Heretic
If they could exploit her, then she wasn't a monster...
Cerea had never really become accustomed to one rather frequent human belief: the one which said she had to be stupid. There were times when she could see it lurking about the corners of their eyes, the collective delusion just about had its own olfactory signature, and some of them saved her the trouble of trying to work that part out by just saying it. Given how often the delusion manifested, it could be argued that she was at least used to hearing the words -- but they never failed to rankle her. Especially when they were coming from a species whose average intelligence usually worked out to 'Maybe.'
She did recognize a few of the sources for that delusion. Part of her body matched that of an animal: apparently that was supposed to have a draining effect. Something about neural activity running down her upper back, into the lower, and presumably out the tail. Cerea was perfectly capable of nickering, and could easily manage a neigh. Newborns did it all the time, and a truly frustrated adult might add such vocal touches. The exchange students did their best to avoid that kind of expression, lest anyone believe they had suddenly lost all capacity for (mimicking) speech.
Additionally, she had been locked away in a gap for just about all of her lifetime, so how could she have any understanding of how the modern world worked? And for that, she had to acknowledge a few actual issues. On the programming level, Cerea didn't fully recognize how a smartphone operated. She would readily admit that whenever a human brought up the technology issue and, just when they were settling into their triumph, would politely ask them to explain the matter. The majority of them could give some details on activating the touchscreen and, when pressed on how their body's electrostatic charge allowed them to do that, began to falter. A number could explain binary, at least in that there were ones and zeroes involved. Somehow. And far too many felt that certain levels of broadcast signal caused cancer. Or controlled minds. Occasionally both.
The gap had brought in books, as many as it could. The girl understood something about physics, chemistry, and biology: she was a student. Centaurs (and the other hidden species) had done their best to keep up with what the humans were doing, because there was a chance to see it used against them. Cerea didn't understand how the most advanced technology worked, not on the deepest levels -- and in that, she matched just about every human in Japan. She didn't have to be capable of constructing a logic gate in order to operate a smartphone: she just had to be willing to read the manual and compared to the humans, when it came to that simple bit of research, she was ahead.
And then you had the snickering belief which said that in order to calculate the intelligence of a female, you measured the overbust and subtracted the results from one hundred. It was cruel, it put even the smallest women (who were frequently the ones invoking it) into the realm of those who wouldn't have been able to do the math, using the English measurement system didn't improve matters much and when it came to metric, Cerea had wound up in negative integers, steadily moving deeper into the depths of the imaginary. When it came to that particular measurement of IQ, the only thing she would have been capable of was death because at that level, she would have been quite literally too stupid to breathe. The resulting math also didn't seem to send her all the way around the curve and render her into a supergenius, but she was confident of at least being more intelligent than those who kept trying to make the non-jest work.
And yet, so many of the humans had felt she had to be stupid. (She had thought that in Japan, the use of archaic, overly-formal terms would counter some of them, because you had to research those. She'd been wrong.) Several had tried to take advantage, especially when they knew she couldn't strike back...
With those at Fancypants' party -- they knew that in the event of an attack, she was allowed to retaliate and for that alone, there was an argument for this world to be the better one. And a number of attendees had just watched her both dictate and explain the rules for multiple strategy games: this seemed to potentially suggest she wasn't entirely stupid.
(She also understood more about some aspects of metallurgy than the locals, but she wasn't allowed to talk about that. And while she was still trying to figure out how this world's magic worked, all indications had her as the regional expert on the ritual version -- mostly because she hadn't seen any. As with the humans, Cerea was still trying to figure out how they were all getting along so well without it.)
So they needed another way to think of her and after a few minutes, several guests had come up with the same one.
It was possible to watch each of them trying to work up the courage it took to approach her. The majority were dressed and for the mares, that meant she had to interpret the weakness of the knees through the vibrations of the dress: with the stallions, each leg could sometimes be caught shaking in turn. A number stumbled over their first words or, if the disc was translating properly, simply got stuck on stuttering the same letter six times. Two of them visibly decided that they hadn't consumed quite enough alcohol for this and went back to get more.
But for those who did reach her...
"But just think about the benefits! Once you sign over the rights to your likeness, we'll be able to effectively put you in the film! -- no, of course we don't need you as a consultant. I'm sure you're much too busy at the palace and besides, we've already got a script. There's no need to use a second writer. It's bad enough having to pay one -- anyway, don't you see that having it as a horror movie is the real benefit? We make you as terrifying as possible and then if anypony who saw the film meets you, there's simply no way you could ever be that bad! -- no, don't look at the contract, a signature will be enough -- and incidentally, if you happened to find two adolescents on a date where they were, shall we say, nuzzling in a way which their parents didn't intend, what's your go-to attack? No, this doesn't count as consulting. I'm just making conversation and anyway, a consultant would have to be paid. Are you going to sign that?"
"Oh, I've just heard so much about this place you're from! It's in all of the papers, you know. I've done my best to keep up, and I'd like to consider myself an expert. But there's so many articles, it's just hard to keep all of the facts straight! And since you're here... oh, I know! Why don't you just start telling me all about your homeland, and I'll just tell you which things you have right?"
"The Lunar shift, is it? You're lucky, you know. There aren't a lot of sapients who get the chance to interact with Princess Luna on a nightly basis. To the average pony on -- or over -- the street, she's still something of a mystery. Especially since the average pony is out and about under Sun. But for those in the palace, who get to see so much more of her... forgive me my curiosity, but... does she ever talk about... the thing? ...yes, I know I'm sweating. It's a little hot in here. Somepony really needs to tweak the weave in this room. So. The... thing. Which happened... that one time... oh, they just make everypony -- everyone sign those confidentiality agreements to scare them. I'm sure it would never hold up in court. We were talking about... the thing..."
("The thing" came up three times. Nopony ever managed to narrow the massive category down before dehydration began to set in.)
It took something of an effort to see her as stupid, and that was an effort which a few were still willing to make. Cerea got to overhear two such false observations: both parties felt she had simply been parroting the rules for some of the palace's private entertainments, and one determined that he could declare that in public because he knew the disc only worked on anything which was directly said to the centaur. But for the rest...
She wasn't stupid. But she was still something new, trying to adjust. The assumption was that she didn't comprehend how anything about the new society worked and as long as that held true, then she was simply naive.
