• Published 18th Mar 2017
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Steel Solstice - Starscribe



Sunset Shimmer travels to Earth in search of allies for Equestria. The world she finds there is hardly the one she expected.

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Chapter 2: Integration Parameters

Sunset did not dream, not exactly. What Sunset did see she had great difficulty even classifying into the world she knew. It wasn’t a dream, and yet she wasn’t quite awake. Something moved around her in an indeterminate gray space without end or beginning.

Could this be the Void Starswirl had spoken of in his treatise on the intersection of related worlds? She couldn’t ask any of the natives, because she couldn’t ever see them. Perception would come as a general sense of observation, but by the time she could focus on anything she saw, it would pass.

It seemed like something was always watching her. She found herself remembering ancient things. Studying in Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorn’s. Attracting Celestia’s personal attention for her advanced skill with teleportation at a young age. Eventually being lifted from all her classes to study under the Alicorn’s private instruction. She remembered all of that, and couldn’t have said why. It was like her life was a series of scrolls being opened and read over and over by someone who didn’t speak Equestrian. As though the feelings she remembered about each memory might serve as a guide.

Then the world came back. The change happened so abruptly that Sunset almost wasn’t sure she’d ever been asleep in the first place. One minute she was floating on her back in a sea of silver glass, the next—she was on a bed of soft cloth, resting under bright glowing bars on the ceiling that produced a harsh white glow without any warmth.

“You’re very lucky to be alive,” a voice spoke without emotion, at least none she was familiar with. It also wasn’t speaking any language she’d ever heard before.

Even as Sunset’s brain rejected the sounds, she found unfamiliar patterns there, waiting for her use. Though her memories contained nothing about these words, she found she understood immediately. A language spell unlike any she had known before. A language spell that granted understanding without familiarity, the exact opposite of the magic she knew.

She blinked, and found every trace of pain was gone from her body. Of course, every trace of her body as she knew it was also gone. Except for the bright red and yellow mane around her head, hanging on either side of her face.

Her familiar muzzle was gone, her yellow coat was gone, replaced with something pale and soft.

She sat up at once, and found like the language the motion came with instinct that she had never learned. The wall in front of her was made entirely of mirror, reflecting herself and the room she was sitting in.

Even without magic, she could’ve identified the space as a hospital room. Only one bed, plenty of machines along the walls, and a small window on the other side presently shut. There was a little bedside table, a few simple flowers and get-well-soon cards, everything she’d expect from a space like this. There were two aliens in the room.

First was the nurse, who looked down at her with a placid, vacant expression. She matched Clover’s description of the aliens—furless, hornless, wingless, hoofless. She wore white clothing all over her body, and where there wasn’t an easily-recognizable nurse’s uniform she had skin like a shaved pony or an animal. The nurse had her own mane of brown fur, tied up and covered by a cap with a single red mark in the center.

Meeting one of the Builders was everything Sunset could’ve hoped for. She was about to say so, until she saw her own reflection.

The reflection couldn’t be anyone else. Not with Sunset’s bright yellow and red mane, not her shocked expression or her bright green eyes. She reached up, touching the strangely flat face with feeling appendages like paws but longer and softer. She was assaulted with a wave of sensory information no hoof could’ve prepared her for—the entire surface of these organs was covered with richly sensing skin. She could feel the curve of her own face, the strange soft texture, everything.

Sunset herself was not wearing the white uniform like a nurse, but a strange open-backed gown made of papery fabric that rubbed uncomfortably on her skin. It seemed almost her whole body had skin, but not all of it was created equal.

“You made me one of you,” Sunset said. “Why?” Her tone was not accusatory, only shocked.

A deeper part of herself thrilled in the strange feelings. Celestia rejected me, but the people greater than Alicorns didn’t. A species who unified their world in harmony found me worthy of joining them without even speaking to me.

She would look forward very much to writing that letter home.

The nurse’s eyes remained as vacant as they had before, her tone equally flat. She reached over to the door, pulling a clipboard from a hook there, and turning it over so she could read. “Welcome to the Infinite Realm, citizen of the Steel Tower. We regret the suffering you experienced as part of your transition. I am Rosa Garcia, a fork of our Central Coordinator.

“I am happy to inform you that you have reached the end of all unwilling suffering. You will not labor, unless you choose to do so. You will not feel pain, unless you choose to do so. You will not be trapped by the confines of physical reality, unless you choose to do so.”

“What are you—” Her own voice sounded strange to her ears. A little lower than she was used to, though still distinctly female and with the same musical undertones. Either the Builders sounded like ponies, or they had managed to preserve those traits in their transformation.

