Dawn shone through the windows. Normally, Celestia would be already awake and pulling the blanket off my bed. Only last week my biological clock caught up and I could wake up on my own, but she'd still pull me out of bed. Today, though, after a while of listening to silence, I got up on my own.
Still in my underwear, I tiptoed to the living room. Celestia was still on the rug, where I had left her last night, but a tipped chair and the stable door slightly ajar meant she had used “her bathroom” during the night.
I picked up the empty bowl, which I had left full of water in the evening, and refilled it in the kitchen. A couple of pills of alka-seltzer went in, and I set it by her face.
Breakfast. Three frozen bags of stir-fry veggies, Chinese style, landed in the frying pan. Garlic bread, tea. Celestia claimed to be a tea connoisseur, but finding a brand that would satisfy her elaborate palate took me forever.
I heard the bowl ringing on the floor, then unsteady clopping of hooves. A creak of the stable side door. Then the hooves returning in a slightly more steady pace.
The disheveled mare wobbled into the door.
“Hello, my sunshine!” I grinned to her from over the frying pan.
She nodded to me tiredly. Then her gaze wandered to my underwear, and the gears in her head began spinning with effort. I saw panic rising in her eyes. She backed up into the wall behind her and sat on her rump, gasping hard.
I couldn't hold back. I snorted with laughter. “Gotcha! I knew this would sober you up!”
She calmed down a bit, and I could see as the events of yesterday's evening began assembling in her head into a coherent whole. The panic was gone, only for embarrassment to replace it. She turned her head away, shyly.
I gave her a little wink, still stirring the vegetables.
She walked up to me, fighting an invisible resistance. She gazed into my eyes.
“Nothing has changed,” I said. “This is one more door which you can take if you wish, but I will not hold it against you if you decide not to.”
And then, there was a poignant sadness in her eyes.
“I understand. Your country needs you. Your sister needs you. It's too late for me, Celestia. I already love you more than life itself, and I know it will break my heart, but I will live to the end of my days with the memories of the mare that made the world more bright. Besides, you're mortal here. I wouldn't wish that fate upon you. You must go. And whatever you choose, you'll ponder forever whether you choose right.”
I held her chin and kissed her gently between her nostrils. Then I gave her a weak smile. “Come on, let’s eat.”
* * *
We returned to our daily routine from the past few weeks. We both exercised after the breakfast, running to the crest of the hills, Celestia helping me up the hill, letting me hold her mane. Then I was just jogging to the top, her galloping around. Unlike the first night, when I couldn't catch my breath after walking up the hill, now I could jog to the top without stopping, and my BMI dropped from well into “Obese” to mid-way “Overweight”.
We ran back and entered the part of the stable partitioned as a “horse shower”. We both showered together, and I put some fresh clothes on, while Celestia went to roll in the fresh straw spread thickly in one of the open stalls.
I brushed her mane, then we entered the living room together, ready to face another day's challenges.
Celestia got to answering the overdue questions in the TorChat using the Kinect, and simultaneously working her stock market magic, while I put wellingtons on, picked up a shovel and went to clean up “her bathroom”.
As I finished, she was busy projecting a new mandala in InkScape. There was more to that than just drawing – she was making a lot of calculations on the side using that exotic script of hers. I brought her tea and cake, and she paused to savor it.
“What does it do?” I nodded towards the screen.
“Local beacon to help Twilight find this farm. It's not flashy.”
“Give me the composition, and I'll start preparing the powders.”
“No hurry. She is coming in eight days.” Celestia peered at the “marker tile” with the message from Equestria embossed in glowing letters in the middle. Then her eyes grew wide.
“Eight hours, not days! Why? I sent her the message that there's no hurry!”
She began writing the recipes for the powders for me, while I ran to the lab. Before I arrived, they were already on the screen of a wall-mounted tablet. I got to work, quickly but carefully. Grinding, measuring, mixing, filling the 3D printer cartridges. A new white PVC tile came from the box. I sprayed it with adhesive and latched it to the printer's worktable. By the time I was done, the new mandala project was on the printer control computer. I started the job.