(She'd missed one of the fundamentals.)
If she was naive, then she could be exploited. And if she could be exploited, then she wasn't a monster.
She understood how Fancypants had meant it. Cerea just wasn't sure that when it came to her status in the world, a change to 'victim' represented an improvement.
The girl tried to circulate. But she usually wound up doing so on her own. Fancypants had to greet certain guests as they arrived, make the rounds of the party and see that everyone was comfortable. As he'd warned her, there was no way for him to be at her side in every moment. It left her trying to circulate, and... she didn't really understand how parties worked. Most of the ones she'd attended had been in the household, and the basic goal there was to try and keep the walls intact: they usually failed.
In the gap... stallions had their own ways of partying, and a sane mare avoided all of them unless there was a need to either end the affair or get in some serious baton practice: the two purposes were usually able to double up. Mares gathered in quiet groups to discuss the state of the gap: fun was no part of that, with both joy and fillies left outside the door. And for those of her own age... it had been understood that she could get into most things simply based on who her mother was and because that had been the only reason, she hadn't.
When it came to circulation, Cerea spent most of the party feeling like an aortic clog.
She was too big. There were multiple species in the modified sitting room, and none of them approached her size. Those who wouldn't come up to her still had to indulge in some effort to get around her, and more than a few were willing to put in the work.
It was hard for her to find good viewing angles. Even in Japan, most of the adult population had been within forty centimeters of her height: everyone at the party was shorter than that. A significant portion of her time was spent with her barrel and belly against the floor, trying to make it easier. She was getting worried about what the friction was doing to the securing fabric strips. And wherever she stopped, everything seemed to stop around her. Guests seemed to be a little less nervous about approaching a lowered, immobile centaur -- except for her left flank. There was usually a visible amount of open space radiating out from that part of her body, because that was where the sword was.
She readily identified pockets of guests which served as rocks in the party's shifting tide, unmoved by almost anything around them. They remained together in carefully-isolated groups, speaking only with each other. Some of them would glance out from time to time, trying to discover just where she was and, if necessary, moving the entire knot sideways. Cerea caught repeated sight of a face from the briefing book: the speckled white stood out in the crowd, as did the suit which wasn't managing to hide the bulges of a rather overweight body. He was one of those who seemed to be on the active lookout for her, and whenever their eyes made contact...
Cerea saw his lips move a few times, doing so in utter silence. It put her in mind of a performer rehearsing his lines.
She seldom got more than a glimpse of the canid. Even in the olfactory world, it was hard to track her companion for the evening: there were well over a hundred guests of multiple species, added to staff and host and a ventilation system which seemed to work at least partially by magic. It left the currents twisting around each other in unfamiliar patterns, and a centaur still wasn't a bloodhound.
Yapper moved on her own, and often did so rather quickly. ('Scurried' felt both vaguely derogatory and distressingly fair.) But on the whole, she seemed to be circulating more freely than Cerea. The Diamond Dog was taller than the ponies, but she took up considerably less space, could slip through narrow gaps, and appeared to have a habit of abandoning groups without pause or anything in the way of either excuse or apology. When Yapper was done with a discussion, she was done: anyone who wanted to continue talking about the matter was free to extend the debate with a pocket of quickly-collapsing social vacuum.
But Yapper was being approached. She was a guest, Fancypants had a way of casually strolling past anyone who seemed to be avoiding her, it served as a herding method, and... even for those who might have seen her as a monster, the canid was both the lesser horror in the room and the familiar one. Something they told themselves was understood, and if an attendee couldn't get within speaking range of a centaur, then that was just because there was somepony there already. Surely having a talk -- a careful, slow, extremely dumbed-down talk -- with a Diamond Dog would readily prove their courage!
Cerea seldom saw Yapper during the party, not for more than a glimpse. It was rather easier to hear her.
"-- of course Yapper has been in bedroom! Have to be very careful, entering Princess Luna's bedroom. Doors squeak a little. Not many ponies know that. Prisoners chained to ceiling over her bed also squeak. Didn't think ponies could squeak. Chains just that tight. After Yapper finishes adjusting them. Plus funnels also have to be twisted. Every night." Irritably, "Stupid prisoners, always twisting in the chains. Making them loose and pushing funnels out of line. What good is prisoner sweat dripping down in wrong place?"
"You..." There was a swallowing sound. Then there was a second version, which had considerably more trouble in forcing a greater mass down or rather, down again. "...you can't possibly be serious --"
"Serious as palace hire contract," the canid solemnly declared. "Especially part about confidentiality. Pony know how contract work? Punishment enforced on one who listens. Big bedroom. Room for extra chains. But Yapper sure nopony ever find out you know. From anypony here."
Just barely audible, especially with most of the syllables feeling as if they'd just burbled up through thick liquid, "...you're not a pony..."
"Details." A white pseudohand casually swatted the concept away. "Want to know about bath?"
Desperately, "...you're making this up... I know you're making this up..."
"She's a Dog," one of the mares rather poorly whispered. "She can't be smart enough to lie like this..."
"Most ponies want to know about bath," Yapper casually stated. "Ponies asking Yapper to break confidentiality should know about bath. Bath is where the blood goes."
Fancypants had multiple jobs at the party. One of them was announcing important arrivals. And when it came to words which could get Cerea's attention...
"So it's usually best to turn the doubling cube when you're sure you're ahead," she told the pegasus mare. "And can stay that way. Remember, it increases the points scored for the other player as well. So one bad run of luck --"
"-- and I've just dropped behind by that much more," the mare groaned. "I wish I'd thought about that fourteen minutes ago." A frustrated wing flared out towards the room's far right corner, which was now occupied by hastily-duplicated paper sheets, wood chips marked with ink, and an increasingly-audible debate regarding strategies: several griffons stood close by, visibly taking mental notes. (She'd noticed that the group tended to move as a flock. Or possibly a pride. She didn't know how to ask for the right term.) No one in that section seemed to be particularly interested in leaving, and they had all decided that as names went, 'board game of surrounding' (which was what they'd all heard when Cerea had said 'Go') was too generic, and Centaur Capture just stood out.
Cerea was still trying to figure out how she felt about that, especially since her first reaction had been so crude as to mandate instant dismissal. Besides, when it came to revenge, an introduction to dice-based property management seemed best reserved for somepony she loathed.