The nurse seemed almost not to hear her. She continued with the speech. She wasn’t actually reading from the clipboard, just holding it in front of her like she was trying to make Sunset think she was. “It is standard procedure to place all new emigrants in a reality less than one standard deviation from the meat you left behind.

“Your next few weeks will consist of a rudimentary instruction and evaluation period, at the end of which you will be granted full digital citizenship and freedom to move through the Infinite Realm as you see fit.”

“I don’t think you—” Again the nurse refused to stop her speech. Sunset gave up interrupting her. Maybe she can’t hear me. It’s possible she isn’t even here.

“Take as long as you need to recover in this room. The interface there can provide you with any necessities you require.” The nurse pointed at a large piece of glass set into the wall beside the bed, as though it were some kind of tool. “Local time has been adjusted to permit a near-infinite recovery period for your transition into digital existence. The average emigrant spends three weeks recovering before they proceed to their evaluation.”

The nurse reached out, handing Sunset the clipboard. On it was something that looked remarkably like a birth certificate, printed in fancy paper with swirling designs on either side. “You were not carrying any identification when you were recovered by a border protection team. As such, you could not automatically be issued digital certificates. Please provide your designation as honestly and comprehensively as possible for demographic purposes.

“Tower law requires that even citizens of the United Earth Federation will be granted full citizenship, on condition of their honesty and forthrightness with His Majesty’s representatives.”

“So I, uh…” The language printed on the page in her hands was just as strange as the one the nurse was speaking. The one she was using, though she’d never known it. The written form was just as easy to read, and made her just as uncomfortable in doing so. Sunset took the quill hanging from the clipboard in her fingers, searching for an inkwell. There was none, which she took to mean it didn’t need one. Sure enough, it wrote in a thick dark line that didn’t smudge or bleed with minimal effort.

Sunset wrote her full name on the given line. There were a few more fields—nation of origin, age, sex, etc. She wrote, and found her new spindly digits writing in the same language the paper was written in. Not a syllabary like Equestrian, but an alphabet, with lots of lines and loops and circles. She knew each letter, though she’d never seen them before and couldn’t have provided their names or sounds. Builders have strange magic.

Strange magic she could learn, even if Celestia wouldn’t teach her anything that was important. No age, no work, no pain. See if I even want to be an Alicorn when I’m done learning here.

Sunset handed the clipboard back. “Like this?”

The nurse took it, and the object vanished. No flash of magic, no glow from a horn (she didn’t have one). The clipboard just stopped being there. There was a brief pause. “Some of your answers could not be corroborated. Please confirm your nation of Origin as EQUESTRIA.

“That’s right,” she said. “You already knew that, right? Does your world have ponies of its own?” If that were true, it might explain why the Builders were taking this whole thing so casually. She had expected something a little more formal than a hospital bed, after being the first visitor from another universe since Clover the Clever. Unless the Builders are so powerful and connected that Equestria is just one of many places they visit. Stupid, stupid, why didn’t I think of that? This ‘King Richard’ might have friends in a thousand different universes! I need to stop making assumptions.

The nurse never seemed to actually look at Sunset. She looked in her direction, sure, but her eyes continued to feel vacant. She’d called herself a fork, a concept Sunset didn’t know. She knew the language, but the thought didn’t map to anything in her own mind. Her understanding of the concept was empty. “An administrator has been notified about your situation, citizen Sunset Shimmer. You have been granted permission to proceed with your recovery and evaluation period in accordance with Tower law. Upon graduation, your case will be personally evaluated by a supervising Technocrat of at least second order. We thank you for your patience while your case is evaluated.”

“Sure, no problem. Do you think I could talk to this King Ri—” The nurse vanished as abruptly as the clipboard had. There was no flash of light, no air. No feeling of magic as Sunset knew it.

She’d just assumed her horn was still there on her head, and there hadn’t been anything to sense. Yet as she reached up to where the phantom appendage should’ve been, her hand felt only bare skin and soft hair.

She was alone, alone without her magic or any of her possessions. Her saddlebags weren’t on the bedside table, and neither were any of her scrolls. All the magic she’d prepared to help make this mission a success. Without her horn, she couldn’t replace any of the magic they’d taken from her. Maybe I don’t need to. The Builders seem to get by. That nurse acted like she wasn’t even awake, but she could still teleport like an Alicorn. Not even a breeze…

Sunset slumped back into bed, shivering at the feeling of rough sheets on her sensitive skin. At least it wasn’t cold. Dragons and other creatures without fur seemed like they should be cold all the time, but she didn’t feel it. They would just heat the hospital, obviously.

Sunset eventually rose from her bed. She didn’t try to walk on four limbs, not after what she’d seen from the nurse. Her body knew how to stand without falling over. For a complete shift in physical construction, she found the change came easily. So long as she didn’t move too fast, she could walk over to the window with ease.

