A New Sun

by Ragnar


Conversation Two

Princess Celestia stood groggily in more or less the center of Mag's kitchen. Mag was relieved to see that Celestia could get bedhead, though she wondered how that worked, exactly. Yes, she'd ridden on Celestia's back and could theoretically have taken the opportunity to run her fingers through her mane for the sake of science, but she'd been preoccupied.

“I don't know how you like your coffee, so I put a bit of milk in yours.”

Celestia floated the mug of coffee out of Mag's grip. “Thank you.”

Mag poured herself a cup of coffee as well, black, and sipped at it. “The toilet and shower are through the door across from the living room. You know what a shower is, right?”

“I'm familiar with the idea, yes,” said Celestia.

“Ooh, you're sarcastic in the morning. Are you hungry?”

Celestia took a hearty gulp of her coffee and stood still for a moment with her eyes closed. Then she said, “I beg your pardon. Yes, I'm hungry. How is the local pine? It smells a bit piquant for a morning meal, but perhaps something bracing would help.” Celestia looked out the kitchen window. “Oh. It snowed.”

“You eat pine?”

Celestia scratched her chin. “Frozen pine really does sound like a bit much, now that you mention it. But I take it you don't eat pine, frozen or otherwise.”

“Never tried it,” said Mag. “I doubt I can digest it. I have some leftover SpagettiOs I was planning to get rid of, but I can make a can of chicken noodle.”

“What are SpagettiOs?” said Celestia.

“Pasta in tomato soup, basically,” said Mag.

“And what is 'chicken noodle?'”

Mag pinched the bridge of her nose. “Right, I should have thought of that. Listen, my species is omnivorous. I'm guessing you aren't. Is that all right?”

“So long as your prey or herd animals are treated with dignity and as much kindness as is reasonable, yes,” said Celestia.

Mag cleared her throat. “Um. Sure. Basically.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. “I see,” said Celestia. “I'd prefer not to know the details, but if I find myself addressing your United Nations, I may have a few polite observations to make.”

“No chicken noodle for you, then. Got it.” Mag opened her cupboard and found it to be mostly empty. “Problem is, I don't have anything else. Maybe I should go to the grocery store. How about this: describe a complete meal for a typical horse princess and I'll see what I can do.”

“You mean pony princess, but you're very generous.” Celestia drained what was left in her mug. “Let me see if I remember the human diet enough to predict the contents of its marketplaces—yes, I think so. Would you like to share a breakfast of bread, olives and wine?”

“How European,” said Mag.

“Where is Europea?”

“Europe? Up and to the right across the ocean, on American maps at least.” Mag closed her cupboard door. “Yeah, sounds decent. I'll be back in about 45 minutes.”

“If I may offer an alternate suggestion,” said Celestia, placing her mug in the sink, “you could wait 10 minutes while I bathe and then I could come with you. I'd like to see how your world has changed since I last visited.”

“Is that a good idea? You're a lot to take, you know. There's also the fact that you're alien royalty, and look the part.”

Celestia's horn shimmered. She blurred around the edges and turned into a human.

Now she was a willowy woman with dark black skin and delicate features, wearing some kind of cream dress that would have looked more in place on the streets of ancient Greece, or at least Disney's Hercules. Her hair was a mess of tight, unruly black curls.

Mag stared at her. “I have questions.”

“I bet I have more questions than you,” said Celestia. “Let's discuss it after I take a shower.” She nodded to Mag and walked out.

“Wait,” said Mag. “You can't wear that.”

Celestia poked her head back through the kitchen doorframe. “Why not?”

“One, it's like 20 degrees out and your outfit has short sleeves. Two, people stopped dressing like that 2,000 years ago.”

“I don't get cold and I'm used to standing out, but I have no objections to blending in,” said Celestia. “If you give me an example of modern winter dress I can change the glamour to suit.”

“I'll google around while you take a shower,” said Mag.

“I'm going to do it quickly so I can find out what on earth it means to 'google around.'”

***

Eleven minutes later, Mag caught the smell of her own shampoo as Celestia peered over her shoulder.

“Is this device called a google?” said Celestia. She'd changed back to her normal appearance. She was also completely dry in spite of the fact that Mag had forgotten to give her a towel or tell her where they were.

“It's called a computer.” Mag pointed at the tower by her foot. “That's the part doing all the work.” She gestured at the screen. “This shows the work, and these two things down here let me control it all.” She pointed at the metal shelf over her bed. “The black box up there is the router. That receives the internet signal and sends it over to the computer tower down here, and the tower sends...” Mag happened to glance at Celestia and trailed off.

“It's complicated,” Mag summed up.