"And you can't turn it back to a lower face?" the burgundy pegasus sighed. "Ever?"
"Not until the points goal is reached," Cerea repeated. "I'm sorry --"
"Ambassador Torque Power of Mazein!" readily carried across the room. Fancypants had a special skill with that, too. "And guest!"
Yes!
Her head turned so fast as to nearly give herself whiplash, shortened hair sliced through the air --
-- minotaur. A nicely-cut black jacket, with plenty of room for the biceps. The tie still looked somewhat stupid. But she didn't see anyone next to him --
-- it took a moment before Cerea looked down. The pleasantly-trim seagreen earth pony mare at the ambassador's side was caught looking back at her, and winced accordingly.
...merde.
The big bull looked out across the crowd. It only took him a moment to spot Cerea, and then he knelt down next to his companion. Said a few quiet words, stood up again, carefully picked out a path through smaller forms...
The centaur wasn't quite done with the rulebook by the time he caught up, and the minotaur waited patiently. Watched the pegasus leave, and then gestured Cerea towards one of the open private alcoves near the edge. A region hidden partially in shadows.
She got back to her hooves, carefully followed in his wake. (She could clear a path just by existing, but his method triggered less fear.)
He stepped into the shaded alcove, leaned his back against the warm wood of the wall. Cerea followed him in, tried to orient her lower body to place the majority of it within concealment. There didn't seem to be anything she could do about her tail.
There were other guests nearby. Then there weren't.
"Wanted to check on you," Torque brusquely stated. "Figured it was starting to feel like a long night." With a snort, "Took us nearly forty minutes to get in here. I don't use air carriages much and with Fancypants, I like to take the walk. It's a nice neighborhood, as long as you keep most of your appreciation on the architecture. Figured the protestors would let us get up to the gate and shield without a problem. But there's more than I expected out there, even in the cold." With a small shrug, "The most ornery. And some of them decided it would be fun to get in the way, because they also think a minotaur who has to get past a pony is always going to be in the wrong."
"I'm sorry --" arose from the level of instinct.
"Pretty sure you didn't ask them to come," the ambassador decided: this was followed by a rather casual shrug. "Not my first party. The Princesses like to get all of the ambassadors together. Once every couple of years if it's quiet, or if more than a third of the envoys turn over. That band over there? It's the one which usually plays these events, because they've got more than one species in the group and they'll handle music from everywhere."
The shudder looked strange, coming from such a large body.
"Even buffalo territory," he reluctantly finished.
"Buffalo," Cerea carefully repeated.
"It wears on you after a while," the minotaur told her. "In this case, 'a while' is about ten minutes. My first posting was to the Territory. Three standard beats, no waiting. The wedding is the fourth. And ambassadors get invited to a lot of weddings." This shudder was stronger. "Good people. Lousy music. But -- sorry I'm late. I wanted to get some time with you. Guess this is it."
Sparring partners and spies --
His knees bent again. The broad back slowly slid down the wall, until calm yellow eyes were level with her own.
"How are you holding up?" Torque asked, and waited.
The scents of pony fear drifted into the alcove, mixed and mutated.
"'tis... something of a trial," she reluctantly admitted. "To be under so many eyes, to be watched. Some cloak themselves in bravery, but --"
The chuckle was unexpected.
"Not gonna tell you how that came across to these ears." Both of them wriggled. "Old Form ain't used much. Vocabulary's a little too limited. It was mostly for passing the word, in a way no one else could pick up on."
He looked out through the shadows, at the crowd. Searched for a moment, and then stopped with his gaze resting on elevated white fur and fringed ears.
"For a given value," he softly said, "of 'no one'."
The clenching of the big hands was almost audible. She could swear she heard muscles swelling under the jacket --
"Ambassador?"
Slowly, the fingers relaxed. Fell limp.
"Long time ago," the minotaur softly said, still not quite looking at Cerea. "She wasn't any part of it. The way I'm trying to see it -- the dactyly species need to stick together. There ain't that many of us. But -- usually don't get anywhere near this close to a Dog. And that's the other reason I came tonight. To go up to her, and change that. It's overdue. So..." He turned back, and it was easy to identify the grin. "...thanks for bringing her. Seriously."
"You brought a pony."
It had more or less slipped out.
Another shrug -- but something in his eyes had clouded.
"Widower."
A single word. Calm. Practiced. Most of the edges had worn away through the lathe of time, and yet she watched the last one cut him.
"I'm sorry --"
"-- it's been a while," he softly added. "But still not long enough. She's with the Ancestors, and I can't get into those parties yet. So I come with an escort, or a friend. Lets everyone know where my heart is." With no more than an extra decibel or two, "I know a party like this is hard. Speak straight this time, as much as you can: how are you holding up?"
The blue eyes closed.
She was already tired, even as a supposed Lunar so close to the start of her shift. For what she said next, it might have been an excuse.
"I keep waiting for something to go wrong."
"Bearers stayed home."
"...sorry?"
She heard him shrug: it was an audible shift of fabric. "Private joke. Any reason?"
"I -- did something like this, once before," Cerea quietly stated. "Or what was intended to be something like this. An introduction, and then a party. It --"
they're pounding on the door
"-- didn't work." Her tail twisted, tucked itself closer to her lower body. "We never reached the party."
"We," emerged as something cool and neutral.
"My mother," Cerea clarified. "A few others."
"Father?" was a casual inquiry.
there was no way for him to have known her name
"Just mares." It was an effort to keep her hooves flat against the carpet. "The people introducing us thought that would make a better first impression. And it was a public introduction, because everyone thought it had to be. But there were protestors. That was..." She forced the breath. "...expected. Just -- not so many. They outnumbered the ones who were there to protect us, and..."
Her head dipped: something she was just barely aware of. Most of her attention was focused on the way her right hand had just clamped down on the sword's hilt.
Gently, "Anyone get hurt?"
Some of them trampled each other in the rush to reach us. Then they hired lawyers, and tried to sue the herd for... inciting their reaction.
I only found out about that when I reached Japan. My mother hid that from me.
My mother hid a lot of things.
"A few," she made herself answer. "It just..."
Her ears twisted. Went backwards.
