Conversation Twenty-Six, with Interview
Privately, Mag considered herself a bigot.
She’d fought it for the last decade. She took a battery of sociology classes at the most infamously liberal college she could find, and spent days humiliating herself in those classes working through her remaining doubts. “How are we supposed to feel about white extinction?” she’d ask a professor. And the next week, “What is the gay agenda, anyway, and are heterosexuals allowed to help?”
Professors would laugh, then realize she was serious. Mag would play devil’s advocate until she ran out of counterarguments or until the professor lost all patience, whichever came first.
But the intellectual approach only took her so far, and dropping out didn’t help. Mostly what Mag took away from her college experience was a clearer view of who she wished she could be. She now understood that she shouldn’t clutch her purse and walk faster when passing a group of black men in the street, and so she didn’t. She knew to show no discomfort or disgust that her grocer was gay, because that would be cruel. She knew a number of synonyms for men in turbans, and she used none of them to describe her boss, because there was nothing wrong with wearing a turban.
And so she survived by never allowing instinct to guide her in social situations. It worked, so far as she could tell. Years of working registers also taught her that what she really didn’t like was customers. She also learned to dislike all college students, her neighbors, married people, pet owners, children, excessive talkers, people with careers, people with hobbies, attractive men, women wearing Tweety-Bird t-shirts, herself, her coworkers, and the management. One could argue this wasn’t any better, idiotic “I hate everyone equally” bumper stickers aside. But she’d changed herself into, if not a better person, at least a different one.
Mag and Bittermann—Theresa—stared at each other.
“Huh,” said Mag. “So… hm.” She noticed Celestia had wandered away at some point.
“Fetch me later,” Luna whispered in Mag’s head.
Bittermann cringed. “Oh, god. Not right now, okay? We’re on a mission.”
Mag scratched her cheek and avoided Bittermann’s eyes. “No? Not feeling sentimental right now?”
“No,” said Bittermann.
“You never said you were gay.”
“I’m not.”
Mag toed the paper at her feet. It crinkled. “I’m Californian, you know,” she half-lied. “We’re open-minded. Let’s talk about that.”
Bittermann just stood there, staring down at Mag, who couldn’t see her eyes in the dark. “This isn’t your problem.”
Mag found herself in an emotional gridlock. She’d made a friend. She’d made friends with a lesbian. Her new friend was attracted to her and wouldn’t talk about it. Mag was straight, but she got the feeling she’d fucked more women than Bittermann had, and she hadn’t gotten laid since college. She very much wanted to shave her legs.
Mag studied Bittermann’s hands, bluish white in the dark, long and slim, leading to angular limbs and square shoulders. She imagined holding that hand but didn’t reach out for it.
“So either I didn’t read things right, or you’re in the closet. Is it because you’re in the military?”
Bittermann walked away. “You didn’t read me right.”
“Fine,” Mag said to Bittermann’s back. She hoped that was the end of it. She hoped it wasn’t.
***
Mag lay in the dark of Celestia’s new room, on a low cot she’d set up in front of the dresser. She listened to Celestia’s even breathing but couldn’t make herself sleep.
She would have preferred a friend to a girlfriend. For that matter, she would have preferred a boyfriend to a girlfriend. She’d given girls a shot back in college and found the experience interesting in its own way, but not worth going out of her way for.
What was it like, to be with someone you didn’t hate? She’d never tried it. People Mag liked were too rare and precious to risk on a relationship. Better to screw people she disliked, didn’t trust, wouldn’t miss if they left. And that had been her attitude before she’d given up entirely on sex.
What would it be like? It might be like her very first time in the back of the family car, which she’d stolen that evening. They’d had to guide each other’s hands. They’d spoken in whispers even though there was no one around for miles. Mag had actually kissed his cheek.
Would it be like starting all over again? Now, here in the dark, that worried her more than anything else. She’d open herself up to making all the same mistakes she had in the past, but this time, it mattered.
She couldn’t talk to Celestia about it. Celestia had better things to worry about, and anyway, she’d be painfully upbeat and supportive, immediately absolve Mag of any past failures, tell her when to apologize and when to stay and when to leave.
And what would Mag do about Luna? How could one have a relaxed and spontaneous relationship with another friend looking out from behind your eyes? Luna wouldn’t always be able to leave, or even necessarily know when to leave, and Mag had no interest in a poly relationship that included Luna. And how did Bittermann feel about all this? Was that why she hadn’t said anything?
Mag bit her lip.
***
They sat together, watching Luna’s pale bonfire in her marble temple under the stars. Neither had anything to say. In the absence of conversation, Mag realized she could hear dripping water somewhere in the dark. She chose not to go out and look for it. Tonight, she didn’t want to leave the fire.
Luna closed her eyes and lowered herself to lie on the warm, striated marble floor. Mag lay back as well and let the fire warm the soles of her bare feet.
Mag tried to let her mind rest. She didn’t want to ruminate anymore. She was so tired of thinking and feeling. She felt as if her brain had been replaced with broken glass. Any thought that crossed her mind, any object or trinket that asked for her attention, jostled the shards painfully against the back of her eyes and the inner bones of her skull.
Celestia had given up. With Luna glaring into Celestia’s eyes, Mag had watched a light go out in them. Luna could be in more than one place at once in her dreams; was she with Celestia now? Were they sitting together in front of a similar fire? Did Celestia have a bonfire of her own, or did they share it? If Mag stepped through the bonfire in front of her, would she come out the other side under a different sky and find Luna and Celestia huddled together?
The broken glass shifted. Mag twitched away from the thought.
“You are having a bad dream,” said Luna.
Mag laced her fingers under her head. “At least it’s a quiet one.”
“No, elsewhere. This is my dream. Your own dreams carry on without you, like a hurricane that has lost its eye.”
Mag rolled to face the fire and rested her cheek on the tile. “I don’t need to know the details, right?”
“Mm. No.”
The bonfire was the same color as the stars.
“I want to go home,” said Luna.
***
Bittermann didn’t show up the next morning. Someone else had taken her shift, a stiff black woman in her 30’s who saluted to Celestia when she introduced herself, and now hadn’t put her hand down in hours. Luna quietly asked Mag whether it would be rude to ask the woman whether it felt any different to be black; Mag shook her head quickly and made sure her mouth was full whenever possible, just in case Luna hadn’t understood.
