• Published 5th Mar 2016
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Earth Without Us - Starscribe



Human civilization ended on May 23, 2015, when everyone on earth became a pony. This is the story of how they lived, how they died, and what they achieved.

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Episode 3.8: Delayed Arrival

Diary,

Tired so I'll try to be quick. I went into way too much detail last night.

They hate grazing. What a surprise. There was some deliberation and a motion to replace me, until I pointed out that no one else had any plans to feed everyone and that if they did what I said I could promise none of them would have to eat grass a month from now.

Grazing is not an ideal situation. Grass and leaves and other plant matter are nearly tasteless, and they also don't carry much nutritional value. You have to eat for hours, not to mention all that grass bloats you up and in the end you have to get rid of it too...

A pony population that has to graze will have far less time and energy to be effective at doing other things, like rebuilding civilization. There was no need to lie about the fact that it was the first thing I wanted to end.

My charcoal is still burning. It might be another few days, or it might be done tomorrow, we'll have to see. No attacks in the night, and nothing went missing. These (former) old folks seem like good people so far.

Food, scavenging, and learning, those are our three roles. There is now a rotation, though the earth ponies will spend most of theirs in our garden and fields. Weeding, tending, digging irrigation... all while thinking about rich harvests and healthy food-crops. It's a shame they're also so valuable on any team that's venturing into the city to scavenge, or else I'd have every single one of them in with the crops all the time.

Salvage has two groups: one that looks for things we can plant, and another that looks for other stuff. Right now, I have them searching for pipes. We'll need to get water into our "field", and eventually we'll want to harness water to get our most reliable power. That takes pipes.

We can bake our own from clay of course, though that will take a kiln and fuel I'd rather not waste, so if we can find existing pipes, that will be fantastic. There's no trace of PVC, but copper is a remarkably stable material and there's plenty of that to be found. Unfortunately the only way to get it seems to be prying it off with brute strength, but tools aren't that far away. Soon enough we'll chop down all the trees in the park, and have enough fuel to keep a nascent blacksmith shop going and keep the apartments lit and warm at night.

Learning is the last group, and we're talking powers. I've sorted things so that large groups of individual races stay together—some of the time to training, and some just to helping me. Today it was a bunch of unicorns. Quite a few have already picked up glowing, though none can levitate yet. Still, I went through the practice exercises young ponies use in Equestria, and they'll be able to practice those on their own.

Earth ponies will not need much training, maybe one session about how to know their limits and what actions can separate one from the power of earth and make them vulnerable.

All the birds will be harder. They wanted a demonstration of flight today, but I had to admit that I actually haven't ever bothered to learn. This provoked a little nervousness from the ponies, who have yet to see me unable to do something. And some doubt, since after all if I can't fly how could I possibly teach them.

I had to tell them a little more about me—demonstrate the range of content in my memory. I quoted from several of their favorite books and movies (lots of Bible passages, one of the few things lots of them had memorized and could check me on).

So that's a second major challenge for my authority on day two. Still, I managed to explain things in the end. This might actually work to my advantage in the long term. I've meant to learn to fly for so long now, and finally I'm in a situation where I'll be forced. Sky would be so proud.

Of course, most of what the learning group does will not be endless rehearsing of pony powers. I'll teach more practical skills—physical combat, how to move and function as a pony. Eventually I'll have to teach how to do the more technological things I hope to start.

The time will come (around the same time as our first harvest, which I'm predicting will be about 2-3 weeks out with all this earth pony magic concentrated), when we need to start specializing ponies. They will need professions, so that ponies can develop specific skills and hone them over time. That time (and the food independence that enables it) will mean a fantastic milestone for this little community. It will also end what (so far) has been practically utopian cooperation.

I cannot exaggerate just how impressed I am with these ponies. I spent so much time moping when the Event happened—plenty more time playing video games or wandering around or watching movies. These ponies are better than that. They aren't breaking their backs or anything, and they take plenty of breaks... but they also only learned the world had ended two days ago. They arrived in the world only to be threatened with terrible harm, then fight for their lives against frightening adversaries.

Their resilience impresses me. Even Stride noticed—she told me she was amazed I had found ponies who actually knew how to work. She wasn't sure they existed. Robert easily joined in with their numbers—I didn't tell them what he used to be, or how we met. I watched him in the field today, and he opened up with the others, no longer looking perpetually ashamed of himself.

