//------------------------------// // 2 - Show and Tell // Story: In The City That Never Sleeps // by Moonatik //------------------------------// 16:11 - 16/06/1008 - Manehattan City Centre Raising her sword to the sky, Nightmare Moon stood as a colossus of triumph on the mountaintop. Bedecked in polished silver armour, a cloak on her back billowed in the wind. Above, the galactic night sky unfurled with the luminescence of countless stars. Behind, a vast army composed of ponies from all tribes marched in unison up the steps of the summit with the banners of the Lunar Empress held aloft. Carved into the stones stepping up to the summit were the names of every foe she had triumphed over up to this point. Discord, Tirek, Opaline, Sombra, Celestia. The final stone, under Nightmare Moon’s hooves, was marked ‘EQUESTRIA’. “My, how gorgeous,” Nightmare breathed, admiring the painting. “Such bold colours, such dynamic posing. All this as a display of awe and gratitude to me and my soldiers. Wouldn’t you agree, Nightshade?” “It’s alright.” Sol shrugged.  Given that it was her trip, Nightmare Moon had first choice over where to go, and she chose an art gallery. It seemed like the perfect synthesis between something she would understand whilst reflecting modern society and culture. What was art but an expression of emotions and sentiments? And what was an art gallery but a collection of those emotions and sentiments, laid out to be presented to outsiders? They took no bags with them, as Nightmare Moon could carry everything she needed in a pocket dimension. Money, ID, train tickets, and a large weighty canvas bag Sol wanted to bring but refused to explain, saying he wanted it to be a surprise. They went by train, journeying across the vast Equestrian landscape in a public coach amongst common ponies. She knew what trains were, and had often travelled by train herself for ceremonial purposes, but never in the public coaches. She kept her eyes wide and her ears out, picking up little pieces of conversation between the other ponies, but understanding little of it. As they stepped onto the platform at Manehattan’s Grand Central Terminal, another passenger behind them rushing off the train narrowly avoided bumping into the pair. “Is this darn thing ever on time?” the passenger grumbled to themselves. What a bizarre sentiment, Nightmare thought. The train was three minutes behind schedule. ‘Minutes’ didn’t even exist a millennia ago, back then it didn’t make sense to divide a night into such a small slice. She wondered how a pony could be so ungrateful over such a trivially small stretch of time. The pair soon made their way to their intended destination, the gallery in the city centre, which was only a short walk from the station. Art galleries and exhibitions had existed in Nightmare’s time, but they were all private collections, cordoned off from the masses, remaining the exclusive domain of their wealthy owners. But this gallery in the middle of Manehattan was open to all who could spare the time. There wasn’t even an entrance fee. Any one of her subjects could travel here and appreciate the finest art Equestria’s past and present had to offer. “Not really going for accuracy though, were they?” Sol chuckled at the painting. “Else it’d show half the soldiers with dysentery.” Suppressing a disdainful scoff, Nightmare turned her gaze toward the rest of the opulent exhibition hall. Massive canvases adorned the walls, their frames intricate and golden, each depicting a different aspect of her majestic reign. One showed her draped in resplendent robes and regalia seated atop the throne of Equestria. Another depicted her showering her grateful subjects in wealth and prosperity. Another of her commanding the surrender of Chrysalis’s lackeys in the changeling queen’s own throne room. Even the stained glass ceiling presented a stylised image of her carrying a sword to battle. Appropriately, it was named the Hall of the Empire, and in that moment the hall was solely hers and Sol’s to enjoy. Yet, the Hall of the Empire was meant to be open to the public. “Nightshade,” said Nightmare. “Hm?” Sol whirled his attention to Nightmare. “Neither you nor your wife alerted the gallery of my intention to visit, did you?” She cast him a downward glance. “No, why?” Nightmare turned again to gesture to the wider hall. “Then where is everyone?” Sol looked around the quiet hall. “I dunno.” “This museum is a popular destination for locals and visitors alike, it would not be this vacant unless the hall was emptied for my convenience. That is not what I wished for.” “They’re probably off somewhere else. It’s a pretty big gallery.” Sol walked up by Nightmare’s side.  “And this is the grandest exhibition,” Nightmare asserted. “Sure, but nopony needs to make a special trip to a museum to see pictures of you looking cool,” Sol said. “I must have seen five, ten big posters of you on the way here. Think one or two were prints of some of the paintings here.” “What else could be here then, to outshine my triumphs?” Sol winced. “Ehh, I dunno about… outshining your triumphs. But I read about the place on the way here, and there’s plenty of interesting pieces on show. I think they’ve got a few Jackson Fetlock’s on loan.” “Oh?” Nightmare raised an eyebrow. “Then take me to them,” she ordered. With a barely noticeable eye roll, Sol trotted ahead. With Nightmare in tow, he guided her away from the confines of the Hall of the Empire. The corridors that unfolded before them buzzed with a lively hum of life, contrasting the stately solitude of the hall. A brief journey led them to a room bustling with activity and an eclectic array of modestly presented paintings adorning the walls. Sol threw up a hoof towards the room. “See? Many more ponies here-” “Stars above, this painting has been vandalised!” Nightmare gasped. “Huh?” Sol spun around to follow Nightmare’s eyes. A painted landscape of a cozy village nestled amid tranquil rolling hills, obscured beneath a collage of harsh clippings of industry and military hardware across the canvas. Hastily cut monochrome photos of tanks, warplanes, smokestacks and factories had been plastered over a scene dotted with wildflowers and cottages. Upon a closer viewing, the collaged images formed the shape of an upward-facing crescent moon flanked by draconic wings: The symbol displayed on the Lunar Imperial flag. “Oh, no no, it’s meant to look like that! This is the art!” Sol said. Nightmare scoffed. “Art? It's an affront to the eyes! They’ve taken this picturesque landscape and buried it under all this other junk?” “Spot on!” A unicorn mare with her mane styled into neat curls trotted up to Nightmare and Sol. She wore a dapper bow tie around her neck, a vest around her chest, and a warm smile on her face. From the way she carried herself, prim and proper, Nightmare and Sol guessed she was part of the gallery’s staff. “The disorientation from the clashing elements is precisely what the artist had in mind.” Nightmare blinked repeatedly, quiet breaths and stammers leaving her lips. “Why?” “The artist is from Hope Vale. An idyllic, traditional Equestrian village, if it weren’t for the massive cement factory and the big apartment blocks recently built in the middle of the valley,” the mare explained, holding a hoof towards the piece. “Words can only convey the sentiment so well, so they turned to art. Clearly a reflection of the artist's desire to return to nature, mixed in with nostalgia as well as a condemnation of the imperial military industrial complex. While blunt, its bluntness is also its raw emotional core.” Her mouth hanging open, Nightmare looked at the art piece, blinked, then looked back at the mare. “What stroke of fate brought this here?” The mare smiled. “It was donated to us by a local businesspony who had bought it off of the artist-” “No,” Nightmare interrupted the mare. “Why is something so disdainful of Lunar progress permitted to be displayed?” The mare furrowed her brow, she then giggled. “Oh, that’s what you mean! We aim to show a diverse array of perspectives in this gallery, including more controversial perspectives. Our gallery is allowed a lot of curatorial independence from the local government, just as long as we reserve the largest space in the building for a big chintzy hall to show off-” She cleared her throat and rolled her eyes. “The splendor and beauty of our great Imperial overlord. Have to say, I barely ever see anypony in there. If you’ll excuse me.” The mare trotted away to help another patron, leaving Nightmare Moon dumbstruck. “Wow.” Sol was clearly struggling not to laugh. “Hey, look on the bright side, it means your disguise is working!” Seconds passed without Nightmare saying a thing. After getting over the shock, she shook her head and scowled. “Unbelievable,” she growled. She spun around and marched towards the nearest exit. “Come with me, Nightshade. We are leaving. Now.” “Hm?” The smile dropped from Sol’s face. He sighed heavily and followed after Nightmare. “Damn. And we only just got here.” While Sol managed to spot little glimpses of particularly eye-catching art pieces on the way out, Nightmare kept her eyes forward and her stride hasty. At the first exit in sight, she forced the doors open and stormed out into the adjacent park, muttering grievances to herself. “The nerve of those ponies, the utter nerve.” She said, making sure to put as much distance between herself and the museum as possible. “I deliver them progress, I sweep away the old decrepit order. And this is how they think of me!”  Sol ran up by her side. “Hey, hey, don’t take it personally. It’s all just politics.” “You saw the way that mare spoke, like the Hall of the Empire was an obligation they’d rather not bother with!” she shouted, stopping in her tracks. “Well…” Sol shrugged. “Now you know, right?” “Know that many of my subjects are infantile and ungrateful, yes,” she groaned, turning away from Sol and staring at the sky. “Hey, I wouldn’t go that far,” Sol said firmly. “But obviously, some ponies aren’t as satisfied as you’d like them to be, right? Now you know that, and have an idea or two as to why.” While he was talking, Nightmare remained quietly staring up. After a moment she spun around to face him. “Nightshade.” She marched up to him. “You’re a loyal subject of mine, aren’t you?” Brow furrowing, Sol frowned. “Of course I am, Your Highness.” “Tell me. If you had a free night to spend with a friend or your wife in this city, where would you take them?” Sol's eyes lit up, his mouth slightly agape in immediate astonishment. A moment later his face morphed into a giddy grin. “Why, Empress. I’d love nothing more than to show you that.”