//------------------------------//
// 2 - Emergency Protocols 
// Story: Friendship is Software 
// by Rough_Draft 
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Sitting in the back of a small yellow cab that sped around the corner and up Trenton Avenue, Twilight and Spike could only sit and marvel at the chaos spreading through the city. They saw amber lights flashing everywhere as Emergency Service agents and androids were deployed. Twilight’s heart sank when she saw families streaming out of their residential towers, queuing up to receive blankets and rations from the grim-faced authorities in sky-blue uniforms. With their domestic assemblers shut down, government handouts were all they had left to live on.

Overhead, the air was buzzing with a hundred delivery drones—all running on their reserve batteries now that the power-supplying Grid was out of commission—and infrequent squalls of rain. The atmospheric bots that handled climate control were on the fritz, meaning a sixty percent chance of rain and thunder, if not more. Spike’s ears perked up as the first drops splattered against the cab window on his side.

“You sure gotta wonder how bad things used to be before the Integration,” he remarked. When he saw Twilight’s disapproving frown, Spike dropped his head toward his paws. “Uh, then again, maybe we’re about to find out for ourselves.”

“I don’t know, Spike.” Twilight sighed and sank back into the warm leather seat. Her eyes drifted shut. “But I’m sure the Administrator will have all the answers. If anyone knows what’s going on, it’ll be her.”

“Speaking of which…” Spike pressed one paw against the cab window, pointing with his snout. “We’re almost here.”

Up the road stood a massive white-gray complex, bigger than even the beacon tower where Twilight lived. The structure was vast and pyramidal, with glowing blue strips that ran vertically on all sides, pulsing with eldritch light. A hundred windows stared out at Trenton Avenue, through which one could see dozens of android and human staffers passing through. Twilight blinked and increased the magnification on her visor.

At a hundred-and-ten degrees magnified, she could see the panic on those workers’ faces as they raced past each window. Suddenly, the Palace seemed far less reassuring.

Even so, billions upon billions of data packets flowed through this great facility. It was like staring into the interior of a beehive. Twilight’s own implants began to tingle when as the cab drew closer. Even with the whole Grid in disarray, this place still retained its prestige in the global network.

The cab hummed as it came to a halt. Its automated driver chimed in with a synthetic male voice. “Welcome, Miss Sparkle, to the Central Apparatus Palace.”

“Th-thank you.” Twilight swallowed and patted down the front of her smart-silk jacket. It was her first day at the Institute all over again. She took a moment to collect her thoughts and fight off her adrenaline surge.

Now she regretted drinking that stim-shot earlier. If Twilight wasn’t careful, she’d get a headache or become dizzy right when she was face-to-face with the most powerful person on Terra.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. In her head, she saw Cadance in the park, practicing the sweeping arm gesture as she let her fears flow out and quiet confidence flow back in. A directed flow that carried oxygen to the most essential cells, stimulating her nanomeds that purged toxins and any chemicals on her bio-directory’s watch list. A hundred thousand little bots and vat-grown bacteria that ate away all her fears and dread in tiny determined bites.

There was too much fear in the air right now, both inside and outside the Palace. It wasn’t like Twilight would do any good bringing a new batch of terror into the mix.

“Better?” asked Spike.

Twilight opened her eyes and smiled. “Yeah, much better. Let’s go.”





Even with an official summons, Twilight and Spike still had to endure no less than three separate checkpoints inside the Palace. The Central Apparatus staff took security seriously enough that they even subjected Spike, a perfectly ordinary uplifted canine, to two deep-tissue scans for weapons or espionage gear. Twilight, meanwhile, found it simpler to stand still and recite the names of constellations in her head while a pair of female officers in severe black uniforms ran their handheld MRIs over her body while asking a battery of questions.

Once, she would’ve protested this, but given the emergency in Citadel—and quite possibly the whole Arcadian continent—she knew better than to raise her voice.

Fifteen minutes later, they were being led down a soft white-and-red corridor toward a set of gray doors. Twilight could tell that this was the path to Celestia’s domain by all the holo-portraits on the walls. The animated faces of Forum Administrators and Heroes of Terra met her gaze, offering friendly nods or stern looks as she passed by. A chill ran down her spine, which had nothing to do with the icy air conditioning in the hallway.

Leading Twilight and Spike was an older woman in a white tunic with a trio of badges running down the left side of her breast. Her dark hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail and her eyes were focused on whatever content was streaming through her data goggles. A quick search of her ID tags revealed her name and title as Raven, Personal Secretary to the System Administrator.