Celestia sat back from her half-empty bowl of Cheerios, tapped her spoon against the rim of the bowl to shake off a drop of milk, and set it on her folded paper napkin. She met Jeff’s eyes. “An interview,” she said. “And to your organization that’s the same as a preliminary press conference?”
Jeff held a hand up in apology. “I know, I know. Your majesty, I think we’ve accidentally given you the wrong impression about our resources.”
Celestia folded her hooves on the table in front of her. “Oh?”
“Yes, we have money, and, shall we say, a certain amount of foresight.”
Mag brushed toast crumbs from her hands and wished she had a plausible reason to ask about Bittermann. Instead she said, “Foresight as in… getting your orders from that magic cult thing, with their prophecies and junk?”
Jeff smiled. “As I said. But what we don’t have is political capital or non-clandestine relationships with any significant public force. Your majesties, I have the US president’s personal cellphone number in my pocket, but that’s not the same thing as being the president. I can’t call him whenever I like and I can’t count on him to have my back.”
Celestia’s eyebrows furrowed. “So rent an amphitheater in the nearest town and inform the local newspaper that I’ll be there tonight.”
“We also don’t move as quickly as we like to pretend. I’ll be honest—you scare the daylights out of a whole lot of important decision-makers out there. That means government oversight, and by multiple governments. We’re talking bureaucracy, phone-tag between nations, mountains of triplicate paperwork. I’d say every two minutes we talk generates another hour’s worth of forms I have to fill out.”
“And yet,” said Luna, “you don’t wish us to take matters in hand ourselves. You understand, do you not, that we can simply fly to any inhabited location on Earth, speak with anyone who happens by, and expect to see journalists of some kind within the hour? In fact, sister, why did we not do this in the first place? I’ve forgotten your reasoning.”
“A demonstration of good faith,” said Celestia. She picked up her spoon with her hoof and stirred her cereal. “I wanted them to see us working with humans and making friends. And…” Celestia stopped stirring. “I was, well, hoping their scientists or their machines could… could help us.”
“And this human organization might be the key, is your thinking. Or might it not. There are billions of humans. The answer could be to make inroads with their governments, but it might instead be to speak to as many as possible through as many channels as we can reach.”
“Hence the press conference, which would be the best of both worlds,” said Celestia. “Or, I suppose, this interview.”
“And,” said Jeff. “And this interview. Not or. We will give you the media event as soon as we can make it happen, but since the process gets more complicated the more we pursue this, I’m hoping you’ll accept an interview until we get this sorted out.”
“And apparently neither of us has any impact on Ms. Castan’s fate,” said Celestia. “Another little problem I could solve in a heartbeat if I took things into my own hooves. Jeff, here’s the problem. I’m no longer trying to save Equestria.”
“I still am,” Luna growled.
“She still is,” admitted Celestia. “But her approach to this kind of thing tends to be more straightforward.”
Luna smiled with Mag’s face. “I don’t dislike you or your masters, but I’ve no investment in your goodwill. If I wanted a press conference, I would have arranged it myself without asking your permission. If I wanted the Castan girl to stay out of prison, I wouldn’t have given her to you to begin with. I am predictable; you may always expect me to choose self-reliance over diplomacy.”
Celestia held up a hoof. “Well, let’s not forget that they’ve been housing and feeding us. And trusting us, too, which they don’t have to do.”
“Hmph. They trust us even less than I trust them, but I take your point.”
“Would you trust us?” Celestia drank her tea.
“No, but you would.”
“Vagabond gods were the responsibility of the night court, Luna.”
“And I had soup and soda crackers for all of them. But if they desired a press conference and mercy for one of our felons, I would have sent them to you.”
“And I’d have sent them back.”
Mag felt her eyebrows twitch with Luna’s irritation. “Fine, then. You wish to leave this to me? Then I say wait for the press conference, accept the interview offer for the sake of simplicity, arrange your own extradition treaty with America, and tell the president that kidnapping a princess and an Equestrian citizen far outweighs any crimes this girl committed against these other nations. Take her into your own custody and then leave her somewhere she might learn humility.”
Celestia considered her bowl of Cheerios. She lifted it with magic and drank the rest, both milk and soggy cereal, and set the bowl aside. “And the Nightmare?”
“We hunt it down.”
Celestia poured herself another cup of tea. “We do have an unexpected advantage there, don’t we? Mag has an artifact of Pasithee. Maybe the ideal one. How is her training going?”
Jeff, thoughtful with hands clasped in front of him, rippled a set of fingers against the back of his other hand. He made eye contact with Mag and she realized he wasn’t looking at Luna.
“Her training?” said Luna. “She is not conscious of most of it, still, and she certainly won’t be using the book to singlehoofedly slay a sentient concept. But give her long enough and she will become a weighty asset, though never a warrior, I think.”
Celestia sipped her tea. “Well, after all that, how can I say no? We’re going with your plans. Jeff, I’d like to explain certain points of Equestrian law to you.”
Jeff smiled. “I’m glad you two worked it out, though I should tell you your schemes for Ms. Castan aren’t going to make you very many friends.”
“Say rather that we’ll soon learn who our real friends are,” replied Luna. Celestia laughed ruefully.
Jeff nodded. “Regardless, let’s talk about that interview. It sounded like you’re interested?”
Celestia nodded acquiescence. “But I should tell you I’ve already promised one Bob Carpeter that he’d have the first interview, so I’ll have to insist he be involved. I’m not certain which press agency he works for, but we met on the lakeside, so you have his face on one of your recording devices.”
“We’ll contact him, your majesty. But one thing…”
“Hm?” said Celestia, with a note of warning.
“Mr. Carpeter works for a small-town news organization, and, since we’re hoping to print the interview, they just don’t have the resources to keep up with the demand we’ll probably be looking at. What if his crew worked with a larger organization?”
Celestia smiled. “Maybe. Do you have any in mind?”
“Well, it just so happens we’ve had quite a few offers.” He counted them off on his fingers. “The New York Times, The New York Times Book Review, Us Weekly, People, Hong Kong Press, Al-Jazeera, Playboy—”
Mag frowned. “Playboy? What does Playboy want?”
“An interview,” said Jeff.
A grin crept up Celestia’s face. “Playboy sounds rather a lot like Playcolt. Would this news organization happen to publish photo collections of attractive women?”
