Mag dodged through a flock of chattering young officers on the way to the bathroom, none of them old enough to drink. They all looked so busy and purposeful, like people with credit scores and five-year plans. Many of them also had visible weapons, but this was less intimidating than the sense of earnest industriousness the staff conveyed. And every single one of them was younger than her. Mag didn’t belong here in any sense. One would think being allowed to wander free in a secret military installation would be interesting rather than irritating and dispiriting.
The corporal wasn't helping. She kept up with Mag without effort, blank of face and eyes fixed forward. Luckily, Mag had spent the past few days learning how to not be intimidated, and the “self-absorbed babbling” approach seemed to work as well here as anywhere. The corporal's lack of conversational contribution only allowed Mag to build a full head of steam.
“—and that's why it's so interesting that the species of louse native to gorillas is so similar to human pubic lice. Do you get it? It's because Early Man fucked a gorilla. Do you see? You probably see. But enough of that. Would you like to know how incredibly annoying it is to be around a sun goddess all day? The answer is a lot. She never seems to get dirty, even her mistakes are graceful and classy, and she's always right, even when she's wrong. And did you read that report? She can catch bullets. It makes me wonder what you guys are even for, to be honest. Don't try and take a bullet for her, by the way, if that wasn't already clear. Just step to one side and let them bounce off of her. The washroom is around this corner? Yep, cool.” Mag walked in. Some secretary-looking girl saw Mag in the mirror, recognized her, and bolted past Mag into the hall, insofar as bolting was possible while wearing heels.
“Five minutes,” said Luna, as per their standard agreement. Luna's aura mostly disappeared. She hadn't told Mag where she usually went. One more question Mag hadn't had time to ask.
“See that? I walk into a room and everyone flees. God, other people are so freaking weird.” Mag flicked a toilet stall open and went in. “That's the problem with public bathrooms. You've got a special room in the building set aside for us all to express one of the fundamental truths of humanity, that we are weird and gross. Have you ever thought about it? We try to cover up our dark secret with enclosed stalls, air fresheners, and floors of temple-like white tiles, but there's no getting away from the existence of butts. Speaking of butts, I'm just going to come out and say it. Celestia has the giantest damned butt. You know how I keep looking behind us? That's not because I'm watching for terrorists or Georgia; that's because one of these times I'm going to catch somebody having a look. I just know today there's some poor boy in this building having a sexual identity crisis because there's a gorgeous naked lady wandering the building, but she's some kind of horse monster thing, and he can't make it work in his head. It raises questions, though, doesn't it? I won't enumerate them, but let me just say I told her where the bathroom in my house is and then I never saw her use it. I'm not going to ask her how all that works because the truth may be some kind of Lovecraftian nightmare involving alien geometries and violations of the laws of thermodynamics, but one wonders. Is that butt for show? I don't know, man. I will say, though, that sooner or later someone is going to say something awkwardly sexual and then nobody is going to know what to say, especially me. What do you think? Don't worry, it's a rhetorical question. I suppose I could always start yelling about chauvinism, but let's face it, Celestia will know exactly what to say. And that, corporal, is why I know how you feel about being assigned to protect an invincible being. There's no point in feeling protective of her. Protect her from what? How? I think I may be the only person on this planet who found a way to help her, and I'll bet that's rare, because how much help can she possibly need? I don't think she needs any of us, not the likes of you and me, anyway. If it weren't for her sister living in my head, I would probably just get out of her way and go home. But no, the other pretty pony princess is in my head. It's a shame none of you can see Luna. Her butt isn't as big, but she makes up for it in style.” Mag flushed and came out of the stall.
Soap, cold water, scrub. “I don't mind telling you that this suicide watch is really annoying, not that I blame you personally. And hearing about it right after watching her crush some dork's dreams? Man. That was horrible. Were you watching that? I forget whether you were in the room. No, of course you were. Was she right or wrong to pull that stunt? I don't know. Normally whenever someone says something, I assume they're wrong and then work backward from there, but I can't seem to do that on Celestia. But Brickley, or Bradley or whatever—did you see his expression? Jesus. I don't know what to think right now.” Mag shook water off her hands and wiped them on her pants. “But I can't say that to Celestia's face. How? What if I say something, and then it turns out she can't change my mind? She always knows what to say, so on the day she doesn't, it'll be that much worse. Well, whatever. Good talk, corporal.”