"...I can hear them outside," Cerea softly told him. "When someone goes to the patio. The shields distort sound a little, I think. But they don't stop it. I didn't see them from the carriage, because all of the windows were covered. So I don't know how many there are. I just hear them, and... you had to come in through that. I'm sorry --"
"-- is this part of centaur culture?" the ambassador evenly asked. "Taking responsibility for what everyone else does?"
We're supposed to be teachers. Guides. Partners. So when it comes to the humans... yes, a little. If you give someone a lesson, you hold responsibility for how they utilize it. But no one had the chance to do that for a very long time.
He doesn't know what the household was like. How much damage the other girls could do, without even noticing. Someone had to be responsible, and it wasn't going to be anyone else. Someone had to be the adult --
-- I know I'm not responsible for my being here.
I've been looking for summoners all night.
I keep waiting for somepony to ask me if they can have a moment alone, away from the main party. Go into a room off a hallway somewhere, and... that's their chance.
And I would think about going with them, even when I can't snap my fingers to signal anypony. Because the sword can do something, and...
...maybe I could capture one.
Maybe they know how to send me back.
I'm not responsible for my being here.
A meteor crashes into the world. The meteor wasn't responsible. It didn't choose its trajectory. It couldn't.
But the impact still cracks tectonic plates. Giant clouds of debris go into the sky and don't come down. Sunlight is blocked. Plants die. Animals follow.
The meteor didn't intend that. But it's still an impact.
Extinction doesn't care.
"Someone has to be."
He was quiet for a few seconds.
"If it's too much," Torque offered, "I can tell Fancypants. He'll get you back to the palace."
Which left Yapper alone --
-- actually, Yapper could probably handle herself. It just reflected badly on their host. On the palace. On everypony who'd tried to get her this far.
This was her post.
"I will stay."
He looked her over, up and down. No significant pause was taken at her breasts, and she irritably wondered if there was any appropriate way to ask a male of the species about typical female endowments.
"Get back out there when you're ready," he suggested. "Come over to me if you need a minute."
It was a kindness. She knew that. She wanted to welcome it.
But then she had to go back out there...
At one point, she took the disc off.
It was during a quiet moment, at least for when it came to attendees interacting with her. Some had approached, and... it was starting to feel as if she'd seen all of the ones who were willing to make the attempt. Most of the rest were keeping their distance and, if she started to come near them, did their best to make that distance a constant.
Fancypants was occupied. Yapper was out of sight. Cerea didn't see anyone she knew (and she just barely knew anyone), she was near a far wall, well away from band and refreshments and roving servants. No one was trying to speak with her: outside of getting pulled into another game rules resolution, she wasn't sure anyone else would even try. She was alone at the edge of a crowd, and... she took the disc off.
There was a sense of relief as the wires began to part from her skin, something which twinned oddly with the surge of anxiety. Comprehension could feel like its own burden, and yet she'd just shed the only means she had of knowing what others were saying about her --
-- but she wanted to hear the reality. Not what the disc told her, but what actually was.
Cerea risked closing her eyes, as the last of the wire came away. Listened...
Griffon beaks clack.
She can hear a little of that when the disc is active, but -- it's something which almost gets forced into the background, buried under the weight of offered words. Subtract the magic, and the faster sentences take on aspects of gunfire. The girl is almost sure that the clacking is more than just the mouth opening and closing. It feels like part of the language: perhaps something used for accenting syllables, or in place of a sound which a limited tongue and inflexible edges will not permit to exist. This is added to wafts of birdsong and the occasional mew.
All around her, there are neighs and whinnies and nickers: with the majority of the party being populated by ponies, those sounds are the dominant ones. Sometimes a hoof will stomp for emphasis. The band has been politely applauded a few times: that comes in the form of a rapid foreleg patter. And there's a squeal in the room, because ponies do squeal at each other. In the girl's world, it usually indicates irritation, which makes the gaming tables a natural emanation point. But her horses will also scream, and... there's a sound which arises from the deepest of distress and pain, something like a trumpet which has learned to roar. None of that horror is in the room right now, but... she knows the ponies can make that sound. She heard it after she vaulted the bushes. Over and over.
The yaks grunt. Some of those sounds are deeper than others, a few are quick, and there's a definite meter to it all. But it's grunting. In some ways, they're famed for it: turn to Latin and the species name translates to 'grunting ox'. A donkey listens to all of it, then brays back.
Can she find the ambassador? Yes. Her ears twist, and -- it's an odd sound. She'd expected lowing, and there's at least an undercurrent of that. But there's something else mixed in. A bit of chuff, hints of carefully-muted roar. At one point, there's something like a normal syllable: 'kiy'. Flexible lips, a well-honed throat. She wonders if he's capable of learning to say her name...
Listen. The minotaur lows, and the canid barks back. Nearby, a pony is snorting. She hasn't seen any buffalo at the party, and wonders if they would add bellows to the mix.
Neighs and lows and barks and nickers and grunts and mews. All of it representing the sounds of intelligence. And the band plays on, because music remains music. Everywhere.
It makes her think about the strangeness of it. Just to be on the outskirts of this gathering. But... is it any stranger than an assemblage of liminals? And even now, it still feels as if there's nothing odder than the variety to be found among the humans, simply because they insist that the smallest cosmetic differences create irreconcilable separation. That one species is a dozen or more, and need to stay that way.
Humans, brought together in bulk, are sort of stupid.
But this is still strange. And she wonders, just for a moment, what her mother would think. To see the daughter as part of this kind of gathering --
-- but she has the answer for that.
Her mother would be disappointed.
The girl's eyes open. The disc goes back on. She has heard. Now she has to understand.
And the first words she hears...
"-- and if I simply had the chance to speak with her," proclaimed a blast of purest Ego, "I know she would understand! Clearly none of you have truly thought about the benefits!" With clear self-amusement, because the stallion had already decided that somepony had to be amused and he was obviously the only one capable of appreciating the complexity of his own jokes, "Perhaps if I go over it just one more time. For those in the group who might be a little, shall we say, slow to catch on?"
The unicorn was a sort of greyish-purple, with the type of mane which traveled down the back of his neck in a series of waves. None of the swoops and curves ever quite crashed into each other. It was his voice which did that. Even with the disc in action, syllables seemed to pile on top of each other, attempting to accumulate authority through frantic weight.