Hope is such a precious resource, catastrophic when depleted and so difficult to renew. There is so much hope, in spite of everything. These people were near the end of life, and already weighed down with the beginnings of what would've killed them. Now all of them are fresh and healthy again—young enough that they could still have children, if they wanted to.

At least so far, the weight of this incredible gift appears to have outweighed the numerous negatives—loss of family, world, luxury, and stability.

I do not expect this resource is inexhaustible. We must regain stability, and recover their quality of life. With so few, recovering any kind of technological stability would be doomed to failure. Combined with magic, though... we can do it. Lights can be replaced with spells, fertilizer can be substituted with earth pony magic, and the pegasi can do climate control. If we need to, we might even be able to create ourselves a little pocket of not-winter to extend our growing season through the colder months.

Doing something like that wreaks havoc on the surrounding climate, since of course that heat must come from somewhere and the angle of the Earth relative to the Sun is unchanged, but at the moment I'm not inclined to be terribly worried about that.

Prosperity will come. In time, I may even thank whatever superstition caused all the refugees to be dumped in one place. Working together, this might be a great source of power and learning. If we can build for each other the framework upon which civilization hangs.

We have also already learned that the refugees' connection to ancient humanity has not carried with them some intrinsic civilizing force—stripped of the necessities of survival, they are as likely to become barbarians as anyone.

Yet something makes these ponies different—they have seen a better way. I hope they will long to return to it.

-Archive

* * *

Alex stepped up onto the slightly raised platform. It had been erected on the edge of the building, overlooking the clearing they had made with their grazing in the grass of the central park. The platform would give everypony gathered in the dirt below a good view of everything she did, and help carry her voice over the heads of the ponies beneath.

"Welcome to morning practice!" she called, having to force the cheerfulness in her tone. As an earth pony, waking up with the dawn had been natural and pleasant. As a thestral, every single morning was a struggle. A struggle she tried not to show. There were only two other thestrals in her whole city, and neither of them had come. She didn't blame them.

Most of the “Association's” winged ponies were in attendance. Nancy was at the very front of the crowd, grinning at her with her usual eagerness. Many had been entranced when Alex explained that their wings were for more than decoration—few had taken to the practice as eagerly as Nancy. The little pegasus could already hover and fly short distances without much effort.

"Wednesdays mean flight practice. For those of you who've been with us the whole time, you'll be ready for the takeoff techniques we'll be covering." She glanced over the crowd—a few of the faces had skipped some of the early classes. "Those who haven't better just watch." She gestured behind her. "You'll notice the windows on the second floor have been removed. That wasn't done for ventilation. If that scares any of you, best just watch the rest of us."

She took them through the morning stretches, a brief jog around the park, and a few stretch exercises. The program was ripped straight from Equestria's "Wonderbolt Recruit's Training Manual," so Alex was fairly confident it would eventually produce results. Eventually.

Some mornings she ran fitness drills with the earth ponies, or combat drills with anyone who wanted to come. Her pegasi kept to the formations they used during those days, running in blocks of four and singing cadence as she had instructed. It was a surprisingly effective way to maintain good breathing while fighting the boredom of the otherwise menial activity.

It helped that many of her ponies were already veterans, so a little militaristic training did not frighten them.

The sun was well and truly rising by the time they were lining up in the windows of the second floor—or at least her bravest ponies were.

Lonely Day stepped up onto the edge, facing the eight ponies brave enough to attempt the jump. Nancy was at the very front of the line.

"This exercise is meant to train your native magic," she explained, loud enough that those watching on the ground floor would still hear her. "The instincts to use it are as natural as flight is for a baby bird. Spread your wings before you jump, let the feathers catch the air. Let it fill your wings, lift you, carry you forward. It's just like the gliding we did from five feet... it's only the stakes that are higher."

"How would you know what it feels like?" somepony asked, near the end of the line. "You don't have feathers."

"Oh, I used to. Until I forgot to preen them, and they all fell out." Muffled laughter echoed from around her—none of it very enthusiastic. These ponies were far too afraid to laugh just now.

"I'm going to demonstrate for you all." Alex turned away, pulling her tail close instinctively. "My wings are a little different, but the basic principle is the same. After I go, wait until I'm on the ground and I can offer advice to the next in line.

"I can't catch you. If you're even a little nervous about this jump after our lower glides, you don't have to go."