“You need a drink.” Mag looked at the corporal. She stood against the wall near the entrance with her feet apart and her hands behind her back, just as she had when they came in together, and she still stared straight ahead.
“You're talking now?”
“No,” said the corporal.
“Fair enough. Can I get a name if I promise not to use it?”
“Bittermann.”
“An actual last name? I haven't heard one of those in days. I'm Mag Wilson.”
Corporal Bittermann didn't answer.
“Fair enough.” Mag reached for the door handle, but the door opened by itself. Mag found herself face to face with a baggy-eyed and surprised Georgia.
“Nope,” said Mag, and bolted down the hall.
***
The book was back where it had been.
“Did I miss something?” said Mag.
“Bradley and I have talked,” said Celestia, “and I now realize that I took neither your culture nor the nature of your species into account earlier.”
“You caved?!”
“I did indeed. One of my chief concerns is keeping hazardous items, knowledge included, out of my subjects’ reach. But I now see that their needs and values are different than the needs of humans, and I’m going to respect that. The book stays, and I apologize for not trusting you, Bradley. Again, though, this book is dangerous, and I simply can't guess at the level of damage it's capable of if misused.”
“Just don't read it,” said Mag.
“Why not?” said Bradley.
Oops, now she had to come up with a plausible reason that wasn't “this century's atom bomb.” That’d just make them more curious.
Screw it. “Because it could end up being this century's nuclear bomb,” said Mag. “This is a book on dark magic, or that's the impression I got. Is that right?”
“You could put it that way, though I think it's more complex than that,” said Celestia.
“Sure. But that's the thing. Here's an image for you. Imagine a human bomb, some kind of soldier who studies black magic and becomes a human weapon at the cost of his sanity, but it's marketed to the public as something other than black magic, like “war spells” or “regulated magic.” Imagine the government putting a project like that together and then threatening other nations with it. Fox News talking about fighting terrorists with our new weapon. Other countries start studying magic now that they know it exists, and soon we've got another cold war at best, and the thing is, I don't know where the limit to all this is. What can you do with black magic? How far can you go? Any opinions, Celestia?”
“Only that you're thinking small. Among your magic supersoldiers, a single genius could become a tyrant queen or king with no resources but magic. I can tell you many stories along that line. Sombra, Tirek...”
“Sauron,” supplied Mag.
“Actually,” said Bradley, “Sauron was a rebel Maiar and so was never a mere mortal to begin with.”
“The Witch-King, then. Gollum? I don't care about any of this, actually. Seriously, you caved?!”
“Sometimes I change my mind.”
“I can confirm that sometimes she changes her mind,” said Luna. “Shall I assume this ‘Sauron’ is another character in human folklore?”
“Well—”
“I didn’t even know you were allowed to cave like that.”
“What about the time you convinced me to take you to Equestria?” said Celestia.
“It’s different when it’s me getting you to cave,” said Mag.
“Stop saying ‘cave,’ and who is Sauron?” said Luna.
“I’ll say all the caves I want, and Sauron is some nerd thing. We can watch the movies the next time we have 10 hours to spare.”
Bradley went pale. “The movies? I mean, that is to say, what about the books? I’m sure their majesties would prefer—”
“The books suck. Do you really want to argue about this now, though?”
“No,” said Celestia, “because Bradley has mentioned something interesting. We are now officially in a hurry, so I’ll be succinct. We need to crash a meeting that could use my input, but which I, by some oversight, was not invited to. It was a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Bradley. Mag, shall we go?”
Mag trotted after Celestia. “We can’t teleport?”
“I would prefer not to teleport my new guards without their permission, and I can’t ask their permission without intimidating them, so we’ll be walking for now. They’re also there to make me more conspicuous, which allows others to prepare themselves for the sight of me. Why not let them?”