“Because of the sensitive equipment in the Administrator’s Office, you will refrain from accessing any unauthorized netsite on your visor,” said Raven. She walked ahead with a slow but confident stride, allowing her two guests to keep pace. “You may accept whatever data stream she provides access to, but for the sake of network security, you must consult with either the Administrator herself or me about keeping any sensitive information in your logs. Is that clear, Miss Sparkle?”

Twilight ducked her head. “Very clear, ma’am.”

They came to a halt at the two large doors, which bore no obvious markings. Raven stepped in front of Spike and lifted her hand. Twilight watched as a faint green light danced over her palm, then over her goggles. The silent exchange lasted for only a few seconds.

The doors slid open, unleashing a powerful torrent of wind and light. Spike wrapped himself around Twilight’s legs, his tail twitching against the sudden surge of input.

As Raven stepped inside, Twilight stared in openmouthed awe.

Massive was the best word she could think of that would do this place justice. But majestic would’ve worked, too.

In the arena below, thousands of cylinders lined the walls, forming an impressive constellation of pulsing red, blue, and green lights. Twilight immediately recognized them as Cicero-model TVN power generators. The lights cast long and flickering shadows over the arena, revealing a series of plastic cables snaking across the vast office floor. Heat radiated from each generator and cable, but the blistering warmth was offset from a constant downpour of air from six giant ceiling fans that spun quietly without pause. The effect made Twilight break out into a light sweat and develop goose bumps at the same time.

And every cable that lay on the floor led straight toward a single chair—no, upon closer inspection, it was more like a throne—planted in the middle of the chamber.

The System Administrator of Terra sat on her throne, bone-white from a lack of direct sunlight, but beautiful nonetheless. Her long coiffure, streaked with green and violet patterns, fell around her body in coils, forming a natural cushion to her own backside. Her attire matched Raven’s, save only for more gold filigree running along her sleeves and pant legs. And atop her head was a small coronet, in which a single ruby light shone. The Cognitive Crown that so many professors at the Institute spoke about with hushed voices and dreamy smiles.

“Welcome, Twilight Sparkle,” said Celestia. Her warm voice echoed through the massive chamber, carried along by discreet microphones implanted near the base of her throat. “I apologize for not rising to greet you, but I’m afraid that the circumstances won’t permit it.”

Twilight frowned, but when she increased the magnification on her visor, she noticed what the Sysadmin meant. Her sleeves had been rolled up, revealing an IV tube full of saline solution inserted in her left arm and a fiber-optic cable in her right.

“Th-that’s quite all right, ma’am,” Twilight stammered. She ducked her head again. “Thank you for inviting me—”

Celestia chuckled. The sound bounced off the walls and struck Twilight deep in her bones. “Be honest with me, Twilight. Are you afraid to be in here?”

Twilight’s throat had gone dry. She could barely find the words to answer.

“Heh,” Spike barked. He sat beside Raven, smiling up at the throne. “Afraid is putting it nicely.”

“Spike!” Twilight hissed, but she stopped when she heard the Sysadmin chuckle again.

“Your candor’s appreciated, Spike.” Celestia leaned back in her throne, resting her hands in her lap and smiling at the dog. “It’s quite refreshing. Wouldn’t you agree, Raven?”

Celestia’s secretary nodded, almost wearing a smile of her own. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you. That will be all for now.”

Raven bowed her head and spun around on her heel. Her eyes were still focused on the inside of her data goggles as she left the massive chamber.

Once the doors were sealed shut behind them, Twilight forced herself to look up at the Sysadmin. It was strange to think how human she looked, even when every fiber of her being was suffused with fiber-optics and nanoscopic processors that formed the central server of the entire Grid. Even now, while she sat and spoke in this room, Celestia’s enhanced nervous system was continuing to manage the vast signal exchange of the global network, setting up firewalls and running packet exchanges faster than the speed of light.

Under those terms, it was easier to see the Sysadmin as less of a highly enhanced mortal and more of a straight-up goddess.

“Tell me, Twilight.” Celestia touched a control on her throne, causing a blue holographic table to materialize in front of her guests. “How much do you know of pre-Integration history?”

“Oh, well…” Twilight felt a blush coming on and tried to keep her polite smile frozen on her face. No Institute exam could compare to the dread she felt in this place. “I only know the basics. The daemon wars, the founding of Citadel, the five cycles of the original Net—”

“Yes, but do you know about the price we paid for Integration?”

