Slouching Towards Canterlot

by EbonQuill

Our Motto

Spiros had been around for a while. Some unicorn with more brains than sense took what genetic material they could find of the changelings’ old hives and started cloning them. Then, later, improving on them with chrome and wire marinated in a technomantic broth of unicorn magic and Earth pony ingenuity.

The genegineers had worked out how to make them adaptable to any situation, while removing their ability to shapeshift. All that memetic magic instead went to making them accept the cyberware implants necessary to fulfill their duties. This had the unintended side effect of slowing their emotional development.

The plan had been to find a way to get necessary pony labor for tasks ponies couldn’t or shouldn’t do. They’d begun construction on the lunar colonies. They'd started to explore the nearby planetary bodies. The earliest models had plumbed the depths of the ocean to build the underwater domecities before they were exiled Off-World. They could take pressures up to several hundred atmospheres, or none at all. They could lift more, move faster, and go longer than any other ponies, except maybe the Princess.

Sweet Sun knew what she was capable of, given the right set of circumstances.

Spiros were forbidden from stepping onto Equestrian soil after a series of incidents. One of the tamer ones involved a spiro in a salt saloon in Appleloosa. He got involved in a fight with several stallions of the local rail company some years back. The spiro was the only one who walked away from it. The others had been given early retirement, since they’d never be able to drag the loads required of them again.

Spiros didn’t care who they hurt, They survived and endured.

After all, that’s what SparkleTech programmed them to do, survive at all costs.

After the ban, CrystalCorp teamed up with F&F Industries to create some darn near perfect wards against spiro infiltration that left most of Equestria defended. On the few occasions where a hoofful found their way past the wards, we took advantage of their muted emotional ability, and identified them with things designed to provoke a response.

Tell somepony to imagine getting a kitten for Hearth’s Warming. Allow them to name it, ask them what it looks like. What its purrs sound like. What its coat smells like. What games it likes to play. Really get them to see that kitten.

Then have them imagine it getting struck in traffic.

Glitterponies are trained to read the smallest emotions to find those who don’t have them, and dispatch them. We called this the empathy test. If there's nopony else around, we called them “friendship problems.”

We didn’t do this out of spite, we did this to protect Equestria. They were too wild for civilization for the most part. Too quick to escalate problems, not quick enough to understand things like humor or sarcasm.

And this one had broken into a secure nursery.

She’d swept off the elevator, shaking a weak neurotoxin off her coat. When it hit the air, it whipped the other ponies into a frenzy. She’d moved through them like they weren’t there, and that’s all anypony could be sure about.

Most of the affected had recovered by the time we’d shown up, but one older stallion had to be taken off to the psych wing. Bad reaction to terror and the neurological agent. When I had tried to interview him, all he’d do is scream:

“The blood-dimmed tide is loosed! The ceremony of innocence is drowned! She comes again! Beware, she comes again!”

So he’d lost it, and we were left holding the bag.

Nothing new there.

My report to the BAS regarding the spirotech underlined the significant amount of mnemonic energy running through the cables. Whatever was happening to Nurse Redfern involved her memories. What a spiro would want with those was beyond me, but it bothered me the more I thought about it.

I was in my skywagon, flitting through the cloudlanes of Las Pegasus towards the six towers of SparkleTech. I ran through the evidence from the top. I didn't have much.

A spiro had assaulted a hospital, and then vanished with nineteen foals.

This would have been bad enough, all those missing kids, but with a spiro….

I shook myself. ‘No point plowing with nothing to plant,’ as Ma used to say. I had the coils, the poem, and the reaction of those ponies affected. I had her method of approach, but nothing about how she'd gotten out with those poor—

With her cargo.

What did she want with them? Spiros usually only cared about their own survival. They pursued it with a passion usually reserved for a pony’s special talent.

Which they didn't have. Having a lifespan of no more than sixteen seasons saw to that. In their place, most spiros had their primary protocol imprinted on their flanks.