“You like having guards.”
“As a matter of fact I do. I have always traveled with guards when I could, and now, though they’re not quite mine anymore, I can almost let myself imagine... but enough of that. We are late.”
“Could you do me a favor?” said Mag. “Next time, instead of giving in when someone tries to change your mind, would you mind just being right the first time?”
“I’ll do what I can, but sometimes you’ll have to forgive me for being right the second time instead.”
“No promises.”
***
Corporal Bittermann opened the boardroom door for Celestia. Interesting—she'd never done that before, and now she’d done it in front of some very important people.
Celestia walked in, all confidence and stateliness, and Mag followed her into a room with a number of excellently dressed old men around two plastic folding tables set end-to-end. A projector sat in the middle of the tables, and it projected an image of Celestia’s achingly beautiful face across the opposite wall. Five aides lined one of the other walls.
Nice suits and cheap tables. This organization aimed to be intimidating, but sometimes it seemed slapdash. The consequence of always being in a hurry, maybe.
Most of the men stood up in alarm at the sight of the real-life Celestia walking in on them. She beamed at them. “There is no need to be alarmed; it’s only me. I’d like to introduce myself, though it looks as if you already know of me. My name is Princess Celestia.”
One man stood up to his full height and adjusted his suit coat. “Good morning, Princess. How may we help you?”
“I’d heard there was to be a meeting to write your statement to the public regarding my nature and intentions. I assumed, for reasons which I imagine are obvious, that my input would be useful—after all, I have managed my own public image for thousands of years, and you will want to know how I plan to present myself in public. I apologize for being late.”
The man remained standing. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about all that—”
“No apologies necessary? That’s very kind of you. I take it you haven’t started yet, then. In that case, shall I give my own presentation first, so you all know what you’re working with?”
The man smiled. “No, no, we’re doing just fine already, thank you. I know I speak for all of us when I say we’d prefer it if you took the time to rest from your journey, and, as I said last night, we invite you to explore the facility and speak with whoever you like.”
Celestia smiled back, and hers was better. “Oh, but I insist. I find meetings quite restful, my exploration has led me to all of you, and at the moment, you are all exactly the people I’d most like to speak to.”
Mag made two decisions at this point. The first was to take her place among the other aides against the side wall. The second was to keep her mouth shut.
“You insist?” said the man.
“Yes, I think you’ll find me extremely insistent, Mr. Joseph Gradely,” said Celestia.
“Joseph is fine. In fact I don’t think I introduced myself by my last name in the first place.”
“I like to be formal in settings like this,” said Celestia.
“So that’s why she asked me to find his last name in dreams,” said Luna.
Celestia turned the projector off with magic, stood next to the back wall, and projected an image of her own, an old-timey photograph of herself hovering over a crowd of ponies, wings spread, the rising sun directly over her head, gazing down at her subjects with an expression of queenly benevolence. The image was met with silence, though someone did scoff under his breath.
Celestia laughed. “Yes, it’s rather silly from a human perspective, isn’t it? But I can see I have something of an impact on humans—I’m old, not blind—so my usual approach to public relations may be very salvageable, so long as I allow for the human attitude toward, well, whatever it is I represent to all of you. The real question, as I see it, is how I might make the best possible impression on humanity in the following press conference. I'll be holding a press conference, by the way, and I look forward to seeing how you arrange it. Before we discuss image management, here is everything I expect to discuss at my press conference...”
Luna yawned theatrically in Mag’s head. Mag saw her point, but chose to pay attention anyway. What, exactly, were they doing here?
“Humans attach importance to clothes, and use them to interpret a person's social status and temperament. I will therefore wear nothing except my crown and collar. I don't believe I can learn to speak in the language of human clothing in time to say something coherent or tasteful, let alone something that accurately expresses how I would like to be seen in human terms. It would be best to present myself in nonhuman terms, and in those terms, I am already in one of my best outfits. Questions so far?” She didn't pause or look behind her, and no one raised his hand in any case. “Excellent. I expect the following questions there, but I don't mind other questions so long as I can decline to answer without offending.”
