• Published 16th Mar 2016
  • 749 Views, 23 Comments

Sabbatical, or the Study of Garden Gnome Anatomy in South Perjina - Casca



Starlight Glimmer has had enough of friendship lessons, and decides it's time for an indefinitely long sabbatical. An adventure unlike any other awaits beyond Equestria's borders!

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13: The Court of Public Opinion 3

Sunset screamed.

What had been dirt was now white, painful bright white light. What had been her falling form was now a stable, sitting, completely whole form.

And she was bound. Two sterile, polished metal cuffs held her to a kind of chair.

Well, she had been right about being bound the first time, then.

Blast of magic up the horn... yet somehow she couldn't muster up the slightest spark. Now she was really starting to panic.

Immediately the rest of her senses kicked in. She smelled something faintly pleasant, like vanilla. She heard a low buzzing, like a snuggly bumblebee sans the risk of an unfortunate potentially allergic brush-up with its sting. And in front of her was a pony, whose coat and mane were both the same shade of baby blue. She was dressed in some kind of uniform, a buttoned black coat with lapels.

Right behind her was a dimmed television screen, showing the scene of some kind of rally. Crowds of ponies, looking like a bowl of blended candy, were waving signs, foam fingers, and balloons. How they did the last one struck Sunset as interesting, and she would have tried to pay more attention if not for the blue pony blocking her view.

Wait. Binds.

"What's going on?" asked Sunset.

"All right, miss Sunset Shimmer," said the pony in a sweet voice. "I know you've got a lot of questions right now, and I'll do my best to answer them! But what we've found is that it's always best for you to stay calm and listen. I'll give you a proper explanation about everything that's been going on. If you do still have questions, there is time at the end of each section where you can ask them." She flashed a winning grin. "Is that okay?"

"Um. Could you release the cuffs, please?" asked Sunset. "I think I'm cramping up here."

The mare looked shocked. "Oh dear! That shouldn't have happened! Our Rotory 6000 was designed to keep your muscles and your blood flow healthy and active during the stasis period. We'll have to run some checkups..."

"Actually, you know, it's fine," admitted Sunset, and it was true. Now that the mare had pointed it out, she did feel fine. As if she hadn't been in stasis.

Then she frowned. Stasis?

"Go on," said Sunset, a little more suspiciously.

"So then, miss Sunset, first and foremost: welcome to Kreyvonshyiel! You may know it as the City of the Future, the Kingdom of True Democracy, or even 'utopia', though we don't dare to make such claims ourselves." The mare giggled. "My name is Elia, and I am your personal guide assigned by the Broadcasting Corporation."

Sunset's frown solidified. None of this rang a bell. Meanwhile, the screen flickered, and the display changed to a looped cartoon drawing of a city, with a single pony going in. The pony figure sat down in a chair, and thought bubbles emanated from it. Arrows stretched from those bubbles to TV sets in living rooms, where groups of other ponies watched.

"For the past couple of days," continued Elia, "you have been subject to Kreyvonshyiel's entry policy: none may enter unless the majority of the populace agrees with it. You see, in Kreyvonshyiel, we pride ourselves on being the one true democratic nation. We make all nation-related decisions like this! And, well, especially in the case of travelers, it's sort of become a tradition around these parts to do this. It's all in good fun, you'll come to realize." Another giggle.

Elia tapped the floor with a hoof and the visuals changed once more. A sleek, 3D logo, an abstraction of B.C., strutted along the screen.

"By now you may have wondered: 'Wait Elia, did you say 'all the nation-relation decisions'? And did you say 'majority of the populace?'' And you'd be right to be amazed! Miss Sunset, you're obviously a social pony. You would know how difficult it is to get ponies to do things. And you definitely seem like the kind of pony who understands the workings of traditional democracies."

Sunset found herself nodding, but Elia was seriously weirding her out. She was certain this had to be a script. If it was—and it had to be—it was eerily spot on with its assumptions of her knowledge.