None of the ponies retreated. Alex edged to the drop—a single story wasn't much to a human, but it was twice that far to a pony. Not that it should be a big deal. Pegasi fall soft. Even if someone does screw up, they should be okay unless they hit their head.

"President!" The voice was distant, but bat pony ears were sensitive. She felt them pivot slightly, pointing off into the field. Past it, rather, where one of the structures that surrounded their complex had always been collapsed.

She saw the torchlight next, flickers of red firelight bobbing in unicorn magic. "What is it?" she shouted, adjusting her voice so it would carry.

"The deer! She went down... looks bad!"

"Nancy, get my medical bag." She pointed, and the filly took off at a run.

Nancy still might be too shy to talk when anyone else was around, but that didn't mean she was stupid. A few seconds later, and she was already back, offering it up by the strap.

"Practice is canceled," Alex barked at the waiting ponies, slinging the medkit over her neck. The weight threw off her balance for a few moments, enough that she had to hesitate to center herself again. "Don't do the jump without me here."

Lonely Day turned away from the crowd and jumped out into the void. Her wings caught the air just as she had explained, a lightness that embraced and surrounded her and ripped away Earth's surly bonds.

For a few moments, Lonely Day flew. The pale orange of morning was more than enough light to guide her as she passed over the heads of the crowd beneath, heading straight for the shouts.

Was someone else flying beside her? No... Day looked, but nopony had followed. There was no one there.

Day had been watching and reading about and listening to stories of flight for centuries. With the urgency of an injured pony to guide her, she was able to hold herself in the air, soaring over their growing fields and orchard until she could make out the morning search party.

All four of them were there, gathered around Stride's fallen form. The deer was twisted into a pained stance, striking out at anypony who got too close. From the look of it, they had used a makeshift stretcher made of cloth to drag her here.

Alex landed on the ground perhaps a dozen paces away, her wings folding instinctively as she made her way up to the struggling deer. "What happened?"

Robert was on shift lead. His former timidity had been replaced with confidence and pride in his work—he knew the city better than anyone now, and no one was better at keeping a patrol safe. "Mountain Lion. We ran... Stride tripped, went down. I think one of her legs is broken." He looked battered, along with the other ponies on the crew. Their weapons were wet with blood.

The deer screamed loudly in her native Dutch, voice thick with pain. "You should've left me! Earth below, the pain goes on forever! At least a swift death would've served the tribe!"

With a gesture, Alex scattered the ponies who had been trying to hold the struggling deer down. She began thrashing wildly again, wild enough that she very well might hurt herself. "Be quiet!" Archive shouted, forcefully enough that the deer froze in her twitching. Her Dutch was as skillful as ever. "Thank you." She unzipped the medkit, advancing slowly on her.

"How did you trip?" she asked, even as she dug around in the medkit for painkillers. They had used the last of everything stronger than aspirin. "Someone get me a stick for her to bite."

"Demon magic!" the deer shouted through her agony. "Nothing there, I swear it! Fawns wouldn't trip on such an easy slope. Something grabbed me. Wanted me to die!"

"It won't be getting its way," Alex said, very calmly. "This is a very clean break. Painful, but... easy to set."

"They will!" Stride argued. "Kin with three legs is doomed to a swift death. Can't walk, can't run... burden to the tribe. At least if you leave me for the predators, their hunger will be sated."

The patrol team only stared at the two of them, uncomprehending. No one in the Association could speak Dutch.

"Brought a stick," someone offered, dropping it on the ground beside her.

"Good. Get me several more about this thick, strip off all the leaves and side-branches. I'll have to make a splint."

She looked back to the deer, lowering her head beside Stride's. "Listen to me. You will walk again. With unicorn magic, I will have you on your hooves in a week, understand me?"

The deer nodded, though there was only disbelief on her face. "Even the Mother has not given such a gift."

"The mother..." Alex frowned. "Cares about species, not individuals." She offered the stick. "Bite down on this. I have to set the bone, and it's going to hurt worse than when it broke."

Stride took the stick in her mouth, eyes widening. "There's medicine to make it hurt less, but we ran out. I have to do it without. I'm going to use the ponies to hold you down. Please don't fight—it will be much easier to heal you that way."

Stride nodded.