Just outside was everything Clover the Clever had described. A living city, with buildings made from glass and metal that towered higher than Canterlot’s mountain and castle combined. Carts flew through the air without ponies to pull them, and thousands of Builders walked about the streets in their abundance of clothing.

There was only one thing missing from Clover’s account, something she hadn’t seen on the nurse and couldn’t see on herself either. Clover the Clever had described these beings as a kind of living golem, immortal constructs with openings for various purposes on their wrists and backs. She removed the awful papery dress from her own body and searched in the reflection, but saw no openings there that she wouldn’t expect from any other living creature. She couldn’t find any of the detachable sections Clover had mentioned, and her body felt warm to the touch. There was nothing at all to suggest she wasn’t, in fact, still a living creature.

There was one small comfort to this strange body she’d been given. Removing all her clothing proved that she had retained her cutie mark, plastered onto either side of her body in the place she assumed was the flank. Even still it wasn’t fur, but seemed somehow below her skin.

I guess I still have some magic left. If only I could figure out how to use it. Sunset wouldn’t let herself worry about that, not now. The Builders did not let such petty concerns drag them down. If she wanted to master their power, she would have to learn their ways.

An education and evaluation period sounded exactly like what Sunset needed. A chance to learn their ways, to prove her own abilities and show them as she had shown Celestia that she was worthy of instruction.

So once I leave, the evaluation period beings. She looked at the door, considering just walking straight out. But the nurse said that ponies spend weeks in here. I need clothes, too… Builders always wear clothes.

Sunset walked up to the “interface” the nurse had described, which looked like a window pane that didn’t actually lead anywhere. Yet when she approached it, a light came on behind it, as though dawning over an unfamiliar landscape. In that light, a number of shapes appeared. Buttons. Each one was labeled in the language of the builders. “Object Catalog,” said one. “Quarters reassignment,” read another. A dozen different options, many of which Sunset couldn’t understand.

She chose the first from the list. The window filled with images—like a mail-order catalog she might’ve seen in Equestria, sorted by category. Sunset chose “Clothing—Informal”, and image after image filled the screen. Images of her, already wearing clothing of innumerable styles and seemingly infinite variations. Most covered far more of her body than she was used to in Equestria, while others seemed only to pretend to try and cover anything.

It makes sense that a species without fur would need to wear more to protect themselves. But why bother covering a few parts to your body like this? She couldn’t even imagine the kind of magic it would take to make a book rewrite itself depending on the pony reading it. That was the only explanation she could think of for such complete illusions, each of which depicted her.

Something else was missing from the catalog, something that would’ve been present anywhere in Equestria: prices. None had a number of bits next to it, or any number at all. I guess that makes sense. A society that has advanced to total harmony just shares everything with everypony all the time.

It made her feel a tad guilty to be taking advantage of their kindness. She would have to find a way to repay these Builders. A way that would not sacrifice Equestria’s interests. At least I can see why the ponies in Clover’s vision were so eager to become like them. No need to work, being able to decide what to do and how long to live. Paradise.

Making sense of all the different styles and colors of Builder clothing was beyond her. In the end, Sunset chose a simple outfit, one that covered more of her body instead of less. Blue denim pants, black boots and a top of loose blue fabric. A black jacket she could use in the cold or remove as the situation required. Sturdy boots in matching fabric that would serve in even rugged conditions.

Almost every outfit the “interface” suggested to her covered up her cutie mark, but Sunset soon discovered that wouldn’t matter. She could add designs of her own, drawing right onto the screen with her serpentine digits. She drew a stylized version of her own mark, and added it in matching colors to her clothes.

How long would it take a tailor to sew the outfits she’d requested? No sooner had she pressed “submit request” than a metal chute on the far end of the room rumbled. The whole outfit was already sitting there, wrapped in a thin film like paper she could easily tear with her hands.

It took well over an hour to figure out what all the outfit’s little pieces were for. Another hour to put them on, and twice that long to decide on what she would do with her mane. At least the Builders had provided a sink.

It was dark outside her window by the time Sunset Shimmer had finished. She stood confidently in front of the tall mirror, admiring the change. Yes, the body she saw reflected there had thin limbs, strangely elongated paws instead of hooves, and no horn. Yet, despite all of that, she could still see herself in the glass. The Builders had not taken anything from her she needed.

Was the nurse honest with me? Do people who emigrate to their world spend weeks in this tiny room? She wouldn’t, in any case. It didn’t matter that she was still figuring out the whole “walking” thing. She could learn that as she learned everything else. Sunset would confront these Builders, find their king, and learn their secrets.

Celestia could go to the moon for all she cared.

Sunset strode confidently to the door, then stepped through.