Celestia arrived, still barely suppressing panic. I activated Dasher on the tablet and connected it up to her mouth-joystick.
“When did the message arrive?” she asked.
“Around ten, maybe a little later.”
“How long until the...” She broke off as a shimmering light flooded from the printer. It rarely needed more than two layers of the powder for the mandala to activate; it was very fast for our purposes.
I stopped the job and picked out the tile. I placed another, transparent tile on top of it, gently squeezing air from between them. The mandala between the two sheets of plastic shimmered and danced with lights cruising between its branches and twists.
“Four hours late.” Celestia peered at the clock in the corner of the screen. “I hope she didn't get in any trouble.”
* * *
Twenty-four hours, and not a trace of Twilight.
“I will not answer any more questions regarding the beam. Treat it as a puzzle to solve.”
I read Celestia's last answer to yet another question on the screen. She was busy arranging construction of a huge solar power plant in Egypt, along with a pumped-storage hydroelectric one, to be able to end power problems in Europe, Africa and the Middle East, at least the peaceful parts. I peered at the laptop, and there were her suggested fixes to the buckytube production issues, and talks with a “space elevator” company. There, coal miners wouldn't be left without work; the elevator beyond the geostationary orbit would require a lot of carbon, and the surplus energy produced by the power plant would create endless supply of oxygen and hydrogen from seawater for fuel for rockets that would build the elevator.
I got on my own laptop and looked through the news. I smirked at a huge demonstration in Korea - just Korea, no longer North or South. Banners with “Tia don't go!” on them.
I picked the local news. Planned investments, new parks in the city... The world's economic boom was sending ripples here too, even if corrupted elites would swallow a lion's share of the surplus. I flipped through the articles, then froze.
“Purple pony amazes children and scientists.”
I looked at the photo. Twilight Sparkle – I recognized her by the mane and face, despite her changed shape – Welsh Pony, I'd say - with a halter on her face, tied to a fence, scared and confused.
I read the beginning of article. Tresher was spewing bullshit about 'a custom breed commissioned from Japanese scientists'. Of course he promised the foals would be for sale.
“Celestia,” I called out, turning the screen to her.
She turned around, a bit irked that I had interrupted her, but as she saw the photo, I could sense her terror.
“We need to formulate a plan.”
“Can't you... I don't know... bankrupt him?”
“The moment he notices I am interested in Twilight, he will take her hostage. I would be at his mercy.”
“Raid him and steal her? We have more than enough men.”
“The police has more and he will take her back. Besides, Jan still isn't back. We'd need his expertise.”
“Unless you two escape before that.”
“And leave you alone to suffer the fallout of orchestrating the armed assault? No. Just no.”
My phone rang. The ringtone indicated it was the guard at the bridge. I picked it up.
“There is a car with four scientists. They want to talk with you.”
“Send them away. We have no time for that right now.”
Celestia was pacing around the couch, biting her lips.
I looked at the phone. I could still hear the guard arguing with someone.
“Celestia...”
She stopped and looked me in the eyes.
“I think it's time you reveal yourself.”
She closed her eyes for a few seconds, deep in thought, then she gave me a nod.
“Are you there still?” I said into the phone.
“Yes. They are insistent. They said they would wait until you find time.”
“Let them in.”
* * *
Three men in suits and a woman in pink shirt stood on the porch. Two of the men were white, one had a tan complexion and rounded cheeks, and the elder woman had Asian features. I invited them in.
The young tan man at the front stood in the room and met Celestia's gaze.
“Greetings, lady Tia,” he said, bowing to her.
She curtsied in reply.
“Her actual name is Celestia,” I said. “Princess Celestia, if you choose to use a title.”
The remaining three muttered awkward greetings, then they turned to me.
”Mazlan Othman, United Nations, Astrophysicist.” The woman bowed.
“Jordan Stevens, the SETI program, Xenologist.” The younger white one followed suit.
“Rashid Madhavi, Mathematician, CERN and Indian Space Agency.” The tan guy shook with me.
“Bogdan Walery, Polish Academy of Sciences, Ethnographer.” The last one, short and balding, introduced himself to me in Polish. I shook hands with him.