“Alongside articles.” Jeff nodded. “They’ve had some high-profile interviews, actually. Martin Luther King, John Lennon…”
Mag didn’t know what was what anymore. Luna snickered, and Mag realized this was really happening.
“And how many weeks will it take to arrange this interview?”
“To get you in a room with a single interviewer? Give it a day.”
“I have plans tomorrow morning. What if everyone involved could teleport?”
***
Celestia made herself comfortable on the loveseat in the TV room of her suite, taking up both places. Sitting boyishly on the floor with his paunch tucked under a wood and glass coffee table, balding Bob Carpeter of The Big Bear Herald and Forecast arranged his notes in a rough circle around him. They consisted of pages torn from legal pads and little pocket notebooks, scraps of newspapers from other publications, and a printout of the Playboy submission guidelines, also covered in Bob’s handwritten scrawls. Jeff sat behind him in an armchair with his elbow on an armrest and his cheek resting on his knuckles, unmoving, watching Bob.
Mag stood behind Celestia and drummed her fingers on the top of the backrest cushion. Celestia glanced at Mag’s fingers. Mag stopped.
Bob glanced up at Celestia to smile nervously. “One moment, your majesty. I’m just figuring this out.”
The door opened and Bittermann peeked in. Celestia waved at her. Bittermann saluted quickly, shut the door with her other hand, and attempted the “unobtrusive, anonymous bodyguard” stance, but couldn’t quite manage the necessary stillness with Mag looking at her. Mag went to stand beside her, leaning against the wall with her hands behind her back.
“So,” said Mag.
“I’m on duty,” was Bittermann’s ready answer.
“You may take a short break to resolve this,” said Luna. “Talk amongst yourselves; I shall be back in five minutes.”
Bittermann blinked. “But—”
Luna’s shadow faded a bit, but Mag could see it move its wings and legs as if taking to the air. Luna conjured the shadows of a book and a gramophone, which levitated beside her. She opened the book with a hoof and read.
“I didn’t ask her to do that,” said Mag.
Bittermann’s eyes went to the shadow of the gramophone. “She’s playing music? Can you hear it?”
“Nope. I kind of wish I could. I don’t know what book that is, either. Anyway, hey, listen—”
Bittermann straightened and faced forward. “Yes, Ms. Wilson?”
Mag leaned against the wall with affected calm. She forced herself to make eye contact but couldn’t hold it. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable last night. I’m just going to say you’ve piqued my queeriosity, and if you want to do anything about it, come get me. Buy me dinner, or just hang out and talk. Or we can be friends again. Were we friends? I don’t know how that works. I don’t know anything, really, so just... tell me what you want.”
Bittermann blinked with what Mag decided to interpret as an affirmative.
That, so far as Mag could tell, was all she’d be getting out of her. Mag couldn’t think of anything appropriately graceful and reassuring, so she winked and went back to Celestia’s couch.
Handling that sort of thing in short bursts struck Mag as a good strategy. Less pressure, more time to think.
What was Bittermann’s problem, though? Would there be some kind of disaster if the Marine Corps found out? She couldn’t see why. You couldn’t get much more homoerotic than the military.
Mag set the mystery aside and focused on the situation at hand. She returned to Celestia’s side.
“—is why Luna is wrong about dessert wines. And I see my moral support is here. You said you were ready, Bob?”
Bob set a cassette tape recorder on the table and flipped a switch. “Ready.”
“Ask away.”
Bob stared at his notes and swallowed. “Yes. So… good afternoon, your majesty.”
Celestia turned up her chin and waved an officious hoof. “It is, it is indeed, with weather excellent for flying.” She dropped her hoof and her chin. “Relax. We’re all friends here. Maybe I can start with a question of my own. How did you enjoy the trip here?”
“The teleport? Well, I’m impressed, though I think one of these days we’ll all want to know how that worked.” Bob turned a page and chewed the eraser of his pencil. “Hm.”
“I apologize in advance for the paperwork,” said Celestia.
“Hey, we can start there if you don’t mind.” Bob flipped his notebook and opened to an empty page. “Paperwork?”
“Paperwork. I’m told any human who interacts with me has to fill out a great deal of paperwork afterwards. I hope someone warned you.”
“Yes, that was in Mr. Jeff’s briefing.”
Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “Briefing? I hadn’t heard about this. Jeff?”
Jeff closed his eyes and leaned back. “We had a nice little talk about obligations, journalistic and otherwise, just to make sure Bob understands the situation.”
Bob waved away Celestia’s concern. “No, yes, that was all straightforward. He just told me some of his people would want to talk to me after the interview about any sensitive information you might give me. He also told me not to worry about you, your majesty, and that you’re the safest person in the room.”
Celestia pretended to glower. “Oh, am I? I should turn every weapon in the building into wildflower bouquets, and turn all the armor into climbing ivy. Would that make you feel safer?”
Jeff coughed into his fist. “And that’s the first thing we’d like you to not include in your article, Bob.”
Bob crossed out what he’d written. “If you say so. We should move on. We humans have seen you on camera and obviously a lot of us are going to read this article, but we don’t know much about Princess Luna. Can you tell me about her?”
Celestia laughed. “Luna the pony, Luna the loved one? I could describe her forever. She’s my beloved little sister, the heart of my heart, my oldest friend, my most interesting nemesis, and my favorite person. She’s also foul-mouthed, arrogant, blunt, and self-righteous, and I love her for all that too. Reader, if you have a dream about her, be on your best behavior; it may in fact be her.”
“Wow,” said Bob. He checked the time on his tape recorder and wrote it down with a small note. The note said, “wow.”
He tapped his pencil on the paper. “And Princess Luna shares a body with Mag Wilson? Am I getting that right?”
“For the moment,” said Celestia.
Bob cleared his throat and rearranged his legs. “One theory I’ve heard—I don’t believe it, personally—is that either Ms. Wilson or Princess Luna isn’t real.”
“They’re both real. Right, Mag?”
“I’m 99% sure. I try not to think about it.”
“Two different auras,” confirmed Celestia.
Bob didn’t look at Mag. “The world has heard a few descriptions of Ms. ‘Mag Wilson,’ and some of them sound a little like your description of Princess Luna. Would you say the two are similar in any way?”
Celestia glanced at Mag. “How very carefully worded. Well, I think they’ve been rubbing off on each other, and I know they egg one another on sometimes, but that’s not what you meant. Two separate auras, Bob. One overlapping the other.”