It was the sort of voice you got from those humans who'd decided that an expensive car effectively substituted for looks, personality and, for the worst of them, bathing. Given that automobiles didn't exist in this world, Cerea wasn't sure what the stallion had been using for his own substitute. Perhaps it was the tiny glasses perched (somehow) on his snout. At least Fancypants' monocle was sized in a way which let it do something. The lenses on the stallion's glasses were so small as to provide no clear view of anything. He certainly didn't seem to recognize the way in which the other five in his reluctant group were reacting to his words.
Those ponies were trying to shift away from him. He just kept moving forward, not letting them gain a centimeter. And around them, griffons and yaks and a lot of bemused ponies listened in.
"An extra hour, that's all it is!" he grandly stated. "Even with the Weather Bureau doing what their complaints department keeps insisting is their best, there are days when my poor fur practically bakes in the summer! And why does that happen, I ask you?"
"Because," an earth pony mare proposed, "you send two letters a week, Jet Set. And they're a little sick of it, so the area around your house wound up designated as a thermal dump zone --"
"-- Sun!" the stallion automatically ignored her. "We bake under summer Sun, because it just hangs around in the sky all day! So why can't the Princesses do something about that?"
...and he's about to invent Daylight Savings Time, Cerea darkly thought. France had it: Japan didn't. Her host country had never been so foolish as to believe it could control the clock.
"And winter days? Too short, not enough Sun! And why does Moon need to be raised so early?" He reared up, briefly spread his forehoofs in a gesture of authoritative stupidity before crashing back down. "So the solution is clear!"
She was almost used to the way in which ponies talked about their planet's star and natural satellite. Giving a formal name to a celestial body was an expected part of just about any culture, and she supposed the disc just translated those terms back to what she knew. The audible capitals became a remnant. In that sense, the only unusual part was the way they discussed the movements --
"-- so in summer," Jet Set happily went on, "we make the Princess raise Sun an hour later. One less hour of heat! And in winter, an hour earlier. Is that really so much to ask? And of course, Princess Luna adjusts Moon accordingly. That's balance!"
...what?
"And how about the other side of the planet?" another stallion challenged. "How do you think they're going to feel about it?"
"Who cares?" Jet Set sniffed. A rather dismissive forehoof took the trouble to wave. "It's our Sun, isn't it? And our Moon. They should just be glad to get anything."
"Everyone's Sun," a nearby yak immediately declared. "Part of agreement. Equestria just controls. Sun and Moon are gifts for world --"
The full nature of his audience didn't quite dawn on the stallion, possibly because he was still trying to schedule dawn and light never managed to fully break through the clouds around his brain.
"So they also make them move a little faster once they reach you," he decided. "Or slower, I suppose. Whichever one is required. I'm sure they know. Which means nopony of intelligence ever needs to."
There seemed to be a certain amount of fireworks going off in Cerea's brain. She distantly wondered what the exact mix formulas for the powders had been.
...he's talking about --
-- they're just accepting it, the request is the crazy part, but the rest of it is being treated as if it's --
She was barely aware of her hooves beginning to shift. Four long legs slowly moved forward.
"I'm trying to figure out," the earth pony mare sarcastically announced, "if this is actually stupider than your anti-Tirek plan. Of course, in order to know that, we'd finally need to hear your anti-Tirek plan --"
The girl carefully worked her way through the crowd. The knot she needed was about twenty meters ahead. Eighteen...
"-- I had to stay, in order to enact it!" Jet Set declared. "It hardly would have worked if I'd evacuated, now would it? How can a plan be brought forth without its creator?"
"In the same way you can't evacuate," a donkey announced, "if you can't remember the route --"
Her head was spinning. She wanted to bring her hands up, press them against her temples. Make sure nothing actually came off. A centaur dullahan would just look stupid. Headless Horse-Woman.
"But of course, the point became moot," the unicorn stallion shrugged. "Which means that in the name of national security, I have to withhold my plan from the public eye. In case it's ever needed again." His voice dropped. "Since we do have another centaur."
Twelve meters. She now had a good view of his tail, as he was facing away from her. Many of those who had been looking at him with visible disgust were now beginning to raise their sight lines.
"And some of you are frightened," Jet Set saw fit to declare. "When there's clearly no need to be, not when there's already a plan in place! Bearers?" His voice dropped into the half-whisper of somepony who was expressing a confidence, at least as applied to total confidence in his own opinion. "Completely overrated. I've seen a few and believe me, if they ever have to save the world from their own manners, we are doomed. We don't really need them at all! Not when we have my plan to fall back on!"
Six meters. Assorted sapients were moving out of her way, and rather quickly.
"And it's not as if centaurs are even scary --"
The path had been cleared. He was the only one talking, and the band seemed to have been caught between performances. For all intents and purposes, there might have been one set of hooffalls in the huge room, and they just happened to be the heaviest ones.
Jet Set stopped breathing.
The last air in his lungs offered up "-- she's behind me, isn't she?"
Multiple sapients rather peacefully nodded.
A select and suddenly-mobile part of the world blurred, propelled by the blast of a punctured Ego. And then Jet Set was gone.
Everyone exhaled.
"He actually topped himself," the earth pony mare decided. "Or bottomed out." Darkly, "It's hard to tell, because he does seem to keep digging. Sun and Moon, now he wants to kick them both off-course and schedule because he can't be bothered to wear a back canopy --"
The air shifted a little. She could scent Fancypants now: the tinge of blood helped in sorting him out. The noble was potentially on the approach, and -- it didn't seem to matter.
Nightwatch in the forest.
"Sun-lowering."
The only part of that which they see as being unreasonable was the demand...
"Excuse me."
She barely heard her own voice, wondered just how weak it had been. But perhaps the disc compensated for that too.
Multiple heads looked further up. The earth pony mare winced.
"We can explain about Jet Set," she began. "It won't take long. I'm guessing you'll understand the word 'moron' --"
Her words felt hollow. So did her throat. Her heart.
"-- Princess Celestia raises the sun?"
They all looked at her.
"Is the translator running low on charge?" a scholarly-seeming unicorn asked. "It does have to manage a lot of voices tonight. Even with the platinum --"
"-- and Princess Luna," her inner echo pushed on, "raises the moon?"
The looks had become stares.