Twilight blinked. “…No?”

“Very few do.” Celestia’s smile vanished, leaving her face cold and ancient once more. “I must ask you not to reveal this information except to the people I designate as trustworthy. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes,” said Twilight. Spike merely nodded and huddled against her leg.

Celestia waved her right hand and the holographic table sprang to life. Light twisted into three-dimensional shapes, revealing an older model of Citadel and thousands of people walking through its magnificent streets. The Sysadmin waved her hand again and the scene changed to a display of two women standing atop a balcony, looking down at the city. The woman on the right was Celestia herself, whose hair flowed out behind her in the breeze. But Twilight didn’t recognize the one on the left.

She was shorter, wearing a black uniform and a silver coronet. Her face was much sharper, but she shared a few of Celestia’s features, such as her nose and cheekbones. Her expression was also far grimmer, like an upset panther on the prowl.

“When we first launched the Grid,” Celestia declared, “I was not alone. My sister and partner Luna was often by my side, helping me to identify and collect the millions of data streams from around the world. My responsibility lay with designing the hardware that makes the Grid possible, but Luna was superior to me as a coder.” Her eyes moved from the holo-display to Twilight’s face, settling there with crushing weight. “She was the original Network Administrator.”

A lump formed in Twilight’s throat. Of course she’d heard the rumors about a Network Admin working in the shadows, but she’d dismissed them as old coders rambling. Why would Celestia have needed such a person when she could run the Grid herself?

Meanwhile, the display changed again. Now Twilight watched as Celestia and Luna stared each other down—inside the Administrator’s Office, no less. The sisters were glaring fiercely as Luna snarled some invective at her elder sibling; without audio input, Twilight couldn’t tell what was being said, but she could tell it wasn’t anything good.

“We didn’t realize that there was a sentient virus lurking in a distant corner of Arcadia,” Celestia continued. “The Nightmare virus, created by a slicer whose identity remains unknown to this very day.” She paused to let that terrifying truth sink in, while Twilight fought to keep her knees from wobbling. “When Luna encountered the virus, it invaded her very core. As the corruption took root, she became a threat to the very system we were working to create.”

On the holo-table, Luna raised her hand and unleashed a shimmering cloud at her sister. Nanobots, Twilight realized. Millions of them, thick enough to create a visible cloud in the open air. The swarm lashed out at Celestia, who raised up a shield of brilliant light in the nick of time.

Twilight and Spike continued to watch the fight play out, as the sisters dueled for supremacy. But slowly, Luna’s attack was beaten down. The shield that protected Celestia spread outward, engulfing the hostile nano-swarm. Twilight watched as the younger sister dropped to her knees, her face twisted in a mask of anger and horror as her own bots took hold of her. The young Celestia knelt on the floor, coordinating the entire swarm with her hands while tears ran down her exhausted face.

“I saved the Grid that day,” said Celestia from her throne. Her voice was actually choked with emotion—something that Twilight would never have guessed was possible until today. “But the price was my sister’s freedom.”

Sniffling, Twilight had the ridiculous urge to run forward and hug the Sysadmin, but she knew it’d never be permitted. A hundred security alerts and countermeasures would stop her dead in her tracks—literally, if the rumors were true.

“The attack left Luna’s mind damaged, but not permanently. To ensure her safety and to keep the virus dormant inside her, I had her placed in a stasis pod deep inside the Vault.” Celestia’s hand moved again, changing the holo-display to the image of Luna being placed inside a gleaming black pod while a younger Celestia looked on. “That was why the Vault was created. It wasn’t a punishment. It’s supposed to be a refuge for healing for all citizens, both organic and virtual, so long as their suffering is too severe for any clinic on the surface. And no one had suffered more than my dear sister.”

Silence fell across the chamber, broken only the distant background hum of the generators and ceiling fans.

Then, Spike tilted his head to the side and looked up at the Sysadmin. “If you’re telling us this, then does that mean…?” His tail began to curl up on itself. “That’s she’s back?”

Celestia closed her eyes and nodded. “Sadly, my sister has not returned as her true self. It’s her corrupted self that has awoken and broken free into the Grid.”

“Her corrupted self?” Twilight repeated. She glanced at the static image of Luna lying in the pod, with her hands at her side. Sleeping peacefully, or so it seemed.

