//------------------------------// // 18. Protocols // Story: Final Mission // by Sharp Quill //------------------------------// “How did you reverse the Existential Separation spell?” That was the one question I dreaded the most. I had spent days pondering the answer to that inevitable question. An honest and complete answer may damn the cat realm more than it already was; any other risked the same to Equestria. Order patiently waited for my response. What had caused me more than one sleepless night was not knowing how much they already knew. Maybe they hadn’t known anything in advance, which I was inclined to believe based on what Discord had mentioned, but could I bet on them not figuring it out in hindsight? The lemur telegraphed nothing; she might as well had asked me what I wanted for lunch. Celestia could take lessons from her. Taking too long to answer was probably not good either. Push had come to shove; there really was only one choice: “I used a rune-inscribed crystal provided to me by King Apollo of the cat realm. It was activated when I zapped myself with a weapon we call a ‘time stunner.’ I no longer have the crystal; it was consumed in the performance of its task.” The crystal in question suddenly appeared on the table in front of me. “It was not consumed,” Order said, “though you could be forgiven for believing otherwise.” I stared at it. It sure looked like that crystal. Why hadn’t it been in my saddlebag, if it wasn’t consumed. How did they get it? “I-I don’t understand.” “When your realm had finished reintegrating your existence, the crystal remained behind in Nexus time. It became inaccessible to you.” “We immediately sensed something had happened, of course,” Discord continued, “and I was sent to investigate. I found the crystal and secured it.” It was becoming all too clear I had made the right choice. “You must’ve found me too, and yet you left me alone.” “Under my instructions,” Order said. My head was spinning by this point. “May I ask why?” “Not at this time.” I was getting rather tired of that response to my questions. “Did you know the cats had created that crystal?” “Not specifically.” “Try not at all,” Discord chortled. “Old catnip-breath pulled one over on us. And passing it on to this pony for use in a different realm?” He shifted his gaze to Order. “No one hypothesized that.” The lemur quietly sighed. “King Apollo has proven surprisingly effective at hiding his research. However, this outcome, startling as it may be, does not invalidate the protocols that are in place.” “Oh, just admit it: a little chaos can yield fascinating data.” Order gave him a smug look. “The protocols do specify the use of chaotic lifeforms.” “Only after fierce lobbying! Why, the poison joke alone—” “Ahem.” They both looked at me. As interesting as this battle between order and chaos might be, I doubted they were going to resolve it here and now. “Are you going to punish them—the cats, I mean?” “The protocols for the cat realm have not changed and shall not change due to this incident,” Order said serenely. “You need not burden yourself with that concern.” “You’re going to do nothing about it,” I flatly stated. “That is correct.” Was it really that surprising? They had done nothing to stop me from accessing and using those time stunners, and they had done nothing to stop Twilight from doing what she did nor whatever it was she was currently doing. The only issue, it seemed, was that they had been caught off guard, not that it had happened. “And what about the protocols for my realm?” “That is the point of this meeting, is it not?” Order clasped her hands together. “Recent events have provided sufficient rationale to reconsider the recent protocol changes. Your willingness to once more undergo existential separation both adds to that rationale and offers an efficient means to restore the original protocols. All that remains is to finalize the details.” “Details like what?” The road to Tartarus was paved with details. “You’ve expressed a desire for the vaults of forbidden knowledge and artifacts to be destroyed. That is an acceptable protocol modification; at this point, most of their value has been obtained.” That’s a promising start. “You’ve also expressed a desire to delay existential separation for as long as possible. No technical reason exists to deny that, nor does it violate protocols. A delay of up to five years is feasible.” Even better. “You may choose one.” Wait, what? “One?” “That is correct.” “Why only one?” “Why not only one?” There were many answers I could give. There was no point in offering any of them. The bottom