"There's something wrong," the unicorn decided. "It shouldn't be adding a definite article."
"...that's not possible," the girl heard herself say. "It isn't..."
And the scent of fear surged, as they all pulled back from her, every last one pulling back --
The earth pony mare was staring at her now. Staring with something very close to terror.
"That's how things are," that pony stated. "Our Lady Of The Day tells Sun to grant us just enough heat for life to go on. And too much of that would kill, so -- the Mare Of Dream makes sure Moon brings relief."
this
this is
this can't
The fear surged one more time, and a trembling mare forced violet eyes to focus on blue.
"Don't you know that?"
The girl didn't seem to have an answer. And they were pulling away, all of them. She couldn't even hear the sounds of arguments from the gaming area any more.
But there was one more question from the mare. The sort of thing which arose when you knew the sky was blue, and had just been told that someone saw it as black every day.
"How do you think it works?"
By the time Fancypants reached her, a girl who had been effectively forced into astronomy studies as a cultural habit was fully engaged in a dizzying explanation of orbital mechanics. There were numerous hand gestures involved, she kept looking for anything spherical she could demonstrate with and some unicorns who would be willing to get it all going, and the disc was hissing its way through anything associated with Kepler. She'd gone over elliptical orbits, was about two minutes away from trying to explain a Lagrange Point, and had already passed through Ptolemy at speed, apologizing all the way because any centaur could have straightened him out in a minute.
'Dizzying' was the correct word for her display. The entire audience was reeling. Wings had sagged at the joints. Tails of every description had sought refuge between their owners' back legs, and the majority of ears were pressed flat against skulls.
"-- and then you have to consider mass!" the girl desperately insisted. "The Sergeant taught me about unicorn magic! Even at the top of the scale --"
"-- Lady Cerea?"
She looked down. The noble stared up, and the side which had to focus through the monocle showed magnified concern.
"Have you eaten?" Fancypants carefully asked. "I needed to ask, because I haven't seen you near a tray all night. I did ask the palace kitchens about your diet. Perhaps a bit of nourishment?"
Her head was spinning. Her stomach was churning --
There was one place in any home which just about guaranteed temporary privacy.
"-- restroom," the girl forced out. "I need a restroom --"
"-- I can lead the way," Fancypants smoothly cut in. With a smile, "Just another way in which we're all alike, everyone. Please give her a moment --"
But she was already moving. Not too quickly, because there was a lot of digestive system in her body and she didn't need to jolt any part of it.
The crowd cleared again. It seemed to happen faster.
She had to bend awkwardly to reach the sink, didn't stop splashing her face until water dripped from every part of it. Most of it soaked into the catch-towel she'd draped across her breasts. Some didn't. She hated that. Water could stain silk --
-- impossible.
This is impossible.
They all believe --
The girl stared at herself in the mirror. Instantly hated everything she saw, and forced herself upright.
Think.
The most obvious answer was... the con? Had anyone in her own world tried it? She wasn't completely sure. It felt as if some human rulers had claimed to be incarnate gods, with others saying they were the representative of the pantheon and wouldn't actually join it until their death. But to claim actual control, probably as a means of scaring off anyone who would try to take the throne...
'Do anything to me and the sunrise gets it' felt like a very human thing. But she'd been around the Princesses, and... she didn't want them to be like that...
...they could have fooled me. Bitterly, They seem to have fooled everyone else. Everyone out there believes this. Believes it like they believe in --
-- sunrise...
How could anypony sell this lie to an entire planet? Menajeria's science wasn't as advanced as that in her home, but she knew there were telescopes. Everything required to disprove a geocentric model seemed to be in place. And there was another factor: mass.
The Sergeant had taught her about unicorns and, in the case of the Princesses, those who could use that form of magic. There was a scale for measuring raw strength: the alicorns were at the top of it. And the scale didn't go up that high. From what Cerea understood, the strongest fields known to exist were capable of managing several metric tons. Nothing more. And with no more than three such ponies able to join their power for a single effort --
-- it's impossible. By magnitudes. Her head was now reeling from the sheer math of it, trying to figure out just how far short the greatest possible attempt would fall. The decimal places required seemed to stretch out forever. It can't work. Somepony should have figured that out. A lot of ponies, and everyone else. Unless the previous holders of the thrones silenced every voice...
A hoof politely knocked on the door.
"I don't mean to disturb you," Fancypants began (and she could hear the fear in his voice), "but some of the guests have been coming up to me. Are you quite --"
"-- a few minutes," Cerea choked out. "I just need --"
She stopped. Froze. Listened.
Finally, she heard the hoof touch the floor.
"...very well," the noble said. Audibly backed away.
She splashed more water at her skin. Rivulets ran down her neck.
It can't work. It's so easy to prove it can't work. Gravity alone... someone should have...
...magic, this is a world of magic, more magic than mine has --
-- there isn't enough magic. It's still impossible. A sun is a sun. I've seen their moon: it looks like it's about on the same scale to the planet, and you can't move that much mass --
The girl had been born on another world: something which provided her with certain weaknesses. The only sapient with no magic of her own.
But she hadn't been raised in her current environment.
The centaur had never been taught about things only told to foals. That which everyone grew up with, and never questioned at all.
Her world was a place with its own rules, and a particular set of sciences.
She didn't know enough to dismiss what was possible.
-- you can't move that much mass.
What if you don't have to?
no
You can't move that much mass.
But you could tell the mass to move itself.
no
There's a way this could work. The only way. Where they control the sun and the moon as Sun and Moon, and everyone believes it because it's real.
Because it's not moving them.
It's issuing a command.
Maintain orbit.
Run self-check.
Fire engines.
She was the only one in the world with the background required to recognize the truth, because it was an education which hadn't started on that world.
The thought only she could have.
The secret which wasn't a secret. Not to her.
She reeled. She wanted to vomit, and her stomach was churning so quickly as to force her into a desperate fight for control of both ends.
She wanted to go home. She didn't know what kind of place she'd found herself in, what had happened in order to make the world work like this.
But there was only one way it could work at all.
Sun and Moon are artificial satellites.
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Nothing is the First rule of fancy parties as an important guest: Sign nothing, agree to nothing, disagree with nothing.
Like Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer
And, here is where one of the biggest pennies drop.