“Sorry, your majesty. How did you meet Ms. Wilson?”
“I met her on the lakeshore immediately after passing into this world. Within five minutes she convinced me that humans could help me bring back my world.”
Mag hadn’t heard this before.
Bob hunkered over his notes. “How did she do that?”
“I asked her to describe humans. She told me you are all, to quote, ‘a murderous pack of absolute bastards.’”
Mag caught Jeff rolling his eyes. He saw her looking and flashed a reproachful smile, as if he’d caught her eating too many cookies.
“In other words,” continued Celestia, “she showed artfulness and a capacity for idealism, and by extension the same for all humans. What more could I want? It’s also possible that exhaustion and desperation made me optimistic, but optimism is better than the alternative anyway.”
Mag cringed inwardly. There was something almost tyrannical in the way the princesses attached meaning to every little thing people did. Sarcasm and offhand remarks became dangerous. What else had Mag said that Celestia saw hidden meaning in, gave secret importance to? What about Luna?
Bob was paying less attention to his notes now that he’d warmed up. He scribbled in his notebook absentmindedly. “And how can humans help?”
Celestia broke eye contact with Bob. “And now I have to tell you my conclusions about my quest. I’m sorry.” She closed her eyes and rested her head on the cushion. “I’m so sorry. You can’t help me. I’ve realized this over the past 24 hours. Do you know what the remains of Equestria look like? It’s an airless black void and nothing is left but dust and mirrors. Dead.”
She lay there silently, long enough that Mag thought she’d fallen asleep.
She pulled another cushion over her head and held it over her eyes with a cocked hoof. “You humans. You’re so excited about us. You thought you’d met another race of intelligent creatures, and your race didn’t have to be alone anymore—I can hardly imagine the terrible quiet of a world with only one race. But I’m afraid there are only two living ponies left. Luna, are you there? Talk to me.”
“I am here,” said Luna, “and you are wrong. No one is alone, not us and not the humans. Write that down, Bob Carpeter.”
Bob remembered what he was doing, picked up his pencil and began to write again, though with the same stricken expression. “Yes. Okay.”
Celestia sighed. “Luna is right. There are seven billion sapient beings in this world. I suppose my question should be, would humanity be interested in having seven billion and two? We’re still deciding where to go next, you understand, but this is a good world. Whatever Mag says.”
Celestia closed her eyes. Bob’s pencil had stopped; he just sat on the floor and watched her, interviewer and princess both silent.
“Luna, find me in my dreams,” said Celestia. She teleported away, and this time she didn’t take anyone with her.
***
They took a break.
“Pardon our melodrama,” said Luna.
Bob stared at the empty loveseat. “Yes. Right.”
“Bob is a diminutive for ‘Robert,’ yes? May I call you Robert instead?”
“No problem,” said Bob. His head dropped and he toyed with the eraser of his pencil, idly carving a groove into it with his thumb. “I pictured this all a little differently, I guess. Is that Princess Luna? I’m talking to Princess Luna now?”
“Yes,” said Luna. She held out Mag’s hand. “Charmed, Robert.”
Bob, seeing that Luna held Mag’s hand hanging down loosely, hunched down to kiss Mag’s knuckle. Mag wiped it against her pants when Bob looked away.
“Robert means ‘bright fame,’” said Luna, “and Bob means ‘to bounce.’ Do I have that right? Why do you go by the latter?”
He shrugged. “I just like to be less formal that way, your majesty.”
“For the sake of mutual respect, I prefer formality when speaking with inferiors—social inferiors, I mean. Political inferiors? I beg your pardon; you’ll have to imagine a less insulting term that doesn’t undermine my point.” Luna’s shadow coughed into a hoof, embarrassed. Bob didn’t notice. “In any case, Robert, you might interview me while my sister sleeps.”
“What questions should I be asking her?” Bob wondered to himself.
“Or me,” said Luna. “Anything will do, I would think.”
“Why is she horse-shaped?” he whispered.
“Planes influence one another. Concepts and forms travel on the zephyrs of shared dreams and are carried across the divides between aethers. But of course there are always differences. In our world, apes are beasts and equines are not.”
“Hm?” Bob scratched the back of his neck.
“Interview me,” said Luna, loudly.
Bob sat up and licked his pencil. “You know what? Actually, I do have some questions for you.”
“I would think someone should. Hurry, before she returns.”
Bob pulled out a pencil sharpener and grinded it back into a proper point. “Well, first, you and Princess Celestia were once rivals?”
“Oh, I was a proper villain,” said Luna, as if she were gossiping about someone else behind their back. “My sister and I rule in shifts, you see, each in our proper time.”
“I’ve heard you’re the princess of the night?”
“E’en so.” Luna sounded somewhat taken aback at being interrupted, but Bob didn’t notice. “I rule when the world sleeps. This is a fascinating duty in its own right, of course, but there is little glory in it, and many of my greatest victories have gone unknown; I was the lesser sister in the eyes of all.” Luna’s shadow glanced at the empty loveseat. “Almost all. In any case, it is also a lonely responsibility.”
“What responsibilities specifically? I mean, what did you do?”
“It is somewhat of a long list. I guided the night sky along its course—”
Jeff cleared his throat. “We’re keeping that kind of thing to ourselves for this interview, actually. We think people aren’t ready to hear about all that.”
“About magic?”
Jeff smiled apologetically. “About anything that might intimidate people. Her other majesty has already agreed to this. Some of your powers, like, oh, the star-moving, can be intimidating. We also don’t want to suggest any military implications you two might have.”
“We do have ‘military implications.’ My sister and I have sundered empires.”
“That’s the problem. Does anyone really need to know that? It’s not as if you’re going to declare war on humanity, and we don’t want to cause a panic.”
Luna sighed. “And if we do ever declare war on humanity, I suppose it’s just good sense not to tell you what we’re capable of. But as for your question—”
“Sometimes it’s hard to tell whether you two are kidding,” said Jeff.
“As to your question, Robert, let us simply say that at the time, my duties lay in matters of magic and ritual rather than the citizenry. It felt as if the ponies belonged to my sister and I had nothing but empty night, and I grew to hate her for it. No one hates like a sibling, Robert. I plotted to destroy her and everything she loved.”
“…and everything she loved,” Bob murmured as he wrote. “What’s that mean?”
“The daylight world. The sun. The society we ruled. I wanted to take it from her, and look into her eyes as I crushed it all between my hooves.”