Archive rose to her hooves. "Robert, hold her there! Kelly, there. She's probably going to kick like crazy when I do this—don't let her hit me in the face."

It took well over an hour to get the limb properly immobilized, twice as long as Oliver might've taken for the same job. In the end, they had to carry Stride back home on a stretcher.

"Well done, Robert," Alex said, patting him on the shoulder. "What happened to the lion?"

"Dead." His eyes were dark, a little unfocused. "I've never... never felt anything like it. Its claws didn't even scratch me."

Alex tugged him towards the field, out of earshot of the rest of the patrol. They continued up the stairs with Stride's stretcher, leaving them behind.

"You've used earth pony magic before though, haven't you? What made this time different?"

"I..." He hesitated. "More of it. I think there was more of it. Lion was twice my size, and way faster than me. Got its teeth around my throat at one point... didn't work."

"Lots of ponies don't understand how magic works," Archive explained, her voice still low. "They think that it's just down to the patterns, the techniques. Repeat them correctly, and you get the correct result.

"It isn't like that." Alex forced him to meet her eyes. "In Equestria, they have a princess whose whole job is to help ponies with their friendships. They have another one who does the same thing with love.

"Doing things for the ponies you care about is going to give you far more magic than doing them for yourself."

Robert laughed weakly. "That explains you, then. You don't do anything for yourself."

She didn't laugh. "More true than you know." She turned away. "Good work, Robert. If we had medals, I'd give you one."

"How about an extra helping of wheat with dinner?"

She laughed then. "I think we can manage that."

* * *

Archive took the seventy steps of deeper slumber and into the enchanted forest, prepared for another long search. She wasn't looking for Isaac this time, though she was quite certain she would be able to find him. Rather, she had a library to find.

She passed through the forest at a gallop, ignoring the inquisitive zoogs and their strange calls, the cats as they sometimes gave chase, or the calls of strange dream-birds. She ignored all of it, focusing instead on her destination. She didn't know why she hadn't returned to the library in her dreams—she feared it had been destroyed.

No, I gave Mercy every tool she could need. If anypony could keep the library together, it was her. One dark thought clouded her dream as she galloped through dreamland countryside: if Mercy had succeeded, why hadn't any of the old people come back with her book?

“I have been waiting for you, Archive.” She heard the voice before she saw where it was coming from—a large cloud passing over the countryside, dark and full of storms. Alex stopped running. There was nothing around her, nothing but the pleasant farms of old dreams and old dreamers. She wondered how many other dreamers would hear the voice of this creature—there could be no doubt in her mind about its identity. Archive never forgot a voice.

"I would've happily consented to a conversation," she muttered, eyes on the ground all around her. There was no water near her, which was the only way this monster could manifest in person in the Phenomenal world. But in the dreamlands, that rule didn't apply. "Shouldn't have had your cultists kill me."

The storm cloud seemed to be bearing down on her. It was so distant—miles, at the scale of the waking world. Even so, there was no doubting the speaker could hear her. "Salazar suffers still for her defiance, you may be assured. She is less grateful for the gift of deathless years than she anticipated. I have been saving the privilege of killing her for your return."

Archive shivered involuntarily. The cloud only seemed to get larger as it dropped down towards her, and the outermost wisps of fluffy white resolved into lengths of dark, writhing tentacles. Something terrible was hiding in that cloud, and it was getting very close. But what would be the point of attacking me here? The worst it could do is wake me up. That wasn't quite true, though the power for anything else without also claiming her body would be enormous. "How long have you been waiting for me?"

"Long enough that the time for you to renew our bargain has come and gone," the voice said, though it did not sound particularly happy. "I do not blame you, but the consequences were severe and the losses pointless. We have much to gain through cooperation."

Archive felt her whole body tighten, preparing the magic she might need. Out in the dreamlands proper, he might very well try and attack her. She didn't intend to be caught unaware. "You could start by being honest with me," she grunted. "I'm in the ruins of a human city. There shouldn't be anything less but hills of rubble covered in foliage and concealing the hardiest metals, after that long. As we speak, my body sleeps in a building built from human bricks. If you wanted to lie to me, you could be less obvious."

"Always the voice of her species," Charybdis mocked. "So human, to learn one truth and think you've mastered the universe. Perhaps I gave Salazar too much pain—she may have done you a mercy by keeping your name from the Supernal." A gust of wind dismissed the cloud, revealing the horror underneath. It was no creature she had ever seen—like the corpse of a blue-whale animated by a giant squid, which wore the carcass like a suit and thrashed about with five-hundred meter tentacles.