Also, where people that don't know and don't care to follow up on the story canon will blow several...dozen gaskets. As long as their frothing fits don't require me to clean up after them, I'll just wait until the smell starts.
Well, that was fast.
People aren't going to handle that very well.
The next chapter is going to be very short, as when Cerea confronts the Princesses, they have her silently killed and say she died on the way back to her home planet.
In other news:
Yapper is a peach.
Welp, cat's out of the bag. Dot's gonna be a real interesting conversation...
And we haven't even gotten to the party crasher yet!
Skulls for the skull throne!
Princess Luna would never stub you in the back, she would punch you in the face until it stops resembling a face.
:nods:
This isn’t going well outside that bathroom at all. And it’s going to get interesting when Cerea drops that little datum on the AI-linked Princesses.
Yapper is amazing. Thank you for Yapper.
Ah, and someone has an epiphany.
Cerea arguing astrophysics with the Princesses will be fuuuuun.
Yapper is a delight.
Ambassador Torque is probably kicking himself that he missed the occasion to ask her about arms wrestling.
And Cerea is mortified that she might have to ask him about minotaur female lingerie. Let's hope there are catalogs he can direct her to. Wait, maybe there are a few females minotaur staff at the embassy. Torque can't be the only one there after all.
And here it comes. Cerea is smart enough to know that some things simply don’t work like that. Ponies, along with everyone else in Menageria, have always been able to assume “Magic!” and get on with their lives, but an outsider with even a basic understanding knows that’s not enough. If Cerea understood more about Agriculture the Secret would already have fallen apart.
This is going to be good.
MIND. BLOWN.
That would actually explain so much!
There are other solutions. Just because telescopes exist here doesn't mean they see the same things.
1) Sun and moon are not physical objects
2) Sun and moon, being light and power emitters, can be controlled through poking them right, without their being artificial
3) Sun and moon, being powerful entities, can be controlled by asking them just right, without their being artificial
The other.
Shoe.
Drops.
All that's left now is the fallout.
well then... that is going to lead to interesting places
As an aside, I find it oddly amusing that this very distinctly non canon story might give us the biggest insights into major components of the Triptych!verse.
10968959
Well, there's also how the Moon is clearly a cratered rock-y mass-ish... So that cuts out other info... Along with what info was dropped by ponies during Cerea's impromptu Astrophysics lesson...
So she'd likely have more info than we've heard here?
----
Aha! And combined with her level of science knowledge and stuff! She does indeed have all the info to put the pieces together!
That's achievable with currently seen magi-technology... Hmm... All that power in Sun and Moon... How much Platinum is inside them?
If Cerea saw Discord in his regular form, then she'd be able to form other ideas, but she doesn't know that Discord is that sapient and stuff...
----
Typo:
Fancypanty
I find it a little weird that she'd apparently want to vomit at the thought.
10968853
Unless it's Jet Set's insane ideas, then disagree with everything.
That's so true it's not even funny, and yet I have to laugh anyway. Nice.
10968970
Craters that appear and disappear with the imprisoning of a Princess within her ‘seat of power’?
Or a symbol on an artificial satellite that shows up when it’s occupied by it’s Mark-linked User One? (Depends on how much universe sharing is going on here)
10968989
Crater-ass is a nickname from Celestia to Luna, so their moon must have some craters no matter the state, because it's part of Luna's Cutie Mark?
OMG she finally said it!!!!!
I’m a idiot and not good with putting clues together so though I’ve read all of the verse I still could not figure out exactly what Sun and Moon where and now it’s been revealed
if i remember, Jet Set is the pony who called the Bearers "ruffians" in this scene:
One of the projects I’ve got under consideration has a similar thing with the Sun/Moon, but instead of moving them both are actually illusions produced by orbital mirror swarms reflecting the light of a much dimmer sun.
...oshit.
Also, Cerea seriously needs an apology jar. Like a swear jar but for when she says "I'm sorry."
"Nightwatch, you know how we agreed to ask and answer questions no matter how embarrassing or strange...?"
Confirmation of the previous hints about the identity of the minotaurs' enslavers.
Yapper stole the show today. As to Cerea’s theory, I can’t begin to guess if that’s actually canon in this fic, or she’s just trying to apply an Earth understanding of how our universe works in one where a high level of magic exists, likely far beyond the planet she’s marooned on. The physics could be sufficiently alien as to defy conventional knowledge. It’s possible Celestia and Luna don’t actually have to move their satellites with sheer force, but rather with a unique type of power or control that common unicorns no longer have. Cerea needs to calm down and realize that artificial or not, the movement of heavenly bodies doesn’t actually affect her day to day at all, except maybe to reinforce just how much the Alicorns need to be protected. There are far more immediate worries to stress on, don’t go looking for more! Anyway, excellent chapter.
10969081
It’s more about peeling back the layers here, I think.
Cerea has learned enough about Pony Magic to know that it does have to work with physics to an extent. Like, a Pegasus can create a bolt of lightning out of magic, but once it’s created it’s then going to behave just like natural lightning would. It seems to be the same for just about any spell that once you stop actively casting, reality ensues.
Apply that to Sun and Moon. Cerea learned from Jet Set that it requires a conscious effort to raise and lower them, and they can apparently be sped up or slowed down. But they also act in other parts of the planet, and the Princesses have to sleep, so they’re not being constantly monitored, and yet they don’t go out of orbit despite their sheer mass and the forces involved… Cerea has come to the conclusion that this requires they be partly-autonomous and of vastly different mass than the celestial bodies she knows. Not least of all considering that the Sun is moved, instead of being a giant ball of gas that the planet revolves around. The only explanation is that Sun and Moon are two matching bodies in orbit around the planet controlled at least partially by conscious direction, and that can only mean satellites.
As for why it’s freaking Cerea out… well, she just found out the Sun and Moon aren’t real. The actual Sun and Moon. And if they’re not real, what else is fake? The whole sky? The planet beneath it? The beings that rely on it for existence? The entire world?
I’d be freaking out too.
And we haven't even gotten to the Princesses' longevity yet, either...
10968959 Or....
Celestia heaved a deep sigh and turned to her sister. "Do you mind if I show her? She is our Guard, and I'll make certain to return them to their proper place when we're done."
"But they always get so... drooley? Very well," said Luna with a short huff. "I'll make an exception this one time."