“Gosh,” said Bob. He wrote a note in the margin.
“I enlisted the help of an alien spirit called ‘Nightmare’ and let it possess me. In the mingling of our souls, I found the might I required to defeat my sister.”
“And what did she do?”
“Pulled a set of artifacts from our treasury and used them to banish me to the moon. They are called ‘The Elements of Harmony.’”
Jeff winced. “I’d also rather we didn’t talk about magical weapons.”
“Then I suppose I’ll stop telling this story, since every plot element upsets you.”
“I think we can salvage it,” said Bob. “I know the public wants to hear from you, as well.”
The wings of Luna’s shadow lifted hopefully. “They do?”
“Absolutely. What happened to the spirit?” Bob checked his notes. “The Nightmare?”
“Banished with the magic artifacts we aren’t allowed to discuss, 1,000 years later, this time wielded by six heroes of the age. Celestia gave me the chance to mend my ways. I took it.”
Bob nodded with pursed lips. “Uh-huh, uh-huh. How long ago was that?”
“Two or three years ago, Robert.”
The room went quiet.
Mag stared at Luna’s shadow. “Girl, what? I thought this was a long time ago.”
Luna’s shadow shrugged. “’Twas a lifetime ago. The millennia I spent plotting her destruction feel more distant now than those ancient days before our quarrel.”
Celestia teleported in without warning or fanfare. Bob jumped up and knocked his knee on the coffee table, and Theresa’s hand shot into her open coat. Celestia yawned and studied the tableau with suspicion. “Are you hijacking my interview, Luna?”
“No, I am usurping it. This is my interview now. You may leave.”
Celestia sat down. “I think not. Is Luna revealing any state secrets?”
Bob passed her his notes. “I’m sure she didn’t. Here, this is what we were talking about.”
“No, mine! Don’t let her have that!”
“Sorry,” whispered Mag. There was nothing she could do.
The pages floated in front of Celestia. Her eyes scanned the pages. “Galactic-level telekinesis, the Nightmare parasite, magic weapons… No wonder you waited until I was asleep.”
Luna harrumphed. “It was not on purpose. The flow of conversation simply led me there. And it’s too late. What’s done is done and now it is in his records, indelible.”
“No, I see an eraser right over there.”
“You are a sewer of a sister, and if you alter a single letter I will renew my vow to destroy you. Robert, reclaim your notes before she does something she’ll be made to regret.”
Mag snatched Bob’s notes out of the air. “Bob says he can make it work.” She handed the papers to their owner. “Right?”
“I think so,” he said, taking them. “I do have a couple more questions for Princess Luna. Is that okay with everyone?”
“I would be delighted,” answered Luna.
“What do you think of Earth so far, your majesty?”
“Humans are howling mad, both individually and in aggregate, but you have redeeming qualities. I especially appreciate your absurd little toes.”
Bob turned his attention back to Celestia. “And you, your majesty?”
“I’ve answered that elsewhere, you know. But you’re brilliant, sensitive, and affectionate, and you have an unjustly low opinion of yourselves, which I think only speaks to a keen sensitivity to morality and ethics. If I had to pick one word, I’d choose ‘quixotic.’”
“Interesting. Got it, got it. Cool.” Bob rolled his pencil between his fingers. “And since Ms. Wilson is here—” He looked up at her.
“Huh?”
“The public hasn’t heard from you yet, regarding the Castan incident.”
Oh, Christ. “What about it?”
“Well… what do you think of what happened?” Bob shrank a bit as Celestia looked down at him coldly.
“Be more considerate, Bob,” Celestia warned.
Mag decided Bob shouldn’t get a chance to dig himself deeper. What did she think? She’d been trying not to think about it, actually, but some things had crossed her mind. “Well, Castan is a fucked up kid, basically. We talked a little. She was born into this reclusive family with a lot of weird expectations, and it all just kind of came crashing down when she saw me with Celestia. I don’t know what’s going to happen to her now. I’ll say this, there’s not much she could have done to me.”
Celestia’s eyes glittered with opportunity. “I’ve come to interpret things a little differently. In hindsight, Ms. Castan’s kidnapped both my sister and someone I consider an Equestrian citizen. Can you see how that would make me feel, under the circumstances? The current feeling in both the American and the Canadian political world is that she should be sent back to Canada for a trial for several alleged crimes. I’ve read that list of crimes, and according to the principles of Equestrian law, I don’t see anything more heinous than kidnapping my sister. I’ve declared national emergencies for less. And so I’m going to arrange extradition treaties with the relevant nations. She should be remanded to my custody and tried under Equestrian law.”
Over the course of Celestia’s speech, Mag saw Jeff’s face slowly twist into a kind of laughing grimace. He covered his face at the word “extradition.”
“And that’s all going to make it to publication,” ordered Celestia to both Bob and Jeff.
“Well of course,” said Bob, cluelessly. “But what’s the Equestrian punishment for kidnapping a princess and an Equestrian citizen?
“Typically? Some combination of supervision, separation from bad influences, gardening, maintenance duties in the palace, a curfew, a stern talking-to, a letter to the convicted criminal’s parents, and compulsory vocational training where appropriate,” Celestia said loftily.
Mag nodded along. “All very scary.”
The room was silent except for the scratches and ticks of Bob’s writing. He crossed a T and said, “Well, thank you all very much. We’ve reached the last question on my list. So, there’s been some speculation that you might adopt some kind of leadership role in human society. Have you considered that?”
Celestia smiled. “No, not even by example. I plan to make several grave mistakes very soon.”
Jeff muttered, “They’re gonna have me shot.”
Celestia kicked guiltily at the carpet. “Yes, I suppose I’ve made things a bit complicated for you. I’ll do what I can, of course. For example, I can probably catch bullets.”
“I’d appreciate that, ma’am.”
***
Bob turned off the tape recorder and gathered his notes.
“I enjoyed that,” said Celestia. “A pity I didn’t have the time to model as well, or I would have offered. I don’t suppose I’ll get a free issue when it comes out?”
Bob smiled nervously at Jeff, who smiled back. Bob tapped his notes straight. “I don’t know, your majesty. I’ve never worked for a magazine before, and definitely nothing this high profile. I hope they like my submission.”
“Well, I liked it very much, and found you very professional,” said Celestia.
Mag laid a hand on Celestia’s back. “So you’re okay, right?”
