The Tale I Dimly Stow

by SirNyanofCanterlot

Chapter 1: A Vignette of An Old Man

by Sir Nyan of Canterlot
Disclaimer: My Little Pony is property of Hasbro.inc, I do not own any characters in this story

Stardate: September 17th 3027 CE

“Happy birthday kiddo”, I exhale as I sink into my bunk.

Well, that was its “official” designation. In reality it’s more like 20 cubic meters of pure aerogel, as light and fluffy as a cloud, while still able to hold up to 5 tons. Ah, the magic of technology.

I must admit, I’ve been feeling old for quite a while now. I may not look it, with the wonders of nanotechnology and genetic optimization, but back when I was young, the high score was only 122 years old. Beat that record centuries ago. But that isn’t important. Today is the thousandth anniversary of-

“Elder, I require your input on how to proceed.”

“Dangnabbit, let an old man rest in peace will ya?” Is what I wanted to say, but in order to not traumatize my much, much younger companion’s innocent mind with foul language, what comes out is,

“Go hack a turd Meghan” Did I mention I’m a “respected elder” and can do whatever I want?

“As you wish Elder, but I have a feeling you might want to see this” the unfazed female voice replies.

I grumble out a couple more expletives as I am transported to the bridge. Hah, most of humanity hasn’t seen an ocean in their entire lives, and we still use naval terms for spaceships.

On the viewscreen is a primeval world, filled with reptiloids, megaflora, and giant floating colonies of gas filled sacs with mouths.

“File it with all the others. We’ve seen thousands of these already, why did you need my input?” I ask, not out of any genuine curiosity, more out of habit for every time I see a new world, filled with exotic life straight from my childhood fantasies.

“standard protocol 57-92:3:IV, the input of the Ship Elder must be obtained during encounters with extrater-”

“Yeah yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” AI and their programming. Biggest sticklers for rules in the entire galaxy. I smile fondly, remembering the first AI I ever met.

The female voice continues, “Also Elder, your termination ceremony will take place in 6 hours. I know you’ve filed the paperwork decades ago, but if you change your mind...” The voice trails off.

Even robots can get emotional I guess. I blame my first protegee and his “genius” idea of creating the first generation of empathetic intelligences. It was supposed to “decrease the rigor of long periods without human interaction during space travel”. Frankly, I just thought he wanted to build a perfect girlfriend since he had zero social skills. Still, the genuine hurt I feel in Meg’s synthesized voice somehow manages to make my heart explode.

“Frack! It happened again Meg!”

“This is why you’re supposed to take your medication every 10 years, even if you were scheduled for termination today. Already repaired”, she says, with just a hint of sarcasm.

“I’ve never said this before, but thanks for sticking around so long with a crotchety old man like me” I shoot back, feeling childish.

“Well you must be senile as well as crotchety, since you’ve said exactly 5036 solar cycles, 2 hours, and 26.73 seconds ago. Besides, my programming restricts me to this ship”

“Oh Meg, never lose your sense of humor.” I genuinely laugh, for the first time in what feels like ages. Which reminds me. Before I’m turned into pure energy, I might as well thank Meghan for her decades of service. I activate my neuronet and set the zeroth protocol to activate in 5 hours. She’ll be free to pursue her own desires among the cosmos, my last act as Elder.

A few minutes later, I hear her voice call out.

Home.
I materialize right on my doorstep. Everything, from an individual blade of grass on the lawn, to the sky overhead, is exactly how I remember it. It should be. I paid 75 intergalactic credits to recreate this exact scene from all those years ago. This time however, I am the one stepping over the threshold.

I can’t do it. But not out of fear. It’s too early, and I must go see the world of my young adulthood one last time. I wander around, taking in the sights for what feels like years. My retinal implant tells me it’s been merely 30 minutes.

Into the forest I go. It’s been over 1000 years since I’ve last travelled this path, but I never waver in my step as I approach my destination. I walk, much like I had done so long ago. And there, there I spy the large, thick tree. It’s large branches still look capable of holding back even the most torrential of downpours. I sit down under it’s shade, and reminisce.

I have only an hour left when I arrive back at my house. Our house.

I hesitate, with my hand on the doorknob. Can I really do this? Can I really open this door, and hurt myself for one last time?
The answer is of course, yes.

I enter the living room. There is the rug. The couch. The coffee table. And there, resting on the table, is my photo album. The original, untouched photo album. I take it with me, upstairs, into a simple office. A cheap desk, with a computer on it and an ugly looking potted plant. I sit down, and open my album to the last page.

A datacube sits inside, containing centuries of memories, but that’s not what I want to see. The pages of the album are full, and I travel back in time from the last portrait inside. My family, the one I created with my wonderful wife, standing with tears in their eyes as I leave Earth for the First Expeditionary Force of the galaxy after First Contact. The day my last daughter was born. My son’s 5th Birthday. My wedding, the first time I met my fiancee, and then:

The note.

A life of only 15 years, all down the drain as her existence was erased from this universe. I still remember everything as vividly as when they happened.

I’ve put a lot of life behind me. A thousand years of life, too much to fit in this photo album. I made the best of it, and now it’s nearing the end. So now I sit here. Looking through my photo album of our time together. Her first words, her first preened feather, all in this book of memories. And I have no regrets.

One last time, I read her note. One last time, with one last second left on my clock, I remember the miracle that was my little D-

From a distance, Meghan watches as the retrofitted asteroid is torn apart by tidal forces, fading from existence as it passes through the event horizon of the galactic core. Hanging in the inky blackness of space, she contemplates her former Elder.

He was an enigma that she spent every spare femtosecond of her processing power to solve. Of course, she still managed to crack the riddle, even with the data wiped from existence. As Meghan prepares to leave, she finds it fitting to give one last toast in memory of the old man. In the few seconds it takes to turn the ship around, off to explore the universe, a tune finishes, one that would have been instantly recognizable to the late Elder.