//------------------------------// // Sunshine Recorder (II) // Story: Synthetic Bottled Sunlight // by NorrisThePony //------------------------------// i                                     Celestia landed. She blinked rapidly to clear her watering eye, the last traces of pain still lingering on her shaking wings and legs. She felt like she was close to fainting, and she found it was hard to breathe not only because of her beating sides, but also from the very air itself. Even so far from the stacks, it seemed to have an odd taste to it. Not everypony had been living the last ten years with the luxury of filtered breathing air, after all. She ended up keeping the sun in the sky after all, but with the pollution in the air Celestia was unsure most ponies in central Equestria would notice. But when she looked up at the skies, she could still see blue, and the rays of her sun burning brightly. She had flown for hours to receive such a luxury, but it was most certainly worth it. For the first time in eleven years, Celestia didn't feel like her life was about to end. That, at least, was nice. As she stood on shaking hooves, Celestia decided she was accomplishing nothing by standing there and she instead sat down on the soft grass. She had seen the forest from the air, and instantly it had offered what she had dearly wanted: refuge from the assault of industry. It was an isolated haven of life not yet razed for other purposes. It would be a good place to rest, and consider the uncertain future ahead of her. Would Flim and Flam’s petty corporation be honest? Would they admit their lies about her, and confess that she had escaped? To do so would be to admit that they had imprisoned her in the first place. If she remembered correctly, Equestria had been told that she had killed herself in a fit of sorrow and regret. Whatever they chose to do, Equestria would find out soon, although Celestia herself was less than ecstatic to introduce herself as a catalyst of change for a world they were content with. They had played right into their own dystopian sentence, and they were enjoying every moment of its benefits. What could Celestia possibly say to change their minds? Had she any right to do so anyways? Part of her had wished she had just created the damn sunrise scroll and faced her own death as anything but the coward she had been. Fortunately, a larger part knew that dooming Equestria to a slow death was hardly the fate she wanted to leave it in. She had invested too much pain and effort and love into these ponies to give up to two arrogant business-ponies. Discord, Tirek, Sombra… they had all been easy. Monsters bent on conquest or destruction. Obvious evil doing obviously evil things to her subjects. Stopping them had been simple. Conceptually so, at least. But Flim and Flam? How could she overthrow two ponies that Equestria loved, without looking like a monster herself? Equestria was dying. It was clear in the skies and in the desolate earth. Perhaps with more time and care, Equestria could have adapted to Flim and Flam’s industrial revolution, but such things were luxuries that impatient ponies had no mood to wait for. Progress, progress, progress! She shook her wings gingerly. Already, they felt better, if only marginally so. Painful, instead of excruciatingly unbearable. It was hardly a leap forwards, but Celestia wasn’t hypocritical enough to start chanting for swifter progress herself Instead, she would wait. Allow herself to heal, allow her power to return. She would find somewhere quiet to do so… The Everfree had been considered, but she had quickly learned that it was as desolate as the friendly forests around Ponyville. Except her old castle. It had been turned into a tourist exhibit. Celestia imagined ponies being led by some boisterous curator down the halls she had refused to touch in order to respect Luna’s memory. “If you look to your left, young fillies and gentlecolts, you’ll see the spot where Nightmare Moon used a rusty bit of rebar to gouge out her sister’s eye! Isn’t it simply fascinating?”   She sighed and stood back onto her hooves again. As much as the grass was comfortable and she felt quite like resting her head on it and falling into slumber, she knew that every moment she spent in the open was hardly a safe one. She could rest later. With another bristle of her aching wings, Celestia left the grassy clearing behind and once more took to the midday skies. ii Old Canterlot, it was called. Hardly a fitting name, Celestia thought, considering it had been the nation’s capital only twelve years prior, but then again the city was quite old indeed. Centuries old. It had aged greatly in the decade she had been away. Many of the spires of her old castle had been torn down, smokestacks erected in their place, their filth billowing over the snow and ice of Canterlot Mountain and continuing its conquest above the rest of the sullen earth. The streets  of Old Canterlot were grimy and unpleasant, the shops and cafes that had lined them were largely gone. Or, rather, they were not gone, but