"Yes, the usual democracy gets the populace to vote on representatives, and they make decisions in the courts," continued Elia. "But these representatives can be swayed. Bought. Influenced. They can switch sides and change stances. It's just a monarchy with the king divided up into little pieces, really. But just getting everyone to vote is tough. Ponies don't have the time to be constantly updated on national matters, on national contexts, and making a system available to everypony to interact with—that's really difficult!"

Elia's smile somehow widened even more.

"Which is where the Broadcasting Corporation comes in!"

The thought bubbles replaced the logo, and grew and morphed into various scenes of ponies doing wildly different things. Cycling one moment, crying the next, running away from a burning house?

"The Rotory 6000 is a national treasure. First, we put you into stasis. Then we access your brainwaves. The magitech is complex, but simply put, we guide your consciousness through a test of character that you yourself come up with. Are you mentally well? Who are you as a pony? What do you like? What worries you the most? What's your goal in life? The Broadcasting Corporation then harnesses these, as well as your own imagination, to cook up a short series that's then televised to the nation! We put you into stasis, guiding your consciousness through a test of character that you yourself come up with."

Sunset blinked in horror. All of that... had been fake? And televised?

"Yes, that's right," said Elia, snapping up the cue like a novice pool player hustled of his weekly wages. "The old systems—paper ballots, digital voting, daily emails—none of those managed to get full participation from the populace. Nopony wanted to slog through boring information, so we changed our approach and made it not boring. Mayors, public issues, trade agreements, the Broadcasting Corporation is responsible for spinning it all into easily digestible, interesting content for the populace to enjoy. That way, not only is everypony well-informed enough to vote, they want to because it's fun. It's the best and only proven way to achieving true democracy, you'll agree! Which brings us to you."

The screen changed to show Sunset's smiling, ghastly, technicolour visage.

"Now, you may be worried about your health, your privacy, your body. I want to assure you that the Broadcasting Corporation takes these things very seriously. If you recall, you did sign a waiver agreeing to this?"

Sunset did not recall that. There was a form at the gates, but...

"Round-the-clock footage of your time in stasis is available for your review. Your physical health is regulated by the Rotory; your nutrition, rest cycles, and even circulation are all cared for. In fact, we've had ponies tell us that they awake from stasis feeling healthier and more well-fed than being out and about!"

Sunset felt inclined to believe that. It wasn't much of an achievement considering how deep in crap she had been in before—"hey guys, we're better than literal pony hell"—but Elia probably held the remote control for the cuffs, so Sunset simply nodded.

Elia nodded in return. The display flickered to reveal a number of charts.

"Normally, you're left alone during the period. Normally your debriefing is done via an instructional video. But as it stands..." Elia shuffled where she stood. "The Corporation has made a special case for you."

"Hmm?" said Sunset warily.

"We love you."

Sunset blinked.

"Hmm?" she repeated, more meaningfully.

"We love you! Everypony in Kreyvonshyiel loves you! Your story, your drive, your hope in a better future... We haven't had such a powerful yet relateable character in months." Elia was actually blushing. "Personally, miss Sunset, it's a great honour. I'm a huge fan of yours."

As if it wasn't weird enough, now she was some kind of television star? Unlike stasis or whatever, being swooned over was something Sunset had experienced before. It came with being part of a band. A magical band at that. That got invited to cross-campus events as guests and stuff. The taste of star power was like a letter from an old friend. It caught her off-guard.

"You mentioned 'we'?" asked Sunset despite herself.

Elia nodded vigorously and tapped a hoof on the floor. The display changed back to the swarm of ponies. Now it made sense:

"Those are your fans," said Elia. "They've been lining up, waiting for your awakening. From stasis, you know. I haven't seen a crowd like this in ages."

Sunset took a deep breath. "Wow."

"Wow indeed, miss Sunset."

"Um, one question."

"Anything for you!"

"Could you release the cuffs?"

"Of course!" chirped Elia, and there was a hydraulic hiss. Sunset got up and tested her legs out. They actually felt fine. Properly exercised, even. How did they do that? And, of course...

"So my friend's all right? Starlight Glimmer?" asked Sunset. "She must be here too."

Elia's smile weakened. "Ah, yes. About her. We regret to inform that she... didn't make the cut. The populace, well, voted overwhelmingly against her in the first two hours of broadcasting. So..."