I brought two more chairs, and we sat by the low table, facing the screen. Celestia took her place next to us. The scientists talked quietly between themselves, noticing power plant plans, the laptop with buckytube research reports, the big screen with the chat window and a draft of power lines layout. The ethnographer observed the glowing mandala tile on the table with more than a little interest.
The four exchanged awkward glances, then the three men looked at the woman. She coughed and began.
“You are surely... uh, wondering why the visit, and how we found out about you.”
I pointed to the screen, where the letters dashed on the Dasher:
“Not really. I'm sure you want to conduct research and ask me many questions about my origins. As for finding out, half an hour of observing me and my friends working in our lab, with open doors, from the hill on the other side of the valley would remove any doubts. Unfortunately the questions must wait. I promise I will answer them in due time, in a scope I deem safe, but for now I must request your assistance.”
She turned her head to me, and I stood up to bring my laptop. I set it on the table, showing the picture of Twilight Sparkle.
“My dear friend and student, Twilight Sparkle, arrived for my aid, following my signal. As you can see, she was captured and is held captive by a man whose name spells trouble. We must find a way to set her free.”
The four exchanged glances and nods.
“We will help best to our ability,” said the Indian mathematician.
* * *
While we waited outside in the meadow for the horse truck to arrive, Celestia agreed to answer various questions in the meantime.
“Is this your real form, or is this an advanced environmental suit and you are inside or controlling it remotely?”
The xenologist was asking Celestia various questions, while the remaining three walked around with cellphones by their ears, talking with their respective scientific institutions. Rashid was furiously scribbling some formulas in his notebook as dictated by his colleagues. I was serving as the laptop stand, holding it up to her so that she could answer.
“Biological form I received upon entering this universe.”
“So your natural form is different?”
“A little. The general shape is similar. Equine in form.”
“Any particular differences?”
“I have wings on my sides and a horn on my head.”
“So... like a... winged unicorn?”
Celestia nodded in reply.
“Can you fly? Equine shape isn't very aerodynamic.”
“I can. Air is not the medium my wings press against.”
“What do they press against then?”
“Ambient magic.”
“Wait wait wait. Magic is really not... a scientific thing.”
“Call it what you will, an all-permeating form of existence different than matter and energy. The theory is comparable in difficulty to Electromagnetism, but human science has barely scratched the surface of only one of its many forms - the Information. You either don't have a clue about its other forms or you blunder blindly, like your medieval alchemists blundered in chemistry, not understanding what they saw. On the other hand, it's easy for me to say that. Our species have an inborn mastery over controlling it.”
“Wait,” the ethnographer butted in. “Species have? As in plural?”
“Earth ponies have the mastery of earth. They can influence plant growth, and they possess strength exceeding what their muscles would grant them. The pegasi possess magic of flight; their wings give them lift and mastery over air currents, and their hooves are capable of manipulating cloud moisture as if it were a malleable solid. The unicorns can shape magic directly through their horns, weaving it into spells of great versatility. We, the alicorns, through combining traits of the three species, can draw upon magic in amounts far exceeding capabilities of the remaining species, allowing us to cast spells of immense power. We also have immortality, which results in centuries of accumulated experience and knowledge.”
“You are pulling my leg. Unicorns and pegasi are Earth's legendary creatures, the stuff of fairy tales.”
“You would be surprised how often one universe's biology is another's legend. There are bridges across the multiverse connecting different universes, and sometimes beings from one enter another. Usually they don't travel far, so the universe isn't all that different. Finding such a natural bridge is difficult, as they are rare and short. But there are species who know how to find such bridges or how to build quite long ones, and they wander between distant worlds on purpose, for different reasons. In my land this knowledge is forbidden, as it is extremely dangerous, but there are still some remains of it scattered, left from times when it was actively developed, and by abuse of this knowledge I was forced into this world."
“Will you give us a hint as to how to access that 'magic' thing? Just to scratch the surface?” The astrophysicist was quite enthusiastic.