Celestia leaned her head on Mag’s shoulder. “It’s nothing.”
“You sure?”
“I’ll survive. We’ll all survive. But, Jeff, I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you found the Nightmare?”
He met Celestia’s gaze out of the corner of his eyes. “We think so, yes. Some scary things have been happening down in the Republic of Inca, in a large town near La Paz.”
“Mag, please collect information on Inca. In fact, I’d like every relevant book and textbook you can find, and please Google all of the internet Wikipedia pdf jay-peg webpage things you can find on its history over the last few hundred years. I’ll read them on the way there.”
Jeff frowned. “We have experienced professionals who can do this kind of thing, you know.”
“She’s my aide de camp. She’ll do fine.”
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Rrepublic of Inca? Now that sounds a bit ominous.
Uhhh, please remind me what's been going on until the latest chapter?
7711390 Oh god, I can't even begin to help you. This is a constant problem, and I don't have an easy answer. Maybe I should set up a wiki or something.
I feared this wonderful work had died off! Thank you for keeping the dream alive.
I love this story so much.
That whole exchange is beautiful.
And she should totally be that edition's cover mare. *nods*
Luna's shadow is another very nice touch (and of course still the constant bickering between the two sisters and the portrayal of these two so different mindsets).
So much stuff to like!
7711353 Shouldn't that be either Bolivia or Mexico, since it's containing a city named La Paz?
7711710 It's in Bolivia, which isn't very far from where the Inca empire was. I was just remarking on the fact that such a republic doesn't exist in our world, to my knowledge. And since La Paz is the Spanish name, something must've taken a hard right historically for it to be in the "Republic of Inca".
My guess is mesoamerican mages fighting back against the conquistadors. Because that would be amazing.
7711756 Or, perhaps, Simon Bolivar was never born in this world, since the woman who would have been his mother married someone in the Nightmare Cult? And thus the various South American nations were founded by other people, and given other names.
7711795 ... but that's so boringly plausible! There's hardly any craziness in there!
It's Alive!
Good thing I happened to reread this fine bit of fluff a few weeks ago, so I actually remember where it left off.
Omake: The future
"Mmm... " Mag said as she brushed Celestia's coat. "I been thinking, about what I heard, what I saw, what I have been told and... I decided is okay."
Celestia looked at Maggie eyes "What did you decide that was okay?"
"Change. I am becoming less and more since I meet you, less human, more something else?"
"What makes you said that?"
"My brain and soul have been changed, I share space in my head with your sister. All those changes are making less human and more something else. Whatever I am becoming I decided that is okay."
Celestia looked down "I am sorry, I didn't plan for this changes to happen to you."
Mag continued to brush Celestia's coat, unsure what to say.
"Uh... what if we made a story?"
"A story? What kind of story?"
"A story about a world called Equestria. We got paper from that Elder tree, let's use it to write a story. then let's tell everyone the story."
"Why?" It was almost cute to see Celestia confused.
"Magic. And a bit of hope. I don't know if it will work, but some worlds exist inside books right? I had a talk about that with Luna after we watched The Neverending Story movie yesterday."
"You think... that you can save Equestria that way?"
"First a book, then maybe comic books? maybe a cartoon? We tell them the story, we make it remender it, love it. And at the right time, all that belief and emotions we pour them on the book. I know it won't be the same and at first the creatures inside the book will be fake. But... then we leave the book were Equestria used to be. We go there once in a while and read it out loud. And... then we hope for a miracle."
Celestia closed her eyes and a avoided looking to me. "You... you really believe that would help?"
"Yes. It won't be fast, it might take decades, centuries. We will end hating it, but... eventually a new Equestria will be born from the book and fill the space left by the previous one."
"Humans don't live that long."
"Humans are in charge of the Elder, I told him to fuck off remember? I don't think I will be human in a few decades anyway. And not a pony... just... something else? Besides you have up. This is my plan and Luna aproves so unless you get a better idea, we are going with it."
It's about time! I love this story, and I'm really, really looking forward to more. I especially like the sibling dynamic between Celestia and Luna, reminds me of my more recent relationship with my brother now that we don't hate each other.
7712209
this was brilliant.
The things I love about this story are still here in full force: the dialogue is believeable and so interesting and fun to read, the characters are very compelling and are pretty relatable without being blatant audience inserts or archetypical cutouts.
I did not like where the romance went, though. I don't reallly get why Mag was straight in the first place if she's just going to be queerious now. I know that sexuality is a spectrum and some people can shift on that spectrum but when her being straight was used as such a dramatic cliffhanger in the previous chapter I really thought that it would take more than one introspective scene for Mag to overcome that and give Bitterman a shot.
7712398
Thank you.
7712450
The same Mag whose head is not screwed right? Between having her mind screwed by an Elder God and having Luna in her head, I don't think her trying to give it a try is so bad.
I mean maybe the part that Elder God messed up so Mag could walk again was the one that have a damn about being straight or not.
Plus in case you forgot, Mag lies to herself a lot. "Sure, I had sex with girls before, more than once, but I am straight now!"
7712450
7712748
I always have misgivings when reading Pink's omake. What if we both have the same idea, and it bothers me enough to change my plans? It hasn't happened yet, though.
Anyway, rule of thumb: Mag Makes Unhealthy Decisions. But it sounds like I could have done a better job showing that this issue hasn't been resolved, which is fair to say. In fact I could probably do something about that with a single well-placed sentence somewhere in this chapter. I'll look into it.
7712817
'Luna, why aren't you... saying anything? You live in my head, so you know. Why don't you want to say anything, give me advice and so on?"
"Because is your choice, not mine. This isn't my body, is yours."
"And didn't you think that until you get your own body, that means you are a part of this too? I want your opinion!
"My opinion is that is still your choice. But... does she really like you or is... a fan crush? Ah dammit! I shouldn't have said that!
"Me? Having a fan? ME?"
"Think on the things you have done since meeting my sister. Then think what would be your reaction if you had meet a handsome human male that had done the same things. Wouldn't you feel atracted to said male? Won't he be a kind of hero, a person to admire? That's what I am worried about. And that's why I didn't want to say anything.
"Does it really matter? I mean... I just.. I... I want someone."
"Mag, if it matters or not is up to you. As an Elder I always outlasted everyone but my sister. So what I learned is to apreciate the relationships that mean something no matter how long their last. Will a relationship with her make you happy? Will it make her happy? Ten years from now, will you look at making the first move on her with fondness? Matters of the heart are conplicated, specially for a person like you that always lies to herself. There, that's what I think, happy now?