"Luna's such a dear," said Celestia into Cerea's ear. "Hold onto your inner ear for a moment. This can be disconcerting the first few times."
The world turned inside-sideways and about four brisk steps to the left, and by the time Cerea's eyes cleared, all she could see was stars.
All she could see were stars. In every direction. Except for Celestia, who was vaguely star-like herself.
"This will only take a moment, and I needed this time anyway," said Celestia as she used her magic to pry loose one of the glittering stars next to them, which looked about the size of a soccer ball once it was hovering beside her. "I've been so busy lately that I haven't had time to visit. Come here, boy! Come on! Fetch!"
A golden ball of fur and light bounded in their direction in a way that made Cerea think of a golden retriever, if made out of real gold and pure light. It circled once around Celestia with happy bounds, then bolted off into the distance when the tall alicorn gave the star a brisk toss.
"We can't do this for long," admitted Celestia. "The astronomers get upset and Twilight writes me all kinds of letters. But Sunny loves our playtime so much. Did you want to give it a toss?" she added as the golden creature bounded back in their direction with the star in its 'mouth.'
"Urk!" said Cerea.
thanks for the face palm. That's exactly what some people would say.
Back in "Mark of Appeal" the Sun's "voice" talked like a computer when Celestia interfaced with it directly.
Having Sun and Moon be small bodies (asteroid size) and much closer (perhaps half a planetary diameter out) makes the way it's set up make more sense.
In "Total Eclipse of the Fun" Sun and Moon passed close enough to each other to almost touch, which would require Moon to be as big and distant as Sun, or for both to be small and close.
The majority of other fics either don't address it, or have to be very very clever about explaining how it's supposed to work.
Most of those use some variation of the star using it's own energy to move with Celestia just inputting commands.
Using magic as a containment field would allow for a star that small to actually function as a star via nuclear fusion.
Likewise, the stars in the night sky could be clusters of smaller "suns" in geosynchronous orbit.
The lack of any "natural" stars in the night sky would suggest that Equestria is in the void between galaxies.
Maybe the whole planet is meant to be a muti-generational intergalactic ark of some sort.
Yapper is awesome. I could read about her messing with ponies all day.
10969117
DOH!
10968980
If I were in such a position where:
I wouldn't even reach the door...
Absolutely adore this story so far. Between putting a grim edge on Daily Life, the wonderful growing sisterhood between Cerea and Nightwatch, and seeing Cerea really shine and give it her all (even if a lot of it is understandable overcompensation), I love what's come so far and am excited to see what's next!
I want to say that Cerea is over-stating her potential impact on Menagerie ... but we do have the (possibly growing) non-magic zone ....
I wonder who she'll share this revelation with? And what the Diarchs will do when world get back to them?
Wow, even the yak?
I have the distressing sense that Yapper's trolling will backfire in the worst possible way.
"Sorry, I'm not from this universe. What's your preferred group noun?"
Oh no. Monopoly is so antithetical to friendship, hitting Twilight with the board counts as assault with a lethal weapon.
Hmm. A minotaur pushing down reflexive animosity towards a Diamond Dog. Don't mind me, just making notes...
Now I'm imagining shoebill griffons. Like having a conversation with a Gatling gun.
That might be the first intelligent thing he's said all night.
I recall a lecture from Bronycon '19 where someone did the math and determined that Celestia's power output when moving the sun puts her on the Kardashev scale. Assuming, of course, she's working with a star as we know them.
Fascinating as it is to see Cerea reach the truth, it's also interesting to see what possibilities she discounts: Being an alicorn as an exponential force-multiplier, deliberately hiding their full capabilities from the public, different physics in a different universe (though that leaves the question of how Cerea herself is still alive,) power output that only works on the Sun and Moon, so on and so forth. Artificial satellites aren't the conclusion I'd reach, but I wouldn't be so incensed by the suggestion to begin with. (Of course, that's presuming I can extrapolate my own mental state after months of near-isolation and constant outrage expressed at my continued existence. Honestly, if I were in Cerea's place and Tirek were humanoid, I wouln't have lived long enough to make it to Canterlot.)
In any case, it will be very interesting indeed to see what Cerea does with this revelation. And how the other guests process that crash course in orbital mechanics. I wonder if she got to the part where gravity is like a rubber sheet...
10969160
I thought for sure she was playing with Sirius.
10969413
Shoebill Griffins are naturally gifted auctioneers.
That's no moon. It's a space station!
10968990
I don't think their point was that ALL the craters disappeared. Some disappearing is quite interesting enough on its own.
10969251
10969523
Thanks!
10968989
Actually, yeah... What's the significance of the craters that you seem to be discussing? I was just saying that they clearly exist... on what appears to be a rocky satellite?
As much as I enjoy Yapper, she’s a bit of a bad date, ignoring the one who brought her. Not that it would have saved Cerea from her epiphany moment…
Definitely some surprising levels of worldbuilding in this story, but then it makes sense in hindsight when the lead of the story allows the audience to see it all through new eyes. Looking forward to seeing where this leads!
10968959
I would say that the point isn’t that the only correct way to account for the sun and moon in any Friendship is Magic story is to assume that they’re super advanced tech. Rather, the point is that in *this* story, by virtue of her unique background coming from a world closer to our own, Cerea is one of the only ones who could deduce that possibility and appreciate what that means.
And then the more chilling prospect... Who built them?
Let's hope both Luna and Celestia can, instead of pushing her from them or just trying to silence her, invite her to their own secret, so they aren't alone in it anymore. Who knows, maybe Cerea's knowledge can give them invaluable insight on the nature of the cosmos and their own knowledge of it.
I'm certain that at least Twilight, once she does become privy to they knowledge, would love Cerea for it. Once you get over the whole centaur thing, that is.
10969444
ponies in spppaaacccceeee. Sorry not sorry lol
All righty then! The snowball is at the top of the hill~! Let's roll that motherfucker down and see how much shit gets wrecked along the way!
Yup, Yapper is amazing.
And having identified Earth Pony magic, of course Cera is going to twig Sun and Moon.
10969190
The comics literally make getting to the moon possible with a bit of magical help and a very long rope.
Hmm Is Cerea left handed here? You usually keep the scabbard on the opposite side of the body from your dominant hand as it is easier to draw that way.