait for the talking heads to make sense of that. Other matters demand my attention, so goodbye for now.” The call ended. Meg grimaced. “Can’t wait to see what the talking heads have to say about me.” “Or Discord about the free advertising you gave his theme park.” “Well, he’s free to speak up now.” She looked around. “Like, right this second.” He did not appear. “Maybe he’s still tied up in hyperspace,” Twilight offered. “Why don’t we take back that stuff we borrowed from the warehouse.” Meg sighed. “Might as well.” Returning the computer and the magic casting machine to the warehouse in the past went as expected. The two guards were asleep on the floor. They had arrived close enough to their prior time of departure that others had not yet arrived, if any were even on their way. After completing their task, Meg and Twilight returned to the side tunnel of the cavern in Equestria. “Why don’t we get it over with,” Meg said, “and observe the creation of the anomaly?” “Are you sure? We’ll have to go back to that event one more time to apply our corrective spell. We’ll see our future selves in action.” “Do we need to wait until we apply that spell before taking back the observers?” Twilight froze, mouth part open. “That requires that we’ll be ready to apply the spell before taking back the observers, and I’m not sure that’ll be the case.” “Well,” Meg said, shrugging, “can’t hurt to try now I suppose. Worst that can happen is that the time travel spell fails.” “Right. We know we shall apply the corrective spell and that it will work. So if we can go back to that event now, there’ll be no paradox seeing our future selves carry it out.” Her horn lit up. “I’ll aim for tee minus one hour. Okay?” “Go for it.” Twilight closed her eyes and concentrated. Nothing happened. “We know it doesn’t always work the first time.” “Right, quantum uncertainty and all that.” It failed the second time too. And the third. “I’ll loosen the temporal displacement requirement. Hopefully it’s something specific about tee minus one hour.” Another four failures. “Maybe we can’t go back to observe ourselves,” Meg proposed. “It’s starting to look that way. I’m returning us to our present.” This time, the time travel spell worked. “Let me try once more. Maybe starting in the present makes a difference, though I can’t see why.” Meg shrugged. Five more failures. “That’s unfortunate,” Twilight said. “Can’t imagine what the paradox is.” “Me neither,” Twilight said, frowning. “But it is what it is. Nothing we can do but get that corrective spell ready to go, and to do that I must first do some research in the library.” “You go do that; I should go and give Andrew an update.” Twilight teleported. It was a safe bet he already knew what she’d said to that reporter, even if he hadn’t watched it himself. Indeed, when she picked her phone off the ground where she had left it—wouldn’t do to have time travel confuse its cellular connection—there was a message from Andrew. He knew. But what more could she tell him? She didn’t know how Discord had addressed her concerns with the theme park, or whether he had yet to even do so. She didn’t know when to schedule the meeting; Discord didn’t—no, he basically said just show up and he’d be there. Still, how would she get there herself? Take Twilight along also? Could she use the Zephyr without her? Hope Discord would zap her over? But in that case, how would Andrew and the others get there? Create a portal? From where? Meg groaned, then squeezed her pendant, resuming human form. Might as well get it over with, and the tunnel she was in was private enough. Find out when Andrew can do the meeting, and where he’d like the portal to be—within reason, of course. Holding phone in hand, she made the call.