I always got itchy near ponies who covered their cutie marks. Side effect of the job, I suppose.

The skywagon started its descent, and I flipped open my kit. I pulled up my contact at SparkleTech, and dialed him. He was a researcher into artificial intelligence by the name of Silver Strand.

I can’t express how disconcerting it is to speak with a unicorn bearing a cutie mark of a brain made out of wires.

“Hello? Dr. Strand’s office.” His lab tech again. She was nice enough, but it meant he wasn’t taking calls.

“This is Bon Chance, GP61661. I'm calling for Silver Strand.”

The voice on the other end sounded strained, like I’d caught her doing something embarrassing. “Oh, the glitterpony. Yes, of course. Hold for Miss Glimmer’s office.”

I froze getting out of the skywagon, and fell back on my haunches. What did the Chief Innovation Officer have to do with a foalnapping?

Before I could even begin running that thought to ground, a silky mare’s voice that would have turned me to butter had I swung that way came on the line.

“This is Skysign Glimmer. You must be the detective assigned to the Celestia Memorial break-in.”

While I’d never actually met her, I knew of Skysign. She had a reputation for being both a decent manager for the researchers beneath her, and ruthlessly cutthroat in the boardroom. Persistent rumor had that she was on the fast track to replace the Princess if she were to step down. Although those who whispered this never had an answer for why the nigh-immortal Princess of Friendship would leave the corporation she’d built from the ground up.

Turning the state of friendship in Equestria over in my mind, I thought of a couple compelling ones.

“Yeah, this is Bon Chance, GP—”

“Yes, yes, I know. You're penciled in for a brief chat. Come on down, the tea’s just coming out of the kettle.”

Two things were clear. One, she wasn't happy that her "filly fatale" routine had fallen flat. Two, they'd been waiting for me to call and likely knew I was already here.

Neither one particularly enthused me.

The elevator ride down the four floors to Miss Glimmer's office was brightened by the presence of an orange and red firebird with a cloak of flame across her wings. She buzzed me a few times as I put my glasses and earblooms on, and began streaming straight to my storage back at the station.

The elevator doors opened with the tinkling of an invisible bell. The room within was truly colossal, with almost the entire floor taken up by a series of concentric engraved circles with hundreds of tiny sigils dancing between them. A massive window stretched across one entire wall, displaying the lights of Las Pegasus at night. After a moment, it flickered to display the spires of Canterlot under a noonday sun. A flicker later, and I was overlooking a SparkleTech development campus somewhere in the hills.

I knew about as much magical theory as I did about firebirds, but I could tell the spells all around me were powerful. The taste of ozone hung heavily in the air, making my head swim.

The firebird plucked my hat off my mane, and winged its way over to a perch near a long table. A teapot sat nearby, steam spinning out of the spout. The bird rested my hat on its perch, gripped the handle of the kettle in her talons and gingerly poured a cup. The faint scent of jasmine and ginseng wafted over as I trotted up.

I tried not to think about how empty everything was. How loudly my hooves were echoing off the polished ebony marble floor.

The firebird trilled at me as I approached. She fanned her wings over the cup. It was just cool enough to sip when I arrived, so I did.

I'd never seen a firebird up close before. I'd heard that they were mostly extinct, since the last Yakyani conflict froze most of their homeland under windigo ice. She was beautiful, as elegant perched as she was in flight. Every movement sent ripples of flame across her feathers.

“Do you like our phoenix?” The silken voice of Skysign Glimmer echoed in the cavernous room. Her ivory coat and ice blue mane almost shimmered in the long shadows. A petite set of pince-nez rested daintily on her muzzle.

“Is she artificial?” I asked before I could stop myself. Owning endangered species outside of designated zones was illegal. Sentient ones doubly so.

I'd defaulted to ‘Cop’ when I needed to be reaching for ‘Diplomat’.

She smirked, folding her glasses into her magic and tucking them into her seafoam green dress. “Of course it is.”