“If I asked for more details, would I understand the answer?” said Celestia.

Mag snorted. “I hope you don't ask, because you've just heard everything I know.”

“Human invention has come far,” said Celestia. “I can feel the signal that travels from the router to the tower, but I can't read the code. The tower decodes this signal, then?”

“Yeah,” said Mag. “Hey, are you saying you've been to Earth before?”

“Yes, a long time ago.”

“How long ago?”

Celestia thought about it. “Well, it was just a day trip, so I don't think I could say for sure, but I recall much discussion in the city forum on the recent Roman conquest over the city of Carthage.”

Mag typed “roman conquenst of Carthage” into the address bar. Celestia watched her fingers with fascination as she did so. Mag pointed at the screen.

Celestia smiled. “Ah, I see. It says 'Google' at the top left. You've just 'googled' something.” Her eyes traveled down the page. “And I see it corrected your spelling without being asked. That's not entirely polite.”

Mag shrugged. “It does it automatically. It's not trying to be rude; it's just a computer.”

Celestia looked back and forth between the screen, the tower, the keyboard, the router and Mag. “Let me see if I'm following you. Together these objects form an encyclopedia and a dictionary operating by immensely complex, mysterious means, and you have nothing to say in its favor but 'It's just a computer.' Are miracles so commonplace in your life that you've lost interest in them, or are you trying to impress me by pretending to be bored with the wonders of your world?”

“Probably both,” said Mag.

“And it receives this information through the air in your house, emitted from an equally inscrutable black box sitting calmly on a shelf in your bedroom.”

“That's right,” said Mag.

Celestia sighed. “And apparently it can also display human winter fashions.”

“Well, according to this, you're at least 2,200 years old, so I guess we're even,” said Mag.

“2,200 years,” mused Celestia. “Yes, I suppose it's been a while.”

“How old are you?” said Mag.

“Old enough that your question has less meaning than you think, but I would call myself young,” said Celestia.

“Compared to what? Continents?”

“Well, worlds,” said Celestia. “I am as old as Equis, and Equis died young.”

Celestia sat down on the floor and stared at her hooves, and neither she nor Mag said anything for a while. Mag performed a Google image search of winter fashion and browsed for a few minutes. After a while, Celestia looked up and watched the screen beside her.

“These all look terrible,” Mag finally said.

“Do you think so? I think they're all very elegant. Look there.” She pointed with a hoof at one model wearing a white long coat and matching knitted cap.

“She looks like a tube,” said Mag.

“But an elegant tube,” said Celestia. “I'm going to try it.” She stepped away from Mag's chair and changed once again into a tall black woman, now wearing the long coat and cap. Celestia twirled, stumbled, and caught herself.

Mag looked her up and down. “Well, fine, that's not bad, but you still need shoes, socks, pants, a shirt and a purse. Let me look them up. Also, don't fall over.”

“Human legs are deceptively complicated,” said Celestia.

Shoes turned out to be more difficult. Celestia quickly found a boot style she liked, but it had high heels, which she couldn't manage to take two steps in, and the uppers didn't fit properly when she changed the soles into flats. Eventually, Mag managed to find a similar boot online without the heels. Socks were easy. Celestia's shirt mostly wouldn't be visible under the coat, so Mag just pointed out a simple cinnamon top with long sleeves.

The pants were a sticking point.

“I think you're joking,” said Celestia.

“Not in the the slightest,” said Mag.

Celestia crinkled her brow at the computer screen. “No, I'm fairly certain you're joking.”

“Do I strike you as a person who tells jokes, Your Majesty?”

“I would rather you called me 'Celestia,' under the circumstances. And I am a politician—I know a poker face when I see one.”

“But I would never lie to a unicorn,” said Mag. “What's the problem? Is it the color?”

“It's a bit bright, yes,” said Celestia.

“Oh, I'm sure you could change it. Personally, I think they'd look good in a dark shade of plum.”

“I could do that,” said Celestia.

“Good, I'm glad we worked that out together.” Mag rotated her computer chair to face Celestia and folded her arms. “Well?”

“No, I think we'll keep looking for more pants,” said Celestia.

“Is it the cut?”

“No,” said Celestia.

“Does the fabric look uncomfortable?”

“I wouldn't say so, no,” said Celestia.

Mag spread her hands. “Then what could possibly be the problem?”

“The fact that the pants say 'juicy' across the back in sequined bubble letters,” said Celestia.

“If the sequins look scratchy, you could always replace them with glitter,” said Mag.

“I think I'll just wear the same bottoms you're wearing,” said Celestia.

“Jeans? With that coat?” scoffed Mag.