"Yes, thank you. But I still don't know what to do."
"Again, that's up to you. I am not my sister, ask her if you want to just be pushed in a direction.
Ok you said before that you don't have a plan for this story, but do you at least have an ending at least slightly planned? Because I want this story to have an ending and resurrecting a world isn't something you do without a plan.
Excellent! I don't know why I like this story so much (aside from the obvious perk that the plot line is awesome), but as best as I can figure, it's something about not only your writing style but the way that you can portray the human race in such an accurate way to how I feel when contemplating my mortal existence - a mixture of indifference, surrender, slight hope, a fair amount of angst, and a reasonable amount of 'pissed off' at existing in the first place. Keep up the great work - I love seeing updates for this story!
It's always a pleasure when this one gets updated
7713246 Yeah, I've got a plan. Too many.
Is Celestia hoping for that one piece of information she needs to properly move forward, or will she pull out StarSwirl's time-spell and see where that gets her?
7713775 I'm glad people understood her rant. I wrote it to be as much like naturalistic, spoken English, rather than the usual written English most stories are in, because I wanted it to be obvious that Mag is speaking impulsively and off-the-cuff. So I wrote it to be sort of garbled and disorganized, and you know, there's a reason novels almost never write with spoken English grammar.
This fic is a pain in the ass to write, but it always gives me interesting puzzles to solve. It amazes me that something can be so infuriating sometimes and so relaxing/interesting at others.
Yeah, I like Mag too. She's a very flawed person, and I agree with Celestia: a person's flaws are just their virtues expressed backwards.
7713944
Not always. A greedy person would have a hard time being generous and as that Bastard said, humans are not ponies.
Plus you know, does Mag even counts as human anymore?
This has quietly become one of my favorite reads.
This is one of the better stories on the internet Wikipedia pdf jay-peg webpage thing.
welcome back and with a banging chapter to boot super good sir.
Every time I see this, I feel like I want to say this is my favorite fic on the site that is ongoing. Certainly, it is good to see it come back. Keep it up, you are doing awesome! I would say more, but I'm riding on the bicycle at the gym right now and I'm out of breath.
im not sure what it is... the vernacular or diction. the abstract ideas or maybe the clashing personalities of a serene deity being friends (?) with a human like mag (who in my opinion deserves to become a sort of god herself with what she's been through) but i absolutly love reading this
i like reading this story because of the way its written not because of the path the story takes if that makes any sense.
and my favorite thing is the descriptions of humanity given throughout this chapter! splendid!
And of course an uncomfortable relationship simply MUST interfere with the plot at some point.
Ugh, you mammals and your hormones! When will you evolve some more and simply automutate like the rest of the universe?
7713246 One should always have a destination in mind for any story with a significant conflict or quest.
Otherwise, the story may end up getting "Lost" in the end.
Bob is the breakout star of this chapter; I was instantly in love.
OH MY GOD HE'S SO CUUUUTE.
Bittermann was also adorable. The words and actions of every character, in fact, were nothing but a treat to read. This was great; bring on the next chapter, I've got my red pen!
Pleeeaaaase write a sidestory about Celestia's day in the Playboy Mansion. Please please please. The world needs this.
7713319
TRUTH.
So, I reread the previous chapter, as is my way, and I am left with a compound question: where/what is/was the Paper World's regent's sibling?
Celestia pls.
Make the time! 
derpicdn.net/img/view/2012/6/5/4320.png
Man, you must have a really great team behind you to write so well so consistently.
7727484 They're mostly awesome, except for that one guy. What an asshole! I mean, wow.
Oh hi AA I didn't see you there
jk, ilu all
7727046 Most worlds don't have siblings, cf the Maker, the Sculptor.
As for that Playboy model thing, man have I been getting that a lot. I think you're number six.
7726402 I'm glad you like Bob, because this fic doesn't have a lot of memorable male characters. We're more than halfway through, and Jeff hasn't even come into his own yet. On one hand, sure, nobody cares, but on the other hand, it's gotten pretty silly.
7727638
Is the two Elders influence, they come from a world of powerful females and where powerful males are with a few exemptions, villains.
Even if it's not their world, Luna & Celestia continued stay influences things.
"So... have you noticed it yet?" Mag said and sipped her tea, she wasn't usually a tea gal but this tea was really good.
"Realized what?" Celestia asked and thrn also zipped her tea.
"The most important characters in this play tend to be female. You and Luna are influencing this world without even noticing and that's why the Elder let you two stay."
"Play? Like a story, a theater play? And are you sure?"
"Yes and yes. This world, Earth... is unbalanced. You are love, friendship and rainbows with cute little pups and kittens. The more you two stay... the more this world will change. Just as the Elder planned, more tea?"
"I knew it!"
"Yes you did Luna, yes you did."
Either I forgot how to read with this chapteror again it feels like a different world than the previous one...what seems off to me: relationship of Mag and BittermanMag should have just said to her it isn't going to work out, even though she likes her as a friend (still a bit off but seems better to me)also partially the interview seems off - forced to be different (hopefully that's just my headache)Otherwise - FINALLY A NEW CHAPTER !!
#edit
Well I reread the chapter
it must have been the headache earlier, I think I must have misunderstood a few statements, and the rest of the confusion was caused by the headache...
7739457 I like long comments from out of nowhere.
I'm trying to decide how to answer this. I guess I'll just list the things I'm thinking and you can decide which ones are relevant to your point.
- Your complaint sounds like the old problem of reconciling free will with an omniscient and omnipotent God, and the Abrahamic religions have been chewing on that one for centuries. Insofar as the Eldest's and his world are analogous to that whole debate, there's no answer I could possibly give that'd satisfy. The second I try, I run face-first into Aquinas, Boethius, all those dudes.
- I've always tried to be vague about the exact level of clarity for the Eldest's powers, for various reasons. One reason is, well, there are hard magic systems and there are soft magic systems. I'm definitely going for soft magic here -- Patricia McKillip and Peter Beagle, not Brandon Sanderson. And when you're writing soft magic, if your explanations for the inner workings of magic are too cut and dry, it hurts the mystique and encourages the reader to think like a mathematician instead of a daydreamer. Lots of readers want exactly that, obviously, but this isn't that kind of fic.