“No. In the early days of Equestria, when magic was young and uncontrolled, irresponsible use of it, unchecked experimentation and greed for more power, led to disasters and creations, consequences of which Equestria suffers to this day. I may not be able to prevent you from repeating these mistakes, but at least I can push that moment away in time until humanity is more mature and responsible.”
“Can you give an example of such problems that humanity wouldn't be able to overcome?”
“The power of the sun was drained dry, and the moon was destroyed. Artificial substitutes had to be created urgently, and they needed to be constantly controlled by my sister and myself. Currently, while I am missing, she is forced to take care of both.”
“Now that's a valid concern if I ever heard one! I’ll stop my pestering about magic.”
"May I?" Rashid tried to gain her attention. "I have noted several mathematical problems in the notebook. Would you mind picking one and giving a solution?"
Celestia was about to pick Inkscape, which she found as good as anything for freestyle-writing, but the mathematician interrupted, holding out a ballpoint pen to her. "Best if you do this on paper, and without the device on your halter. I still have colleagues convinced you are just a smokescreen, a common animal trained to follow the commands given to you through the device. I believe this would convince even the most skeptical minds."
She nodded to him and walked up to me. I closed the laptop lid and removed her halter. The mathematician set his notebook on the laptop lid, then he drew his phone and began recording as she flipped through the pages, examining expressions and their descriptions written on them. I recognized some of them - the greatest unsolved mathematical problems. P = NP was among them.
She skipped it though and stopped at "Twin Prime Conjecture", took the pen in her mouth, and began scratching rather squarish, though readable symbols. She didn't bother with a lengthy proof, either. She just wrote "w(i+1)=", a large brace and several equations for different cases of "w(i)". She returned the pen and nudged me to return her halter. I put it on her and opened the laptop.
"The last variant of the equation generates the lower of twin primes. Of course it doesn't find all of them, finding only chosen ones, known as ƕƾ numbers." (...where did she find these symbols?) "...but as you can see, the variants are chosen in a cyclic sequence, and the results are monotonically growing. I won't give you a trivial solution, have fun with it. The proof that the last variant generates primes is easy enough, but finding a proof that each of them has a larger twin will take some effort. Especially with the nasty surprise of w(63)."
The Indian guy looked at the equations with his mouth wide open. "A deterministic sequence where every n-th number is a prime?" He wiped sweat off his head. "And what's the surprise of w(63)?"
"No twin. But it's the only exception. All numbers above that have their twin primes." She smirked to the astrophysicist. "If you discover what's wrong with that element of the sequence, you'll catch the beach-head of magic. By the way, I'm not the author. If you want to credit the author of the equation, his name was Abstract Symbol, or ƕƾ."
I heard the truck as it turned into the side road and rode over the bridge. The guard waved it to keep going. The truck drove up to us, and turned around. The driver stepped out.
“What's so urgent?” he asked, while unlatching the ramp at the back and letting it drop with a thud. ”Your missus doesn't seem ill, so it's not an urgent vet visit.”
...yes. Excess of cake could give Celestia colic. The only vet ready to take care of her was unable to come, so we drove her to him. I paid him a good four thousand for sixty kilometers round trip, never mind two speeding tickets.
“Watch your language, young sir,” the ethnographer butted in. “You are talking about an interplanetary... no, interuniversal diplomat here. And a princess,” he added with a smirk.
“Huh,” the guy muttered.
“Tia,” the ethnographer said.
The driver took a second to process the meaning. He knew a few facts about me from the trip, and surely he puzzled over the lonely rich guy with a horse, ready to drown him in cash just to save that horse. And the horse running to the truck briskly despite heavy colic.
Suddenly all the puzzles in his head added up. He dropped to his knees before Celestia and bowed his head to the ground. “Please forgive me, your excellency!”
“...highness,” the ethnographer muttered.
She neighed quietly, and he raised his gaze.
“Stand up,” I said. “We have an urgent mission.”
“Expect the police escort to join us on the way,” the ethnographer added. "We were preparing for the eventuality Her Highness wanted to visit the capitol."