line was: because they could. “Do I have to choose now?” “You have five days. You may contact Discord once you have decided.” The draconequus gave me a smile. “Would you like a coin to flip?” “Our first big vacation together,” I said. Lyra took the framed photo of us in Fillydelphia and put it into the now full box. The box closed under her magic. “Without you, Twilight won’t know about those vaults. You don’t have to sacrifice our remaining time together.” I started to fetch another box, then stopped; I just couldn’t do any more packing. “For how long?” I asked, shaking my head. “So long as they exist, the risk is there. Just because it might take decades, or even centuries, doesn’t make the outcome any better.” “Something else might happen that crosses the line, condemning us anyway,” Lyra argued. I gave her a stern look. “Which would be true regardless of whether those vaults are destroyed,” I pointed out. “Lowered risk is lowered risk.” “Yet you haven’t told Discord yet.” “I’m procrastinating,” I admitted, lowering my head. “So maybe I am hoping for a miracle.” My voice became a near whisper. “Doesn’t mean I expect one to happen.” The Gate opened in our living room. “The boxes are over there,” I told Beyond, pointing at them with a hoof. Lyra moved towards the open portal, eyes full of wonder. Beyond did not move aside. “You must not pass through,” the rabbit told her, whiskers twitching. “The resets to come would cause you great harm if you did.” The mint-green unicorn did not back off. “Lyra, don’t. She’s not just saying that. Even Discord is somewhat bothered by it.” “Okay, okay… I get the message,” she grumbled, stepping to the side. “Doesn’t mean I can’t look, right?” Beyond hopped through. “You may look all you want.” She spotted the boxes and began levitating the closest one. “You won’t remember after a reset undoes these events.” Which was why, when all was said and done, that I was allowed to have Lyra present. I didn’t want to have secrets between us for the few days I had left with her. “So why won’t you be harmed?” Lyra asked. “Are rabbits immune?” The first box passed through the Gate and onto the floor of the Gate room. “No mortal creature is immune,” she flatly said. “I simply won’t be here when the resets happen.” Or, to be more precise, she’d be on Nexus time, just like I would be during the resets. “Well… what if I weren’t here either?” Lyra proposed. “What if I was over there until the resets were all done?” The second box paused in mid-air as Beyond gave the unicorn her full attention. “My existence is not interwoven with this realm; yours is. Anything that prevents you from fully participating in these resets will cause you great harm.” I knew where Lyra was going next, and I wasn’t going to hear it. “Drop it, Lyra. You get to live your life, so live it.” I looked away. “It’ll be real easy, once you have never met me.” She stamped a hoof. “I don’t want to have never met you!” Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe I should have snuck away, sparing her this torment. “We can’t always have what we want.” The fifth day had arrived. We were all gathered in our living room, the final moments of my existence as I knew it coming to an end. Above me, on the ceiling, were the runes of what I now knew was the Existential Separation spell. No crystals this time; I had no intention of running away. Princess Celestia looked upon me with sad eyes. “I truly wish I could say that centuries from now, you’ll be remembered as a hero, mentioned in the same breath as Commander Hurricane.” Discord put a lion paw on the alicorn’s withers. “I shall remember, even if I must keep it to myself. And I shall see to it personally that the terms of the agreement are carried out.” “I’ll be happy enough if you can keep Lyra away from these runes,” I said, glaring at the unicorn in question. Lyra stuck her tongue out at me. Celestia chuckled. “I shall do my best.” I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Let’s get this over with,” I said loudly. The runes began to glow an unpleasant visceral violet. Beyond was powering the runes, just like the first time, from Nexus time. The runes grew steadily brighter and the room about me began to waver, like ripples across the fabric of reality. Celestia, Discord, and Lyra were motionless, time having ceased to flow for them. As before, everything around me was fading to gray, as color, brightness and darkness were washed away by swirling waves of unreality. It was a lot less scarier this second time around, now that I knew what to expect. Not being magically frozen in place helped