You as a reader could say you'd prefer that soft magic systems at least be able to stand up to a FEW seconds of critical thinking. To that I'd say, yeah, well, different lines of logic are more obvious to different people. Personally I think Celestia's Babelfish powers are complete bullshit that don't survive the slightest scrutiny, but no one else seems to mind.
That said, the Eldest's power isn't absolute. It doesn't see outside of his home dimension, for example. I've got other rules.
- Sometimes I picture people as automated meat-robots anyway. Free will is a tricky idea even without introducing an omniscient being. What are decisions, anyway? Personally I make decisions based on previous experiences, predilections, temperament, logic (so I like to think), and the feelings of the moment, and all of those ultimately come from outside stimuli. So through this viewpoint, the Eldest is as much of a meat-robot as everyone else, and the only difference is the stimuli he's receiving. It's like Dr. Manhattan's line about being able to see his own puppet-strings. Come to think of it, go read/reread Watchmen.
7740218
Ah, ya beat me. I was gonna reply to my own comment to say that the issue basically doesn't actually seem to affect the story, and some general complaint about how that's almost never the case for almost every single story that does interesting (but flawed) things with time. Basically, I came to the conclusion that it wasn't a problem and was going to say so. Anyways, my complaint was about how time stuff affects the story, and not any philosophical stuff. If you introduce a character who arguably controls everything, then you run the risk of cheapening the story for people. Any time something bad happens, you can point to one of these character and say it's this guy's fault for not dealing with it. (This guy should have made the US elect the other president six years ago, then we'd never have martian infiltrators stealing all the cheese!) Stuff like that. It can take a lot of useless exposition and attention away from everything else when authors try and deal with that, for obvious reasons. This story's basically sidestepped all that well enough, I feel, so it's probably not going to negatively affect the story you're trying to tell.
Since you brought it up, easy language translation isn't just an old staple of science and fantasy fiction. It's also immensely easier than actually diving into the mechanics of language. Stories that try and tackle the mechanics of languages and translation tend to be revolve around language stuff in a big way. I think everyone's given every story a free pass on that one, going back as far as, say, Star Trek.
So I think I pretty much owe you my little rant on Dr. Manhattan. Unfortunately, I don't recall having ever posted it before, and I have to go soon, my planet needs me.
67.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l2oir9npfC1qc073co1_400.gif
I'll come back later today and do that.
P.S. You'll be happy to know I spend an unreasonably long stretch of time reading the entire story. I said earlier that the story was like "an author firing on all cylinders", and that applies to basically every single chapter of the story.
7740722 As a fan of the Nasu-verse, I feel I should weigh in with my own comment on the whole "everything bad/good can be blamed on X (insert power/personage here)". In the Fate/Stay Night series there is a guy who basically wields the power of multiverse control/influence. His name is Zelretch. The major characters have an epithet for when what they know doesn't apply any more. This applies to everything, including their gender, physics, the composition of reality, basically anything that changes for no reason gets an uttering of damn it Zelretch. Because he enjoys pranks. Nine times out of ten, they are right. Unfortunately for them, he likes the major characters. Hence why he drops them in normally unsurvivable situations just to see how they will survive it. That's what he does to people he likes, so what remains of those he hates? The boring masses get ignored.
7740722
Aww, that gives me the warm and fuzzy feelings, and I'm not even the author.
I completely agree. First time I read it, I was astonished that he'd never written anything for a long period of time before now. I get to see a little bit more of the behind the scenes of the story than most do, and I have to say that Ragnar has the single most important aspect of a great author, which is that he really gives a shit about getting things right. As we edit this, sometimes spending close to a month on a chapter(though that's largely due to us having other obligations that keep us from doing what we really want), trying to improve the story; the prose, themes, story structure, and so on, I always got the sense that we're both just having a blast. He tries so hard to get everything right, down to the smallest detail. I'm just happy to be a part of this, and maybe one day I can help him reach perfection.
Thanks a bunch for your criticism. I think the highest praise of any work is when someone cares enough about it to try and figure out what could make it better.
How does this not have more likes! HOW!!!
7746802 Derpmind can't have MY thanks until they post that Dr. Manhattan rant they promised days ago. I've had that comment sitting in an open tab since they posted it, just sitting there all day like Fry's dog.
7740722 I waited for you, Fry.
7746898 I think I can answer that: niche market, bizarre ideas, slow-as-molasses plot, has a human front and center, said human is abrasive and misanthropic, and chapters have been coming out slowly lately. Someone also used the word "pretentious" one time, and I've been low-key mad about it for a year because they were dead on.
Likes don't matter though ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
7746982 FWIW, I think that's part of its charm. There are few stories on this site that approach or are at a professional quality. This is one of them. A
to you and Arcanist Ascendant.
7747479
Stop it, you're making me blush
7747479 7747623 I figure there's some kind of tiny chance someone is reading this and wondering why the editor is the one who's accepting compliments, acting like he's hot shit. He's doing this because he works his ass off every time I put a chapter in front of him. Arcanist Ascendant is in fact hot shit, and he owns a part of every compliment this story gets.
7747968
I'm glad you don't think that sounded presumptuous, because I was afraid it might've as I wrote it.
When you say I own a part, it really is a small part by comparison. Watching you work is incredible; I'm just glad to be along for the ride.
7746982
Hey, I'm sorry; I wasn't able to get more than spotty cellphone internet for the past few days. (Because reasons.) I'll try and write that up tomorrow, but don't hold your breath on it; it'll only be like a couple paragraphs I think. You can close the tab, it's not worth the distraction and Fimfic will notify you anyways.
7748316
I've tried to do some basic proofreading and minor editing for a few authors on Fimfic. (Almost all one-shot stories.) I stopped because I found I had far too much influence over the final product. You say you only own a small part, but that's only because you've mercifully spared most of the story your wrath. (This joke would be more funny if I wasn't too tired to improve it.)
7748460
It's possible that all the people you edited for are weak-willed. Ragnar and I occasionally get into fights where I am, of course, completely in the right, but for some bizarre reason he insists that my perfect solution is not only stupid, but also dumb.
Stubbornness is important both for the editor and for the author. I think a balance needs to be struck where the editor has changes that absolutely must be made, while there's some things that the author will not compromise on including in the final product. Everything else should be a grey area. It's OK for editors to push, as long as the author is willing to push back.