Archive reacted instinctively, feeling the invisible cords of her strength and summoning magic from them all. It was a little like earth pony magic, though it had no direction—whatever it was about the belief of humans and ponies, it knew no distance. Thestral magic let her change outside her own dream, so change she did. She grew taller even as she lost her fur, confident and adult and powerful in her visage. Her armor was a little different this time—instead of chainmail, she wore some kind of lightweight jumpsuit, sturdy boots, along with a single compact piece of technology secured to the small of her back. She could feel the faint hum of energy coursing through it, as it cycled between magical and electrical charge thousands of times a second.

That wasn't the only change. Her left arm, instead of a steel shield painted with her cutie mark, had a long bit of dark composite and metal mounted to it, which seemed to hum with a similar energy. Her spellbook was different too, replaced by a fist-sized lump of transparent pink crystal, wrapped with wire and covered with runes. The hell is all this? She didn't exclaim, but she did look around in obvious confusion, trying to get a good look at herself. The jumpsuit wasn't just tough, but seemed to integrate all sorts of machinery into the back, whose purposes she could only guess at. She could see openings near the neck, which she guessed to be some sort of air-circulator.

"I know you change with the ages, Archive. Do not think it will change the nature of our conversation." The monstrous, rotting corpse seemed to reach into unseen folds with its tentacles, flinging meaty chunks of slime to the ground in front of her. It only took them moments to land—not missed attacks, but a half-dozen vaguely humanoid figures.

Monstrosity failed to describe them. The grass under their feet rotted and died from their mere presence, taller and thinner than any human, with slimey limbs but none of the placidness of the first generation. She hoped their ability to move in the dreamlands was a reflection of their will, not some new ability. God help us if these things start walking around.

Archive raised her free hand in front of her chest, tensing as though it was protected by a real shield. The air distorted in front of her, shimmering into glittering light. A shield appeared from nothing—made from hardened light, like a unicorn's, though it was about the same shape as a metal shield would've been.

The creatures began circling out around her, shambling awkwardly with each step. None seemed armed, though each had sharp teeth, dead eyes, and a hunger on their faces. "The Skein is mine, Archive. You are no longer permitted beyond the boundaries of your own sleep. My children will see you return there safely, and keep you company on all your endless nights to come."

Their strategy was obvious then—flanking, moving to grapple her and overwhelm her with numbers. Her right hand tightened on the crystal in its pouch, but it didn't seem to do anything. The hell is my spellbook? Archive had relied on that manifestation of her magic to cast spells in the dreamlands—it would take great practice to prepare her mind to perform magic in other ways.

Nothing she could manage during a fight, anyway. Of course, she still had her thestral magic...

Archive called upon a weapon she knew would be familiar, forcing it to manifest in her right hand despite the enormous cost in energy. The blade might only be nine inches long, but the metal shimmered faintly on one side, like a rainbow, and the edge was so sharp it hurt to see. "You waste your time, demon," she said, dropping into a low stance, calling upon her memory of one of ancient Earth's now-dead superpowers. Archive had never actually experienced the insanely rigorous training of those soldiers, but she could feel their memories guiding her arms. "The Skein is a place of knowledge, and I have the knowledge of a species. You can't make edicts and expect to enforce them with figments and monsters."

She was panting from the magical cost of what she had just called, but tried not to let it show. Charybdis was, on some level, just another predator. It could not be reasoned with, but it could be manipulated. She spun the knife with a flourish, letting it ride over the flat of her hand, without letting either of its impossibly-sharp sides slice her. If it did, she would bleed forever.

"All the knowledge of doomed slaves will not protect you, Archive. I will be obeyed." As one, the monstrous forms closed in around her, slashing with barbed tentacles and gnashing their unnatural teeth and screeching shrilly as they went.

Archive selected her first target, and charged straight for its head. She leapt, slamming her shield into its unnatural face before rolling off of it, leaving a gushing, severed head behind. Its brother turned smoothly to lash out at her, but the tentacle stuck on something inches above her skin, and the barbs didn't even touch her suit. Even so she jerked, and had to lash out with another blow from her knife.