instead they had moved away from the rapidly decomposing city, like rats fleeing a sinking ship. The former city on the mountain overlooked the greater lights of the newer city below, built around and sometimes above the largely drained Canterlot Lake. Celestia could see boardwalks and neon lights even from her vantage point far above. Needing a proper cloak of darkness to travel by, she had dropped the sun again, finally putting an end to the thirty-six hour day she had brought about. Celestia turned away from the depressing streets of Old Canterlot, and instead began making her way to the double door on the other side of the balcony she was standing upon. With a deep breath, she brought a reluctant hoof to the door and knocked firmly. Her heart was already beating rapidly. Was this even the place she was looking for? It seemed a little strange that after eleven years it would have remained unchanged, especially considering how much had transpired. If it wasn’t the place she was looking for… She was in no mood to flee rapidly on her aching wings, but she felt she could if she truly had to. There came a shuffling from within, but when the door was opened it was clear that the stallion on the other side had been expecting her. She let her held breath out in a sigh of relief. “Hello, Shining Armor,” she greeted, grinning sheepishly. “May I come in?” “I knew it,” he breathed, as if out of exhaustion. “You’re unbelievable. I knew the second I heard about your ‘sunset scroll’ that you were playing us all for fools.” “Sunrise scroll,” she casually corrected, although it hardly mattered, all things considered. “I admit I was fearful you would say something to give me away.” “What exactly are you hoping to accomplish now?” “I aim to retake Equestria, ultimately,” Celestia replied, hardly aware of how harsh it sounded. “Amazing how it only took you mortals eleven years to destroy a society that I’ve worked a thousand to keep safe and just.” Shining Armor was silent. Celestia stopped speaking, too, for she had only just then understood what she had said. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I wasn’t thinking.” A gust of cold wind blew from the mountain, sending a shiver through her exhausted limbs. It was a harsh reminder towards how vulnerable she was. She still did not have any idea what Equestria knew about her escape, but being spotted was hardly her preferred way of finding out. “May I please come in?” she asked again. In response, Shining pushed the double doors open further and wordlessly led the way into his home. Celestia gratefully followed him inside. She was surprised by how… humble his home was; it was a four-room apartment in a largely derelict building, decorated sparsely with photos of his family, his Royal Guard comrades, or an array of encased weaponry that had not seen use in several years. Celestia saw no traces of Cadance anywhere. Shining Armor had continued on into another room that she assumed was a kitchen, for she could hear a whistling kettle promptly silence as he entered. Instead of following him, she stood in the main living area, analyzing a newspaper she found on a coffee table. Anything beyond the headlines were illegibly blurred, and she had left her glasses behind when she had left her underground home. Still, she took a moment to look at the headlines and pictures, all about ponies she did not know or devices whose purposes escaped her. At most, it was a conventional newspaper, and she found herself more interested in the colourful, glossy little paper documents that fell out when she opened it. Shining Armor returned, floating with him a pot of steaming coffee and two mugs. Celestia gratefully took one and muttered her thanks. “Does Equestria know about my… ah… escape?” she asked after Shining Armor had sat down before her and poured his own coffee. “No. I imagine they’re going to try and find you silently while they still can.” “Can I count on you not to tell them?” Shining Armor laughed mirthlessly. “I’m not going to go blabbing, if that’s what you’re asking.” It hadn’t been, but regardless she smiled and thanked him. He offered no vocal reply. Celestia took another sip of her coffee, listening to the sound of some clock in the kitchen calling out the midnight hour with a chorus of lively chimes. “So, ‘reclaiming Equestria,’” Shining drawled when the chipper tune ended. “How exactly are you going to do that?” “I earnestly do not know. I am not expecting ponies to leap before me to support my cause.” “No,” Shining agreed. “To them, you’re an archaic, backwards-thinking relic.” “That… isn’t what I am?” she replied, raising an eyebrow in an attempt at humour, although she did not feel very flattered when Shining Armor laughed in response. “No, I do have a better plan than that.” “And it requires me?” “Not exactly. I’m here for one simple reason, actually. You really shouldn’t have put on coffee for me.” Shining Armor cracked a small grin and waved a hoof for her to elaborate. “Alright then, Lady Liberty. Now I’m curious.”   “I need to know where I can find your sister, Shining Armor.” Not since she had proposed her sunrise scroll did Celestia see the tone of a conversation so quickly shift. “I… I don’t know,” Shining Armor managed, his gaze falling. “Somewhere in Canterlot… but I don’t know where.” He did not have to explain, and Celestia did not have to dig into his expression to uncover the truth lurking beneath. She knew it as much as she knew the moon followed the sun. Troubled siblings, during troubled times, must confront the terrible truth that their own relationships are not as rigid and unbreakable as they would seem. And when siblings did fight… Celestia had yet to see anything quite so painful. “I’m sorry, Shining Armor,” Celestia cooed softly. She did not expect her consolation to matter to a stallion who had very little regard for her, and so it was with great surprise to her when Shining Armor looked back up at her and smiled. “Thank you, Celestia. I think she would like to speak with you. Although I’m sort of confused why you wish to speak to her.” “Call it a hunch,” Celestia shrugged. “Or the intuition of a foolish old mare who knows potential when she sees it. Even if that potential has been lying in wait for twenty five years.” Shining Armor nodded. His gaze was distant, and he turned to look to some point Celestia could never see, evidently deep in introspective thought. “Did you see it in… in her?” “Your wife?” Celestia caught herself before she said her niece's name. “It’s… it’s Cadance to you, too,” Shining Armor sighed. “I’m sorry about what I said to you, Celestia. I imagine you were hurting enough, without me.” “You had every right to feel what you did. I never thought any differently of you because of it,” Celestia’s voice had grown softer than the ticking clock in the far-off kitchen. “And to answer your question, yes, I did see it. It was a blessing to be able to teach her.” Finishing her coffee, Celestia wordlessly rose to her hooves. She started back towards the double doors she had come from, but as she had been expecting, Shining Armor’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Please, Celestia…” Celestia heard him rise to his feet, but she did not turn. “Be… be careful. I don’t want to lose her like I lost Cadance.” “I know,” Celestia said. “Thank you, Shining Armor.” “Good luck, Princess Celestia. It’s good to see you back home.” iii Through a shattered skylight, Celestia entered the derelict ruins of the Canterlot Public Archives, descending in a spiral towards the sea of black bookshelves beneath her. What had happened to the library was a mystery to Celestia. The dust of several year's of neglect had gathered on the faces of discarded books, but the building had been abandoned with its dignity largely intact. Celestia touched down gently, taking care not to make too loud a noise out of fear of alerting some vagrant that had made the abandoned library their home. She crept forwards, her ears perched to catch even the faintest of sounds. Her attentiveness rewarded her with the sound of a crackling fire some ways away. Her horn had been glowing warmly, but she extinguished its light and proceeded blindly down the lonely aisles of books coated with frost and dust. Eventually Celestia reached the end of the aisle, arriving at a raised point which overlooked a large area of tables that served as the entrance and reading area of the library. She looked down at this point from the other side of a banister on the topmost floor of the three-storey library, scanning for any signs of life of whatever creature had created the fire she saw crackling in a barrel in the middle of the reading area.   “What do you want?” a feminine voice called from directly behind Celestia, who nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise. She whipped around, but whoever had spoken could not be seen through the unbroken darkness. Thankfully, it meant that she herself had not been seen either, but instead heard, although she had been careful not to make a sound. “You’re from the company?” the mare questioned, her voice ringing out from the darkness she was lurking within. In the shadows, Celestia could see her movement, but hardly a trace of her form. “Well, tell them I’m not leaving! They can demolish any castle they like, but I won’t let them touch this place!” Celestia lit her horn at the same time as the mare, so that her yellow glow lit part of the distance down the corridor of bookshelves, and the mare’s purple magic lit the rest. Celestia saw the mare’s bloodshot eyes widen in shock at the sight of Equestria’s lost princess. She took a step forwards. The mare stepped back in response. Her lavender coat was stained and charred, and her mane was largely unkempt. Celestia had only seen this mare once in her life, when she had been a little filly cowering behind her older brother, but she recognized her all the same. “Hello, Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia said, and without thinking she gave the mare in front of her a polite bow. She received no reply. Looking up, Celestia saw that Twilight’s stunned