"What did you do to her?" asked Sunset, advancing. "If you harmed her—"

"No, no," said Elia, shaking her head. "All that means is that she is not allowed to stay. It's likely that she's at the gates, waiting for you. You, however, have a choice. Whether you wish to stay as a tourist, or even as a citizen. Your approval rating, quite frankly, gives you access to a lot of premium rights, to the point where you could be almost anything you want to be. Immediately, too. District manager, executive, politician, and if you tried you could probably even become president."

"No, that'll be fine," said Sunset warily. "I'm just a bit surprised, I guess. Did you say two hours?"

"A record," said Elia meaningfully. "I can show you if you want. Oh, right, almost forgot. Feel free to order a copy of your show at the reception when you leave the building. It's all there, along with the security camera recordings."

"Show me Starlight's show," said Sunset, and Elia tapped her hoof on the floor.

Five minutes in. Sunset found herself wincing a lot more than expected.

Seven minutes in. Elia was starting to fidget. Sunset frowned. Maybe these utopian ponies were just pansies. It wasn't that bad.

Ten minutes in:

"So, uh... you said that these shows are made by the chair? Rotory thing?"

"They harness it," replied Elia. "No, the shows are actually made entirely by your brain. The Rotory just encourages it and converts it for audiovisual preparation..."

"Ah."

Twenty minutes in. Elia's fidgeting morphed from hoof shuffling to a full on sit-up-sit-down cycle. Sunset didn't blame her.

Thirty minutes in. Sunset's hooves had gone numb, somehow.

"So, uh, this broadcasting thing. Do you show it to children?"

"Children are not allowed to vote, so no."

Sunset had lost track of how many minutes had passed, but it was well past the summoning of the ten-headed Apolloytic Creature, somewhere between its brawl with The True Ruler of The Wretched and the hordes of weeping forgotten souls from the Era of Ancients, and Sunset suspected that the gates of Bish'mal, mythical underworld of the centaur race, were about to be breached from the resulting chaos. When she waved for the showing to stop, and blinked, she could still see splatters of maroon behind her eyelids. That, and was it echoing screams in here all of a sudden?

The pause was awkward. To stop it from filling with horrific recollections, Sunset coughed.

"So," said Elia, her enthusiasm now brittle.

"Yeah," said Sunset.

More silence. It seemed that Elia hadn't fully recovered yet.

"She does that a lot," said Sunset, feeling she needed to clarify.

"What does who do?" asked Elia, head snapping around to face her.

"You know. 'Grand Invocation: Supreme'." Sunset expanded her reach a bit, trying to infer the sense of big explosions. "She really likes that spell. It's, uh, not as gory as that, though. Television, amirite?"

"Eheh."

"Well."

"Well, miss Sunset."

"I, uh... Thank you for hosting me, but I think I'd better go and meet my friend," said Sunset.


"Sunset!" called Starlight, as Sunset trotted out into the light of the sun.

"Starlight," replied Sunset.

"Whew. I'm glad you're all right," said Starlight. "What a rude city this is. We signed this form, remember? Then we got led into the doors, and then the next thing I know I woke up and these ponies in suits were dragging me back outside." She rolled her eyes. "What's up with that?"

"I have no idea," said Sunset.

"Anyways, that was a disappointment." Starlight produced a little book and entered a vehement stroke with a quill. "City of the Future, my rear end. Come on, let's get going."

Sunset took a deep breath. The air in the real world was different. Fresher, more, somehow. Just more.

She stepped forward, and caught up to her companion's side.

Comments ( 4 )

I am enjoying your version of Starlight a lot.

Well. That was fascinatingly odd. Though part of me is still hung up over a society on this planet having an Internet.

7146227
Thanks for reading! Glad you do, Starlight's character is very integral to how this story works. :twilightsmile:

7148078
The Internet's not going to be the worst offender you'll see by the end of the story uhuehue

Hmm, I was trying to go for "television". I guess the similarity of the situation to streaming gives that impression? It's a minor point, though, as long as the strangeness of the scenario stays.

7148411
I got the TV angle; it was the digital voting and e-mail that really made me stumble.

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