It passed through tough flesh as though it were air, trailing acidic blood through the air that steamed as it touched grass. "Toxic atmosphere detected: Pressure seal engaged." A bubble flickered into being around her head, faintly shimmering and protecting her from the cloud. The purpose of the tubes—and the utter lack of openings in the suit now made perfect sense. Archive wasn't just wearing armor, she was wearing a spacesuit!

There were still so many, and Alex had only one knife. She had cleared the circle, but four of them were still following. One threw itself bodily at her, a homicidal missile aimed with deadly accuracy.

Alex was too slow to dodge, but she wasn't too slow to catch the creature on her knife and cut its chest open, even as it drove her to the ground. She shrugged the corpse off even as the remaining three monsters came running at her at the same time. She rolled out of the way of one, but another came down right on her, driving her violently into the ground. She felt something break, and the air was driven from her lungs. It didn't actually seem to touch her though, only the air right above her.

That didn't mean it couldn't pressure her bodily into the ground. She kicked uselessly against it, even as one of the other two started pulling at her legs. A third appeared to be wrenching up a boulder larger than she was. They intended to crush her.

Her arms were pinned, but she had a memory for that. A quick jerk up into the soft tissue where the tentacle-legs met loosened the grip enough to free one of her arms, even as the world was dragged along behind her.

"Warning. Shield matrix failing. Integrity at 10%" The alarms blared in her armor, screaming in protest as she was dragged bumping along the ground over to the monster struggling with a boulder.

But by then, she had freed her arm. She hadn't ever dropped her knife, and she brought it up now, slashing violently across the monster pressed up against her and leaving it in two halves. Some of its tentacles kept struggling around her, even when the rest of it had fallen away.

She was still off-balance, dragged along as she was by both legs. She tried kicking, but by then the tentacles were wrapped so securely around her legs that they wouldn't budge. She couldn't sit up, not with as fast as they were moving forward.

Archive flicked her knife right into the head of the monster dragging her. Its tentacles slackened, and she rolled again, out of the way of the massive boulder. It shattered as it struck the ground where she had been moments before.

"I told you!" she screamed, though her voice echoed only around her own head in the invisible air-shield. Her knife had been shattered by the boulder, but that didn't matter much. She scrambled to her feet.

The monster seemed undeterred by the corpses of its fellows, pressing forward towards her with lashing tentacles. Her hands searched desperately for a weapon, but all she could find was the crystal wrapped in wire. She gripped it in gloved fingers, searching for any sign of how to use it.

User Honored Memory appears to be in danger. May I be of assistance? The thought came unprompted, echoing in her mind in a voice completely not her own. It lacked gender, age, or emotion, save perhaps that the speaker sounded a little smug.

"Yes please!" she shouted as she backed up. "Can I have my spellbook back?"

Link with Universal Compiler is stable. Dreamlands energy multiplier of 10,000EU is in effect.

"Fantastic!" she squeaked, backing up from the last of the creatures. She could summon all kinds of dream-weapons, if only she could get together enough concentration. But having a horrible monster bearing down on her, venom dripping from an octopus-like beak... "I want, uh... a Lunar Targeted Force Shunt! 20,000 Newtons!"

Target assumed from local observation. The monster exploded in a shower of slime and misshapen bones, spraying away from her in an even arc. Its acid blood seared the hills bare as it touched, filling the air with more of that awful stink.

Archive didn't feel the draining magic she was used to, which should've dropped her to her knees after such an expensive spell. All she felt was the rush of adrenaline at a fight won. That could've been won way easier if I had my spellbook back.

"I told you, bastard." She reached out with one hand, brushing the slime away that was clinging to her invisible shield. "It wasn't going to work."

Charybdis was gone. No more rotting creatures flew in the sky, though far in the distance there was a massive, dead shape, a hulk she could almost smell through the protection of her shield. Nor was that the only creature she saw. A pony had joined her, standing tall and confident only a few feet away.

It was an ordinary bat pony, with brown mane and a gray coat. She did have a top hat, along with a cutie mark depicting the nine of spades. The mark belonged to a pony Alex thought was long dead.

"I'm sorry for stealing your kill, but he made a bold claim back there. Someone had to show him the dreamlands don’t work that way."

Alex couldn't ever forget a face, anymore than she could forget anything else. It didn't matter that she had only met this pony once, after an attempted robbery on Alexandria's library only a few years after the Event. It didn't matter that this pony ought to have been long dead—her memory didn't care. Refugees were hard to forget, especially those special few that had crossed the threshold from one world into another, long ago.