“The virus formed a dissociation inside Luna’s mind,” Celestia explained. With a tiny wave of her hand, she dismissed the holo-table altogether. “She came to believe that she was a collective being who had only woken up from the ‘illusion’ of being my sister Luna.”

The Sysadmin bowed her head, suddenly looking very small and sad to Twilight’s eyes.

“And she called herself Nightmare Moon.”





Walking was difficult after her long slumber inside the stasis pod. But at least the girl called Sunset Shimmer was in peak physical condition. Now that she was returned to the flesh, she could finally exert real influence in the Grid.

“We will not be denied, we will not lose our way,” said Nightmare Moon, savoring the rush of electrical signals through her new brain and the air moving through her lungs. “Celestia will pay. Yes, she’ll certainly pay…”

It was fortunate that Sunset Shimmer had access to Admin Level Three controls. A mere tap of her touchpad showed Nightmare Moon every personnel file inside the Vault. She sneered. Of course that traitor sister Celestia would create such an elaborate prison and call it “The Vault.” How preposterous! Was there no end to her arrogance?

Every personnel file had a six-digit security code, one that a senior developer could use to summon them at a moment’s notice. One by one, Nightmare Moon typed in and launched every worker’s code from her touchpad. And with each code sent, she added a simple text message.

Sunset Shimmer: Emergency Protocols are now in effect.
Sunset Shimmer: Please report to the observation deck.

A simple lie, but she knew from Sunset’s memories that the staff would obey without question. Things worked differently in the Vault than they did in the surface world.

And Nightmare Moon was looking forward to showing them what a real emergency looked like.

“Feast upon their minds, drink up all their fears…” While she waited for them to assemble outside her control chamber, Nightmare Moon began to prepare a fresh batch of attack vectors and trap tags for her soon-to-be minions. The touchpad beneath her fingertips sprang into action, building such beautifully intricate layers of code at a moment’s notice. “With their hands and thoughts, my power becomes clear…”





Twilight shuddered. She rubbed at her temples, still trying to process all this information. It was too much for a poor little stargazer to handle.

It was funny, actually. All she’d ever wanted was to stand right here, in a private audience with the great Celestia. Now all she wanted was to go back home, gazing at the stars and writing code for the Institute.

“I’m sorry, but I still don’t understand.” She lifted her head to the Sysadmin. “What exactly can I do about this?”

Celestia smiled, making Twilight feel warm inside—all her doubts erased, for the moment. “You have a crucial task ahead of you, Twilight Sparkle. You must go down into the Vault and reactivate the Source Code Shield.”

As she spoke, a new holo-table appeared in the space below her throne. Twilight saw infinite lines of raw code sprawling past. Layers upon layers of code that she couldn’t begin to comprehend, although one or two pieces seemed familiar. She couldn’t figure out why since the code was streaming too fast for her visor to track.

“I used this very program to coordinate my defense of the Grid against the Nightmare virus,” Celestia explained. She waved her hand and the lines of code folded up into a small blue square, floating harmlessly over the floor. “It is the only item in the Vault that Luna’s admin clearance cannot locate, let alone access.”

“But if an Admin can’t get it, what makes you think I can?”

“On your own, you can’t.” Celestia waved her hand again, reactivating the holo-display. “But I would never send you into danger alone, Twilight.”

Five new figures appeared on the holo-table, all young women. Twilight looked them over with interest. They all seemed to be around her age, wearing a variety of clothes and hairstyles and implants. She doubted she’d ever see a more unlikely group of people in one place.

“While I’ve been tracking your progress with great interest,” Celestia continued, “you were not the only one. I’ve kept an eye on these five young coders as well over the years. If you can gather them together and lead them into the Vault, your combined skills and program experience should be enough to help you activate the Source Code Shield.”

Twilight froze. “Find them. As in, go out and…” She swallowed. “And talk to them?”

“Yes.”

Beside her, Spike chuckled. “Sorry, Administrator. Twilight’s not the best person at talking to strangers. Not in real life, anyway.”

Twilight stamped her foot so that she wouldn’t be tempted to kick Spike in front of Celestia. Meanwhile, the Sysadmin chuckled and leaned back in her throne.

“Believe me, Twilight, I know that this won’t be easy for you. But I also know that you’re much stronger and more resourceful than you give yourself credit for. And if I didn’t have faith in these five young women, I wouldn’t be sending you out now to collect them for this vital task.” That expression of ancient, heartbreaking sadness swept over her face again. “And if you six can’t achieve this together, I’m afraid that this danger won’t be contained inside Arcadia for much longer.”