“Well, yes, unless you have a third idea,” said Celestia.

“Jeans are out of the question,” said Mag. “The back pockets would get in the way of butt words, and I wouldn't dream of sending someone outside without butt words to go with such a lovely coat.”

Celestia folded her arms to mirror Mag's. “Do you have pants that say 'juicy' on the back?”

“Tons,” said Mag. “Piles of them.”

“Show me.”

“I'm already dressed for the day and I don't want to get up. Here, we'll compromise. How do you feel about leopard print?”

Celestia rolled her eyes. A pair of slim black jeans popped into existence between her boots and coat.

“Boring,” said Mag. “Okay, well, I already found your purse. A purse is a little bag for carrying things in, by the way, and most women have one when they go shopping.”

“I know; we have purses in Equestria,” said Celestia, “but I don't think I can imitate that. It doesn't correspond to any part of my real form.”

“Oh, is that how it works? Well, it's not compulsory.”

Celestia glanced at the screen one more time. “Is your purse a plush shark as well?”

“Nah, it's just this,” said Mag, pulling her gray cloth handbag toward her from the other end of the desk. “Let me get some shoes on and we'll go. Of course, the upshot of all this is that you're horribly overdressed for a grocery store run.”

***

The clouds had all gone away before dawn and now the sky was a solid cobalt blue. It hadn't snowed more than a couple of inches and now it was all turning to dirty slush. It would be a cold walk to the store. Mag walked with her hands in her jacket pockets and her eyes on the ground in front of her, watching for ice. Celestia looked at everything else; the trees, the asphalt of the road they walked alongside, the fog of her breath, the guard rail, a passing bird. She walked with her thin, ungloved hands folded in front of her.

“I found an unopened pack of Marlboros with a lighter sitting on top outside of a liquor store when I was 17, ran off with it, smoked my way through it over the course of the month, bought another when I turned 18, and made a habit out of it.” She absentmindedly fiddled with her jacket pocket. It had been a while since her last cigarette. Did she still hate menthol more than she needed a smoke? Yes, still.

“Very well,” said Celestia. “Your turn.”

"Hm," said Mag. “What are the limits on the shapeshifting?”

“Let's see. I can only hold it for a couple of hours at most, and it's technically not so much a change in shape as it is a form of illusion that fools both sapient creatures and inanimate objects. It doesn't work on animals, and the rare person will suspect me of something without knowing why.”

“You made that face yourself?”

“In a way,” said Celestia, fiddling with her nose. “I picked the dark skin so as to look foreign, which would help me talk my way out of social mishaps. Other than that, the shape is based on my true self. For instance, I am tall with a narrow face, so my disguise is tall with a narrow face. This is made of cartilage, yes?”

This sounded promising. “Yes. But if you can change the color and the clothes then you can change anything about yourself, right?”

“I haven't experimented much and I suspect there are limitations I'm not yet aware of, but possibly,” said Celestia. “I'll try something right now.” She shifted again.

“Whoa, check for witnesses first,” said Mag, looking over her shoulder.

“I'll be revealing my nature to your species sooner or later, you know.” Celestia's voice had changed. She stopped and looked Mag in the eye, smiling faintly. Now she looked more or less like Mag—but taller, and with a narrower face. Her skin was also darker than Mag's, with higher cheekbones and softer eyes.

“Huh,” said Mag.

“You don't look as surprised as I'd hoped. Did it not work?” said Celestia.

“Kinda,” said Mag. “You look more like me, but a bit different. Prettier, for one.”

“Oh, Mag, you're already as beautiful as you can be, which is to say very much so,” said Celestia, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Mag rolled her eyes. “Thanks, mom, but you're laying it on a little thick.”

Celestia gave her an unsatisfied look and changed back to her earlier human form.

“Your turn,” said Mag.

Celestia thought. “I have one. There's a substance your people seem to use often. Your computer is encased in it, as is the device that made coffee, and your jacket seems to be woven out of it. What is it?”

“Oh, plastic?”

“Say again?”

“It's called 'plastic,'” said Mag. “It's made out of petroleum, I think. We drill oil out of the ground and do something to it, and then it changes to plastic. It can be any color including clear, it can be soft or hard, water doesn't hurt it, and I think it's really cheap to make things out of. You're going to see it all over the place.”

“Doubtless named for its malleability. Fascinating,” said Celestia. “Your turn.”

“Yeah, I've got one,” said Mag immediately. “Do your subjects all look like you? Because I don't know if I could handle that, to be honest.”

“Not quite like me,” said Celestia. “For instance, most ponies are the height of my withers, or your navel. I could sketch a few of my friends if you liked.”