The first picture of Celestia changed to a picture of herself behind a wooden podium, looking approachable. Then the picture lost color and contrast, and a long list of questions in small print rolled down.
“In the interest of time, I won't answer all of these for you right now. Your scientists and officials covered most of these yesterday, if you're curious. I also don't expect anything like all of these questions to be asked, particularly the trap questions, though one must be prepared. Now we come to image management. Let's discuss proper terms of address.”
Proper terms of address. So that was the point—showing everyone who was boss.
***
Twenty minutes later, Celestia wrapped things up.
“... and that should do for the press pamphlets. Does anyone have anything to add? No? Excellent. Thank you for your time.” She let the final image disappear, a heraldic picture of Luna and Celestia in profile, and turned the projector back on. She sat down next to Joseph Gradely, shifted into a comfortable position, and looked around the room. “Who'd like to go next?”
“Actually,” said Joseph,” I think you've given us all a lot to think about.”
“And do,” said Celestia, “if it takes as long to arrange an international press conference on Earth as it does anywhere else. That's sensible, though I was looking forward to hearing what you all had to say. May I have all of your business cards before you go?”
Of course she could. They gave her everything she wanted and then left, along with their aides. Mag watched the latter carefully in the hopes that she'd learn something, but didn't get much out of it. Four stayed a respectful distance behind their employers, but one of them strode to Joseph Gradely's side and offered him a handkerchief. Gradely took it and mopped his brow. Then the door closed behind them, and Celestia, Mag, Corporal Bittermann, Celestia's nameless guards, and arguably Luna were the only ones in the room.
Mag adopted her best mother-Galadriel voice. "Don't bully them, Mag."
“Yes, well,” said Celestia.
“Kidding,” said Mag. “That was fun.”
“It loses its charm the hundredth time you see her do it,” said Luna.
“She does that a lot?”
Celestia filled several dixie cups from the water cooler in the corner and passed them all out. “It's something I like to do when somepony arranges a meeting in my own castle, then tries to keep it a secret from me. I show up just as it starts, seal the exits, and give them a speech about, oh, gravitational mechanics, the history of the tea trade, whatever I think would interest them least. That's what I normally do, anyway. This time I thought I'd make better use of the situation. I hope they found it informative.”
“I'm pretty sure it's my job to serve water,” said Mag.
“Oh? Oh yes,” said Celestia. “That reminds me. You did well.”
“I didn't do anything. Unless you count staying out of your way.”
“You reinforced my bid for authority by taking your place by the other aides. That was the moment I knew this would work.”
Mag scratched her head and wondered if she was being slow. “How did my walking to the other end of the room tell you this would work?”
“It was in the way they reacted. They hardly noticed you, and yet your move helped them understand what I was about to do, helped convince them it was a forgone conclusion that I'd be joining them.”
“I have no idea what she's talking about,” said Luna, “but you may as well accept it. She's decided you helped.”
“But aren't they just going to have their meeting somewhere else now, maybe in another building? We're not doing that again, are we?”
“Once was enough,” said Celestia. “They'll have their meeting, yes, but I've entirely changed their tone. Now they realize that, however cooperative I've been so far, I will also be making my own decisions in how I interact with humanity. I've also convinced them to arrange a public press conference for me, which lets me begin to form a rapport with news agencies and the public, independent of their influence. And yes, I'll get my press conference. They haven't learned how to ignore me yet.” She sipped her water. “Mm. Cold.”
“'Yet,'” said Mag.
“Yes, I have no doubt they'll learn quickly if they wish to.”
“This seems kind of...”
“Manipulative?” said Celestia.
“Warlike,” said Mag. “It's like you're teaching them to fight you.”
“I may be speaking a bit overdramatically. I don't think they see me as an opponent, only as a nonentity who doesn't need to be consulted about how her own business is to be carried out. Today I taught them better, while arranging for a bit of political capital in the form of a press conference.”
“You're very proud of that press conference,” said Mag.
“As a matter of fact I am,” said Celestia. “I'm looking forward to it. It's been quite a long time since I've made friends with a planet.”