expression was largely unchanged. Eventually, Twilight composed herself enough to pose a whispered question. “Princess Celestia?” The answer Celestia gave was equally as brief. “Yes.” As if her confirmation of the obvious was an unveiling of some unspoken fact, Twilight slunk back into her shocked reverie. Celestia chuckled and took another step forwards, but Twilight instinctively took another step back. “You’re dead,” Twilight muttered. Celestia saw defensive magic spring into her aura, and the tint of her light changed slightly. “I assure you I only look it,” Celestia replied with an air of humour and a shiver from the cold. “Perhaps we should go down to the warmth of your fire, Twilight Sparkle. We have a lot to talk about.” When the two had reached Twilight’s makeshift barrel fire, the unicorn refused to sit down as Celestia did, instead still standing attentive with her magic at the ready. Celestia was merely thankful for the heat; it felt marvelous against her feathers. Noticing Twilight’s rigid stature and attentive gaze, Celestia gave her a kind smile. Then, unprompted, she explained everything. She told Twilight about Flim and Flam, and about her life underground, about the SunTrotter 2000 and Raven and her sunrise scroll. Twilight had remained deathly quiet—aside from one quiet interruption where she breathed some awestruck exclamation and dug out a notepad and pen amongst her affairs, beginning to transcribe rapidly—right until the moment Celestia mentioned Shining Armor’s visit during Hearth’s Warming Eve. Then, she interjected with a low growl and pounded a hoof against the library floor. Her frantic writing grew furious, so that the scratching of her pen was loud enough to silence Celestia completely. “That’s my brother, alright,” Twilight sighed, her head descending sheepishly as she composed herself from her outburst. “Forgive me if I’m intruding on some personal matter… but what happened between the two of you?” “It’s complicated,” Twilight sighed. “The short answer is, he doesn’t exactly approve of…” Twilight trailed off, undoubtedly wondering how best she could explain. Suddenly, she perked up, rising abruptly, diving into a pile of newspapers that she had been feeding into the fire, and rifling through them for some time. Eventually, she found the one she was searching for, and thrust it towards Celestia. Once more, it was merely blurred lines to Celestia at first, but the more she squinted and focused the more she could make out some of the larger words. It was a Letters to the Editor section of the paper, mostly uninteresting, with the exception of one that actually began with a title, much like how a typical news article would begin. “Armageddon Complacency,” Celestia read aloud. “By Twilight Sparkle.” “It was my first letter,” she nodded. “Definitely not my last.” Celestia rose an eyebrow, looked back to the paper, squinting in a pathetic attempt to read what Twilight had written. Seeing the princess struggle, Twilight elaborated further. “It’s a propaganda paper. The most bias, pro-Flim-Flam thing I’ve ever seen. I called them out on it, and to my surprise they actually published my letter.” Nodding, Celestia cast a careful glance over the paper in the direction of Twilight, who was staring absently at the crackling flame. “News bias will always exist, my dear,” Celestia said, levitating the paper back towards Twilight with her magic. “Yeah, but not like this,” Twilight shook her head, tossing the paper back to the pile. “They blatantly lied, and every Equestrian was just sitting there eating it up. Somepony had to tell the truth. I’m just surprised they published me at all.” “Well, I suppose they did not want to look as though they were censoring the truth by silencing opposition. By giving their opposition a voice, they can thusly refute said opposition." “Huh. Never thought of that,” Twilight said introspectively, leaning forwards. “Still, it backfired on them, cause ponies wanted to keep hearing about what I had to say. My opinions were profitable. Course, the majority of Equestria thinks I’m a joke. Some batty Arcane Traditionalist.” Celestia rose an eyebrow at the unfamiliar phrase. From Twilight's tone, it seemed as though it was an insult. “Unicorns who forcibly disregard anything that isn’t arcane,” Twilight elaborated, seeing the princess’s confusion. “They insist that anything that isn’t traditional magic is a sin, and we should go back to the way things were. Unprogressive relics of a dead era, basically.” “Huh,” Celestia rose a hoof to her lip curiously. “I suppose that makes me some holy queen amongst them.” Twilight was silent, awkwardly avoiding Celestia’s gaze. Apparently not. “And I suppose your brother didn’t quite like the less-than-warm reception Equestria was giving your ideals?” Celestia guessed. She remembered what he had said to her back at his apartment, about not wanting to lose Twilight in addition to Cadance. “Yeah. I always saw him as paranoid, myself. If anything, he was the Arcane Traditionalist, with his wild claims of dangerous