“Must be expensive,” I muttered, embarrassed at my slip.

“Very.” She slid onto a velveteen bench, and tucked her legs underneath her. She wrapped the teacup in her magic, and sipped some. “I'm Skysign.”

“Chance.” I took a swallow.

She set her teacup down on the onyx table with a clink. “It seems you feel our work is not a benefit to the public.”

I almost choked on my tea. It took me a moment to recover, but I'd formulated an appropriately diplomatic response, “Magitech is like anything else. It’s either a boon or a liability.” I set my teacup down as well, and flipped my mane back. “If it's a boon, it’s not my problem.”

Her faint smile grew a little, and she took another sip.

I didn't. ‘Only foals slip twice when they've seen the ice,’ like Ma used to say.

She met my gaze, and shifted in her seat. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she was scrutinizing my face.

I returned the gaze, watching her react to whatever it was she saw in me.

“Have you ever dispatched a pony by mistake?”

Despite my desire to stay in the game, I felt my hackles rise. I swallowed against my rising anger. “No.”

“But in your position, that is a risk—?”

“Is this your idea of an empathy test?”

Somewhere in the thick shadows, a door boomed shut. Long, powerful strides echoed as a tall lavender alicorn crossed the room, her mane ablaze with pinks, indigos, and violets drifting in an illusory breeze. Her clear, strong voice cut through Skysign’s gambit, and scattered my building rage like embers on a breeze.

The Princess of Friendship’s horn flared, projecting an illusion of my face moments ago. As she mentioned each result, they were highlighted and displayed for study.

“Capillary dilation of the blush response. Ears fixed and forward. Involuntary flaring of her nostrils.”

Skysign blushed under the glow of the Princess’s horn, and squirmed. The Princess’s gaze didn't waver.

“What are you doing, Skysign? Why are you infuriating our guest?”

Skysign looked about ready to bolt. “Oh, uh, Princess! Spike said you were—”

Princess Sparkle tossed her flowing mane. “We’ll discuss this breach of protocol later.”

Skysign nodded, and kept her gaze downcast. “Yes, miss.”

The Princess rolled her eyes, and turned to face me.

Suddenly I understood Skysign’s reaction. She was… tall. Her mane…

“Greetings, Miss Chance! My name is Twi—”

“—Twilight Sparkle, yes. Uh. Princess.”

She snorted, a little miffed. Her mane expanded outwards, spiralling into stars and nebulae. “Why doesn’t anypony let me finish my introductions? Maybe I should do the whole ‘royal procession’ thing, then I’d at least get a word in.”

I scooted back a bit, which got her attention. I cursed myself for not being more careful.

“Oh, don’t! No! Don’t be like that! I, uh, look, I need you to listen!”

I blinked, a little surprised.

“We’re here to talk experimental models, and a herd of missing foals. You don’t have time to cower in awe. Move past it.”

I choked down my first few simpering responses and tried to wear the old ‘jaded glitterpony’ mask. It didn’t quite fit.

“I really like your mane. And your uh, phoenix. She’s pretty.”

I was as smooth as a gravel slidewalk.

“Who? Oh. Phaedra! Bring Miss Chance her hat, please?”

The bird flared to life, and plopped my hat on my head. As I adjusted it to sit securely on my mane, I felt a bit of the old me returning.

The Princess smiled a little. I think she could tell what I was feeling. Somehow, it was less intimidating than it had been.

We got to work.

Comments

[Dafaddah]

I wonder, do equoids dream of technomantic sheep?

[Sun Sage]

Hmm... so Yeats and Blade Runner, eh? ...Or did Blade Runner also quote Yeats; I can't remember. Either way, good choices and the rest of this really sets a strong mood. I love the dichotomy Twilight seems to be ponifying here.

[nemryn]

Huh. Well, the tonal shift from "direct quote of Blade Runner" to "Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Awkwardness" was... jarring. If that was intentional, then good job, you got me.