too. The last thing I saw before passing out was a disembodied glowing horn sprouting a rabbit body. A hoof shook me awake. “What are you doing on the floor?” a familiar voice demanded. I scrambled to my hooves and hurriedly scanned my surroundings. An worried mint green unicorn looked at me. “L-Lyra?” “Where have you been for the past two days? You missed the deadline! Did you chi—uh, change your mind?” Nopony else was present. I glanced at the ceiling, and as expected there was nothing there. Here we go again. This time, however, I knew exactly what was going on—and so did Lyra, even if she didn’t know it yet. I calmly looked her in the eyes. “I didn’t miss the deadline.” “But it was yesterday and you’re still…” Comprehension dawned. “The first reset… it already happened.” “Bright and early yesterday morning,” I confirmed. “You were there, as were Discord and Princess Celestia.” “And… they don’t remember either?” I shook my head. “Wow.” Lyra began meandering about the living room as she waxed philosophical. “This is so weird, to know that something happened yet have a completely different set of memories. And it’ll happen again tonight! Whatever I do today, I’ll remember something completely different tomorrow.” She turned to me, excited. “We can do whatever we want, and it doesn’t matter!” I had to admit that kind of caught me off guard. Lyra was quite right, that it didn’t matter what we did. I never took advantage of that before, certainly not for fun, because I was utterly focused on reversing the spell and not a whole lot of time in which to do it. “So what did you have in mind?” A hoof shook me awake. “You could have told me if you changed your mind, instead of running off like that.” I opened my eyes to a somewhat annoyed Lyra. “I didn’t change my mind,” I retorted, slightly annoyed myself. Unfortunately, I was going to go through this every morning, at least until a reset reached beyond Cranky and Mathilda’s wedding. Then it would get worse. “Two resets have happened.” I hopped off the couch and on to the floor, then I removed my saddlebags and put them back on the couch. Lyra looked at me quizzically. “Aren’t all your possessions in the Nexus?” “Not the ones I acquired yesterday—my yesterday,” I singsonged, giving her a teasing smile. “Oh, now I’ve got to see this.” Her horn lit up, opening the saddlebag and pulling out a framed photograph. Her jaw nearly fell off once she got a look at it. “Yeah, that happened,” she read aloud. She inspected the words more closely. “I’m pretty sure that’s my horn writing.” “Oh, it is,” I said. The photo was of Lyra, grinning evilly at the camera, her mane and tail completely shaved. I was standing next to her, expressing my embarrassment with a hoof to my head. “You were being all philosophical about the resets,” I explained, “and decided to play a joke on the post-reset version of yourself.” She scrunched her muzzle. “Heh. Guess I should skip the philosophizing, then.” She put the photo back in the saddlebag. “I can’t keep that, I suppose.” “Not past tonight, anyway,” I said, shrugging. “Then nopony will have it.” “That kinda sucks… that and having hard proof this is actually happening.” “Philosophy skipping, remember?” “Oh, yeah…” She locked her gaze on me. “How come you weren’t shaved in that photograph?” “Because the resets don’t affect me. I’d still be shaved.” “Oh.” We spent most of the day sitting on our favorite park benches. Lyra had blown off a music class she taught; it’d upset quite a few ponies, but what difference did that make? Nor did I bother to open my store; I doubted anypony got upset over that. My store wasn’t what it used to be, anyway. After the sun had set, I went, alone, to my confectionary kitchen. Most of the equipment was gone, having been stored somewhere in the Nexus. Never again would I make candy in this realm. I stomped three times, the standard signal to open the portal; nothing could be heard while it was in view mode. The Gate promptly opened. I got out the photo of Lyra and presented it to Beyond. “Add this to my belongings, please.” The rabbit smiled at me. “No problem.” The photo floated across the threshold into the Gate room. “Same time tomorrow?” “I guess,” I said noncommittally. I didn’t have to touch bases with them; it simply beat carrying all my worldly possessions in my saddlebags across all the resets. Beyond’s horn glowed, and the Gate closed. A hoof shook me awake. “Where have you been! And what happened to your kitchen downstairs!!” I gave her a warm smile, which only confused her even more. I had another day with Lyra to look forward to.