The driver stood up, then he bowed in a gesture of inviting Celestia inside, as if he was asking her to enter royal apartments. She snorted and trotted up the ramp inside. He proceeded to latch the ramp back in place, and we both headed to the truck.
We got in as the scientists proceeded to their car, busy sending away what they had recorded and learned. Four bodyguards from the house boarded a 4x4 with the Colt Security logo as well.
“Where to, boss?” he asked.
I gave him the address of the riding school. He started the engine and drove carefully towards the road.
“That shithole?” he asked. “I don't service them. Half the courses are to the butcher.”
“And Tia's close friend is being held there.”
“God have mercy upon Tresher. Last time Tia was pissed, she nearly collapsed the world economy.”
“I certainly hope her genius works this time.”
* * *
When the ethnographer had said “police escort,” I had expected one car. Not a column of twenty police vans prepared for a riot, and about as many patrol cars, all with their sirens switched on, and each crossing we passed blocked off from side traffic by police cars assuring we had a free passage. The cacophony of the sirens was grinding on my nerves, but at least we arrived at the destination in a good time. And there were even more police vans at the place, with the forces “securing the perimeter”. The 4x4 with the security got separated, remaining at the far end of the column.
We arrived at the gate, and the sirens died down. The driver went to open the back of the truck, and I walked into the main yard. From between the crowd of customers, policemen, employees, I could hear a mighty argument, a tirade of curses and complaints.
Celestia joined me, and the scientists followed close by. The sound of an argument guided me to Tresher, a tall, balding guy in a lilac shirt, shouting at some senior police bigwig. We stopped a few steps from him, and he paused his rant, turning to us.
“My horse!” he exclaimed, pointing at Celestia. “He stole my horse!” he pointed at me.
“That's not a horse!” The ethnographer stepped forward. “That is a being from another dimension!”
Tresher made a cuckoo sign with his finger. “And we've got a runaway from an asylum here, too! Why is he out of his straitjacket?”
“I'm a professor of the Polish Academy of Sciences!”
“And I'm the British Queen!”
Celestia gave a nicker and bolted towards one of the paddocks. I spotted the purple pony tied to a fence there.
The remaining three scientists stepped up, and Rashid started talking in English trying to talk reason into Tresher, but apparently the troglodyte didn't even know the language, ignoring the mathematician. He pulled out his phone and dialed some number.
“Robert, listen, what the fuck is your fucking army doing here? I've got the thief of my horse here, and he brought that horse, and there's some sandnigger droning over me and a fucking wacko who claims to be some professor... No, I don't give a fuck about your orders. Who are you working for?... Look, I'm calling in my favor now. Get the fuckers arrested, all five of them and the driver for a good measure, and get your fucking army off my property... What do you mean you can't? And does that matter shit? I've got a hundred better jobs for you if you do this.”
“Celestia!” I shouted out. She either didn't listen or didn't want to listen, nuzzling Twilight.
“You!” Tresher shouted to some stable hands. “Get that horse to the stable!” he pointed at Celestia, “and lock it with a padlock!”
“Celestia, run!” I shouted at top of my voice. She turned to me. “Run!” I repeated, and ran towards her.
Too late. A loop of rope landed on her neck, and even though she pulled, three stable hands opposed her while a fourth looped the rope around a post. She fought when they tried to attach a rope to her halter. I rushed between them, trying to push them away and detach the rope. Celestia was struggling, kicking. I got to her and began pulling the rope off her neck, resisting a hand grabbing me from behind.
Then another hand grabbed me with much more force and turned me around. I saw a riot gear uniform, then a fist flying into my jaw.
The pain wasn't even bad, but there was this ringing in my ears and a sudden feeling of weakness, my hands refusing to work and my legs buckling under me.
Through the daze, I heard the police officer that had been arguing with Tresher. “Arrest them, that's a big-profile sham, get them locked up!”
“I protest, I have a diplomatic immunity!” I heard the astrophysicist.
I felt myself being rolled onto my belly, handcuffs being put on my hands. I heard the crackling of an electric prod, a squeal from Celestia, and a desperate whinny from Twilight.
The world got distant, and the sounds blurred into a ringing.