A second protest died in Twilight’s throat. She glanced down at her hands, now clenched tightly together.

What was she really afraid of? She’d made friends before—true, they’d been online only, but it still counted. But that was just it. She couldn’t fathom talking to someone new even when everything was fine. Trying to talk to someone in a middle of a terrifying crisis, without the shield of a functional Grid, filled her with an ice-cold wave of mortal dread.

But when she weighed that fear with the terror of what Nightmare Moon could do…

“Okay,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. “If you think that the six of us can do this…”

“I do.” Celestia’s tender voice seemed closer now, even though Twilight knew she was still sitting on her throne. “I have nothing but faith in you, Twilight Sparkle. All you need to do is show your new friends that same faith.”

As she finished, Celestia tapped another control on her throne. Twilight turned around as the doors to the chamber slid open. Raven walked in at a brisk pace. She came to a halt beside Spike and clasped her hands behind her back with a patient smile.

“Raven, Miss Sparkle has agreed to take the assignment,” Celestia announced. “Will you please let the clinic know? They’ll need time to prepare.”

“Yes’ ma’am,” Raven answered. She lifted her wrist and began to type a message on the keypad she had secured there.

Twilight glanced back at the Sysadmin. “I-I’m sorry, what clinic is that?”

“If you’ll allow it, there is a network implant that you’ll need to receive in order to coordinate your new friends and activate the Source Code Shield.” Celestia waved her hand as her holo-display projected the image of a silvery six-pointed star. Its chrome surface shone brilliantly, with rainbow lights flickering on each point of the star. “Hopefully, this implant should also protect the six of you from any intrusion that Nightmare Moon might attempt on you.”

Twilight felt another shudder coming on. She’d undergone a few clinic surgeries before, but the thoughts of needles and flesh being cut made her stomach churn.

“I’m sorry if this seems bold,” she said quietly, “but would it be possible for me to be fully anesthetized for this operation? I’d rather not… well, I have a thing about blood and needles…”

“Of course.” Celestia nodded at Raven, who made a note of it on her wrist pad. “We will strive to accommodate you in every way, Twilight. Rest assured, you’ll be in the most professional hands…”





“Twilight? Hey, Twilight! You’re awake…!”

“Wha…?” Twilight’s jaw dropped open. Her whole mouth felt like it was coated in sandpaper. She licked her lips and tried to sit up in bed—only to cringe when she felt an odd tingle on the back of her neck. What in the name of sanity was that?

Spike jumped up onto her bed, licking her face and nuzzling her. “The surgery worked! You’ve got a brand new toy to obsess over!”

When Twilight didn’t respond right away, he jumped off the bed and moved to the nightstand beside her. Twilight blinked and took in her surroundings. Septic white walls stared back at her, bare except for a blank screen opposite her bed and a vase full of cloned roses on a small table by the window. Everything was quiet and dark in the room, but outside the closed door, she could hear voices murmuring and someone wheeling past a tray.

If she had to guess, this was the first-class clinic that Celestia had mentioned.

“Hrr,” said Spike, muffled by the vanity mirror he gripped in his mouth. Twilight took the mirror and looked at her reflection. When she felt another tingle on the back of her neck, she twisted her head around and pointed the mirror at a different angle.

She caught a glimpse of the new implant. A six-pointed metal star embedded at the base of her neck, linked right into her nervous system. Tiny LEDs flickered on each point of the star, flashing through pink, blue, red, violet, and orange. In the center of the star was a dull white LED that didn’t shine.

Intuitively, Twilight tried to access it through her nanomeds, but she got nothing. Just a blank entry. She sighed and let the mirror drop onto the nightstand.

“The surgeons told me that you wouldn’t be able to activate it until we find your friends,” said Spike. His ears perked up. “Speaking of which, you should get your rest. We’ll be leaving in a few hours.”

“My friends,” Twilight muttered. She rolled her eyes, even though moving her head was still a bit painful. Gently, she lowered herself back to her pillow. “My real friends were on the forum before it got shut down. I doubt these girls are going to be that easy to get along with.” She paused as the rest of Spike’s words sunk in. “Wait a minute. Where are we going? And how?”

“The Sysadmin arranged for a fast rail to Oldtown,” Spike announced with a grin. “We’ll be there in no time!”

“Oldtown?” Twilight groaned and closed her eyes again. Maybe if she lay in bed long enough, this would all turn out to be a bad dream and nothing more. “Oh, yeah. This’ll be great.”