"You're brave to take a risk like that," she said, looking down at the pony. She was a little taller than an average pony, though other than that there was very little to set her apart. "Sunset once mentioned that skilled bat ponies sometimes escaped into the Skein when they died. She also told me that if they ever died here, they'd be gone forever." Her voice was muffled from within the atmospheric shield, like someone was holding a blanket over her face. "You didn't have to fight him for me."

"I've been waiting for you for a looooong time."

"Waiting to tell me what the hell happened to the planet? I had half-expected the HPI to be living on only in the history books when Salazar stabbed me in the fucking back..." She shook her head, as though shaking away an angry insect. Her gesture had an unintended side-effect, though.

"No atmospheric contamination detected, seal disengaged." The faint shimmer around her face vanished, and with it the distortion in her voice. Alex looked around, worried for a moment that the suit might be wrong, but the clouds of acid were all gone. Either this pony had banished them with her dream-magic, or they had blown away in some Skein wind.

"Though... if you've been in here... God, who knows how long... you probably don't actually know anything useful, do you? That'd be just typical."

"The topic of the HPI is a weak spot for me. What else do you want to know?”

"How long has this religion been sacrificing humans?" she asked. "When I died, the world I left was..." She shrugged. "Recovering. Lots of cities had electrical grids, indoor plumbing. We had the trains running all over the old US. We had radio, explosives, firearms, industrial chemistry." A few images appeared in the air in front of her, flashing very briefly. Images of Salt Lick City, a primitive medieval hovel. "What the hell happened?"

"Not a bad starting point," Artifice said as she removed her hat and pulled a small blue gem out of it. Both it and her eyes glowed for a few silent moments before she replaced it and her hat. "Sometime after you died a magical plague hit. That's what wiped the floor with the settlements. People started to get desperate, and then the morons started to blame refugees for the plague. Some really bad timing made it so the plague started to burn itself out after they started the religion-based stupidity. I think you can figure out the rest from there. Fear does things to people."

Archive nodded. The bat hadn't confirmed the year for her, but that wasn't even the first thing she worried about anymore. A magical plague—serious enough that civilization itself hadn't survived. Serious enough that human sacrifice had been seen as the only solution. She would have to face the weight of that, at some point. Could I have done something about it if I hadn't been killed? Now she would never know.

"I need to find Athena," she said. "Do you know if there are any dreamers who could pass a message for me? I found one of my... one of my human friends, but he didn't believe who I was. Is there someone cooperative I could talk to?"

"I can't really say I know anyone cooperative. Even when we were looking for you after you disappeared no one wanted to give really solid help. Even that changeling kid of yours doesn't like to talk with me in the dreamscape. Have to use messengers. Talk about annoying."

Alex just stared. "Wait... wait a minute. Ezri was a drone. Drones don't even make it to a century. She was half-dead when that bitch Salazar got me. You keep using present tense. Is she... Did Jackie bring her to the dreamscape, when she died? Thought I taught her better than that..."

Artifice laughed. "Doing 'this' takes great resolve. Her and the bat didn’t want my help. Anytime I try to help one of your people it turns into a massive waste of my time."

"Then don't," Archive muttered, drawing her crystal into one hand. "That's been the story of human civilization since the beginning, anyway." She brushed a little of the collected slime and blood from the crystal with one finger. "My daughter will help me. I just have to find her." She focused on the crystal. "User Honored Memory requires a tracking spell. Target: changeling drone named Ezri."

Search terms insufficiently rigorous. Please provide tissue sample or valued possession for tracking.

"Worth a shot."

"Wow, just don't help you huh? Sounds like a poor way to make friends," Artifice said. "Look, I told Ezri I would find you one day. Give me your message and I will be out of your mane."

Alex would have to word it very carefully, so the identity of the sender would be immediately clear. "Tell her I'm alive and in New York City. I have to follow the refugees, I think she'd recognize that. Don't dress it up, either... delivering facts in plain English is the surest way to show her the message didn't come from you."

"Thanks, now I will leave you to do... whatever it was that you were doing just wandering the dreamscape." Artifice gave a small bow, and started to walk off in a seemingly random direction. "Try to be less angry when they get back to you."

"It's not my daughter I'm upset with.”