“Yeah, I'll want to see that,” said Mag.

“My sister, of course, looks a bit more like me. I'll sketch her as well.”

“Your sister?”

“Mm-hm. Princess Luna,” said Celestia.

“What is she like?”

Celestia touched Mag's shoulder again. “You know, Mag, I really appreciate that you're referring to the people of my world in the present tense.”

“You'll see them again,” said Mag.

“Thank you,” said Celestia quietly.

“But really, what is your sister like?”

The road bent to the left. The downward grade leveled off.

“How to describe my sister,” Celestia said. “We rule together, I the day and she the night. Physically, she is taller than our subjects but shorter than I. The tip of her horn comes up to the top of my head. Her coat is a dark blue and her cutie mark is of the moon—on one flank it waxes, and on the other it wanes. She walks the dreams of our subjects, offering guidance and comfort where she can, and where she can't help, she stays by their side in some capacity so they don't have to be alone. Luna also raises and lowers the moon.”

“What do you mean, raise and lower the moon?” said Mag.

“Just that,” said Celestia. “She uses her magic to move the moon along its correct path.”

Mag stopped and faced Celestia. “What.”

Celestia stopped as well. “Is something the matter?”

“You mean that literally. Your sister moves the moon around. How big is the moon? Is it small or something?”

“I couldn't give you the exact dimensions, but during my... tenure as the moon's custodian,” and for a moment a haunted, faraway look flitted across Celestia's face, “I judged our moon to be about 2,000 miles in diameter and eight quintillion tons in weight, where a mile is 5,280 feet and a ton is 2,000 pounds, a foot is this distance,” she held her hands a foot apart, “and a pound is... well, it's a bit less than one twelfth of a gallon of water, and a gallon is 231 cubic inches, an inch being one twelfth of a foot. Is something the matter?”

“So you two can move moons around. Eight bazillion tons, 2,000 miles across, no big deal.”

“You seem uncomfortable again,” said Celestia.

“Sorry, but that's terrifying. I trust you, but, uh, maybe you should gloss over that one when you're talking to the world leaders.” Mag shook her head and went back to walking. “You can move the moon,” she muttered. “The actual moon.”

“And the sun, which is 866,738 miles across,” said Celestia.

“Oh come on!” said Mag, throwing her hands up and walking faster.

Celestia walked more briskly for a moment to catch up. “I suppose I have my next question, then. How do your sun and moon move? Do you humans have some sort of device? I wouldn't be surprised, considering your people's immense inventiveness and, if I may say so, what seems to be a tendency to hubris.”

“The moon orbits us and we orbit the sun,” said Mag.

“You orbit the sun? How strange. But what are the motive forces?”

“Gravity,” said Mag. She was no astronomer, but she knew the basics.

“I don't quite follow,” said Celestia. She stopped. “One moment,” said Celestia, and closed her eyes. Her eyebrows lifted steadily higher over the next few seconds. “Your planet is repeatedly almost falling into the sun, and your moon is falling to Earth?”

“I guess,” said Mag.

“And no part of this fills you with existential dread,” said Celestia.

“Nah,” said Mag.

“But surely that plays havoc with your climate.”

“Nope, it just makes winter and summer.”

“The seasons work autonomously as well.”

“Yours don't?”

“No, we do it ourselves. Everyone helps. The pegasi influence the effects of the sun by moving the clouds and guide the migrations of birds, while the unicorns and earth ponies handle everything else closer to the ground, such as clearing snow or tucking in the animals that hibernate.”

“Okay, your world is adorable,” said Mag. “It's also cool that you've got pegasi. But what's an earth pony?”

“Is that your question?”

“No, that's an interjection,” said Mag.

“I find it interesting that you've heard of unicorns and pegasi,” said Celestia. “An earth pony has neither wings nor horn, but is gifted with talents relating to life and growth.”

“Cool,” said Mag.

“Your turn.”

Mag hesitated. She'd have to broach this one tactfully, and tact had never been her strong suit. She just wasn't good at being considerate. The vocabulary of her social skills consisted of blunt honesty, silence, and occasionally lying like a rug; telling the truth in a kind way was probably the best way to get through life, she had to admit, but she was neither kind nor honest by nature. There was a reason she lived alone.

Oh, well. “What happened to your world?”

Celestia gave a desolate smile. “I should tell you as much as I can for the sake of the mission, I suppose." She gathered herself, then began her story. "It was very abrupt. I was squeezing lemon juice into a mug of tea in the evening after a long day of meetings, every single one of them regarding a nicety of the most recent minotaur-griffin trade agreement and its impact on cacao seed prices—which is more interesting than it sounds, I promise you—”

“Minotaurs and griffins. Of course.”