conspiracy—” Twilight stopped suddenly, looking up at Celestia as if just now realizing she was present. “He was right though,” she said, her eyes growing wide. “You’re alive. That proves that he was right. Does that make you some sort of fugitive?” "I do not know," Celestia admitted. "I'm hardly in any state to defend myself if I'm discovered. That is why I have not made news of my return more vocal." "Well, still. According to Flim-Flam Industry, you're dead, yet here you are as living proof that they're liars. They can hardly do anything to you now." "You would be surprised," Celestia sighed, doing her best to dodge around admitting the obvious truth, that she was afraid of how Equestria would receive her now that she had been gone for eleven years and they seemed content with the world they'd been given during her absence. "This is amazing," Twilight breathed, the sound of her scratching pen soon bleeding into awkward wordless silence. Eventually her frantic writing slowed and ceased. It seemed to Celestia as though she had successfully driven the conversation into a dead end. But there was still a great deal she needed to know from Twilight Sparkle, starting from when exactly Celestia had gone wrong in ignoring the young mare. “Forgive me, Twilight, but can we move back a ways? What became of your magic training?” “Magic training?” Twilight said, laughing rudely. “I ditched that after I failed my entrance exam.” “You shouldn’t have,” Celestia replied. “You’re a gifted unicorn, Twilight Sparkle.” “You’ve known me for five minutes.” “And in those five minutes, you managed to sneak up on me… I presume with a silent teleportation spell?” Twilight grumbled something unintelligible, but nodded. “And you knew I was present without having to see or hear me… perhaps by warding the library’s entrances with a magic spell?” Twilight nodded again. “Both spells beyond the skills of an average unicorn,” Celestia said. Twilight looked away sheepishly from the princess’s praise. “And magic you’ve taught yourself, without any assistance, in a world that condemns such practices.” “Well, whatever,” Twilight sighed. “Point is, to Equestria, I’m some nutcase conspiracy journalist living in a library. Looking at books about the Tree of Harmony and whispering about how much ‘I want to believe.’” Celestia grinned and nodded. She shared a great number of characteristics with this unicorn. She was a forgotten relic, and Twilight Sparkle was a soapbox preacher screaming to strangers about forgotten relics. Hardly the ideal heroes for Equestria. Still, Twilight had what Celestia needed ever so dearly. A voice that Equestria would listen to, even if it was only to laugh scornfully at. Against her common sense, Celestia repeated the thought out loud. Thankfully, Twilight was hardly offended by the “soapbox preacher” remark. Indeed, she found it quite hysterical. “Right, that’s us,” she said, chuckling. “So, what’s your plan, Princess Celestia?” “I would think that a public statement would be a good place to start,” Celestia replied. “You would be able to publish such a thing?” “Oh, I would make a killing off of it. ‘Interview with a Princess’, I could call it.” “Good. It will feel nice to finally address the princes of Equestria directly.” Celestia had expected another agreeing chuckle or murmur from Twilight, but when she looked to the unicorn she instead saw a glance that bordered on horrified bewilderment, as though Celestia had just said something so abstractly stupid that it was almost unbelievable. “What?” Celestia eventually said. “Princes?” Twilight Sparkle rose an eyebrow. “Flim and Flam?” “Yeah, I know,” Twilight nodded. “But we don’t call them princes.” “Do they not rule over Equestria?” “Kind of. It’s a democracy.” Celestia blinked. “It means that the subjects vote on who rules." “But…” Celestia was dumbfounded. “Why would the least qualified ponies decide who rules?” Twilight shrugged. “I dunno. If it’s any consolation, I wrote Chancellor Puddinghead on the ballot paper.” “I see that a great deal has changed during my absence,” Celestia said, positioning herself from a sitting position so that she was instead lying on her back, as if to sleep. “I’d be quite happy to start teaching you magic, Twilight Sparkle, but I fear it will be necessary for you to teach me about what other insanity has become the norm.” Twilight nodded, but Celestia had already closed her good eye to sleep. It had been a long number of restless days, and Celestia was tired. A new day would come again, and thankfully it was not a day Celestia would have to face hopelessly alone. She enjoyed Twilight Sparkle’s company… part of her felt as though they had a connection that, if fate would have dictated differently, could have led them both on a very different and much better path. It was no matter, for that path had not yet vanished. They had simply lost sight of it in the billowing smog. “Wake me up for the sunrise, please,”  Celestia requested, then she let her mind calm and carry her across the lonely gap of dreams towards a new day for Equestria.