“Hush, please,” said Celestia. “Yes, minotaurs and griffins. We can discuss them some other time. Now, as I said, it was abrupt. It began with a terrible wrenching sensation. I looked out the window and saw the moon fade away. The torches dimmed and went out. I set down my tea and went out to the balcony, and I saw all the lights of Canterlot flicker and die. The wind slowed and stopped. The usual susurrus of my living city went silent. I heard a crackling sound from inside, and saw that my tea had frozen over.

“The stars went out one by one and I had to use my magic to feel the world around me. I felt the stone of the walls and floors go smooth and lose their texture, and as they did my carpet sank into the floor. The walls dissolved into mounds, like sand. I tried to shine a light to see, but the only thing left was flat, uninflected gray, and the balcony overlooked nothing but black. The only thing left was a mirror. I shined my light brighter, bright enough to see for miles and blind anypony who might look at me, hoping someone, somewhere would see. I heard no one. There was nothing left, only gray floor, a balcony, the black, great piles of sand—and mirrors.

“The mirrors had survived, standing in place where they used to lean or hang from walls, sometimes even in midair above a pile of sand, and that's when I worked out what had happened. Reflections are the edges of worlds, you see. A healthy world sees itself, is self aware in a manner of speaking. When you look at a mirror, at the edge of the world, you should see nothing but the world reflected back on itself. A world is a seamless whole where every edge simply loops back around like a chain with its two ends connected, or perhaps like the inside of a sphere. Do you understand?”

“Honestly? No,” said Mag.

“It's all rather abstract,” said Celestia. “Suffice to say a mirror should reflect the world, barring a magical effect of some kind, and the mirror of my bedroom did not. It had turned into a frame of solid black, just like the view from my balcony. My world was dying. It could mean nothing else.

“I took off from the balcony and searched for survivors. I found none, only silence and emptiness. I didn't even find the ground; the dark simply went down and down, forever so far as I know. I looked back and saw that my castle had gone, but I could still see the mirrors, now standing on nothing. Then I noticed that gravity and air had disappeared along with everything else. There was nothing left but mirrors, empty space, and me.

“I have no words to describe how I felt. I couldn't speak, couldn't weep. I perched on the frame of a mirror and sat still like a gargoyle. Mag, did you know there is no limit to how good or bad a person can feel? Every century I discover a new height of happiness I had never seen before, and when I stood there at that point and looked at the last night of my world, I found a depth of grief that...” she faltered. “In my life I have lost many loved ones. I carry the memory of...”

Celestia went silent. For the third time in 24 hours, Mag floundered for something to say and found nothing.

“I was there for some time,” said Celestia at last. “Then I thought about it. I still lived. Why? Equis is all that I am, but it had gone dark and I'm still here. Looking after my world is my entire purpose. If it dies then I am nothing, in the most literal possible sense. Therefore there was some irregularity, and, anyway, surely the death of a world is more gradual than that. I decided that, while I lived, so did Equis in some manner. Perhaps I really am all that's left. Perhaps my loved ones will live on in my heart and memories and nowhere else. But I believe there is some possibility that I can salvage something of it, and I will not accept its loss until I've explored every possible remedy. There are unknown quantities at work here that must be examined. I can ask questions. And, once I've learned what happened, I will bring all the resources of a goddess to bear.”

Celestia spoke calmly, without bravado. Since this morning Mag had noticed it was easier to be around her, maybe because Mag was acclimating to Celestia's presence, maybe because Celestia was acclimating to Earth, but now that same numinous weight was back, crushing, suffocating.

“What do you call a fish with no eyes?” Mag choked out.

Celestia blinked. “I don't—”

“Fsh,” said Mag. “What kind of tea is hard to swallow?”

“Th—”

“Reali-tea. What's the difference between you riding a bicycle in a ballgown and me riding a tricycle in shorts and a t-shirt? A-ttire. Why did the scarecrow get promoted? Bec—”

“Because she was outstanding in her field,” said Celestia.

Mag took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out. “Right. Take note: bad jokes help with that thing you do.”

The corner of Celestia's mouth twitched. “Duly noted. Well done.”

“Yeah, that was clever of me. Hey, look. It's the big wooden bear. We're in town.”

Celestia looked up at the bear. It stood nearly as tall as the pine trees littered through town. Mag had no idea where it had come from or who had made it.

“I like this bear,” said Celestia. “Does it serve a purpose, or is it there for the sake of art?”

“I think it's just kind of there,” said Mag.

“Well then it's doing an excellent job,” said Celestia. She smiled up at it and then at Mag, and Mag wondered how real the smile was.