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Dash grunted as she tumbled to the ground under the weight of her rescuer. They skidded briefly across what felt like rough rock, but when they came to a stop and she opened her eyes, she couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black.
“Twilight?”
The body on top of her shifted, and magenta light sparked up above her, illuminating a lavender horn and deep purple mane streaked through with pink. Dash shielded her eyes and, a moment later, warm yellow light filled the space.
She stared up at the pony above her, her mouth hanging open.
“I’m afraid not, Rainbow Dash… but I can understand your confusion.”
Despite the coloration, this was definitely not her Twilight. Both her mane and tail were cropped short, though they maintained her usual straight-angled cuts, and she was wrapped in a now-familiar jumpsuit, traced with channels of pale yellow that reminded Dash of sunlight.
The unicorn hopped up and offered Dash a hoof. She accepted it hesitantly and was pulled to her hooves. “Uhh…” Dash found her voice as they dusted themselves off. “Yeah. You’re not Twilight. So who are you? And how do you know who I am?”
She looked around. She was standing in a chamber hewn from blue-black rock, the surfaces a rough contrast to the sleek surroundings of the Grid.
“My name is Spark. And of course I know who you are,” Spark said, eyeing her speculatively. “Celestia’s told me all about you and your frie—”
“Celestia!?” Dash grabbed at her. “Is she here? Is she okay!?”
Spark blinked in surprise, then grinned. “Of course. She’s fine, if a bit lonely. I guess I’m not always the best company. I’ll take you to her now. I’m sure she’ll be very excited to see you.”
Dash allowed herself to be led off through a short tunnel cut through the rock face. Her shoulder twinged where she’d hit the ground after being knocked out of the sky by RBD, so she lifted into a hover. Silent at first, she tried to get a handle on her rapid-fire reversal of fortune and found herself distracted by Spark’s too-short tail bobbing in front of her.
Finally, she said, “You’re not Twilight. I’ve already met not-Rarity, not-Fluttershy, and not, uh, me. So what are you?”
They’d reached the end of the tunnel and come to rest on a smooth platform. Another elevator. As Spark turned to face her, the platform lit up and began to rise, taking them with it. Dash craned her head back and saw darkness stretching away above them.
“I’m a program. Celestia wrote me, based on your friend Twilight, and the other familiar programs you’ve met.”
“I’m sorry, but—a program? I’m sure Twilight knows what that is, but I have no idea,” Dash admitted. “What exactly is a program?”
“At the most basic level, I’m simply a sequence of instructions designed to be carried out by Celestia’s computational engine,” Spark explained. “I’m admittedly a complicated sequence of instructions. They cover everything from how I look and move, to how I’m allowed to interact with the world around me, to how I sound when I speak and how I process information—that is to say, how I think.”
Dash considered this. “That’s weird,” she announced before tentatively prodding Spark’s side. “You don’t feel like a list of instructions.”
“That’s because one of those instructions is to feel like a real pony,” Spark said cheerfully.
Dash sighed. “Of course it is. So am I a list-of-whatever now that I’m in here too?”
“No.” Spark shot her an appraising glance. “You’re something else entirely. You’re a user—a real flesh-and-blood pony, represented within the virtual reality interface by very powerful magic I don’t fully understand.”
“Now I know you’re not Twilight,” Dash said wryly.
Spark looked indignant. “I doubt your Twilight would either! Only Celestia is capable of manipulating and maintaining the necessary spell matrix. She’s taught me the theory behind it, but I haven’t yet figured out how to actually execute it. It can be quite draining for her.” Spark sighed. “She spends a lot of time in meditation to keep her strength up.”
“Huh.” Dash turned this over in her mind. She’d never seen Celestia look tired. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Spark shushed her and she managed to keep herself from bristling.
“We’re almost there. She’s meditating now. Give me a moment to rouse her.” Dash nodded, and the platform clicked into place. They had arrived in a large room with polished floors that matched the platform—like before, she couldn’t even locate the seam—but rough blue-black walls that matched the tunnel they’d come from.
There was furniture scattered throughout the room, low-slung sofas and lounges and tables, and bookcases along some of the walls. The far wall wasn’t a wall at all, but a great wide window looking out over the darkened landscape. Dash thought she could see Canterlot off in the distance.
In the center of the room sat a great shape, softly glowing in a mystical field of light. The field almost looked like slow-falling stars or raindrops made of energy. The shape itself was dark, roughly twice Dash’s height, and Dash wouldn’t have recognized her if she hadn’t been expecting her. The crown and jewels of office were gone, replaced by a flowing black robe with a few streaks of golden light tracing its curves, and her usually rippling mane hung limp on her neck.
Dash realized she was seeing a different Celestia than she’d been used to in her youth. Celestia was cloaked, secretive… in hiding.
She stayed where she was as Spark trotted over to the silent form of the princess. The alicorn’s large eyes were closed, and their eyelids flickered when Spark bent her mouth to a great white ear and murmured, “Celestia? We have a visitor.”
Eyes still closed, Celestia smiled ruefully as she shifted and sat up, rolling her neck, shaking out each leg. “That’s a new one, Spark, very funny. Your studies of humor are coming along nicely.”
“She’s, uh.” Dash faltered. “She’s not joking, Your Highness.”
Celestia froze. She turned to face Dash and opened her deep magenta eyes. Spark bit her lip and stood off to the side as the two flesh-and-blood ponies stared at each other.
“Rainbow Dash,” Celestia breathed.
A few hours ago, Dash had been sure she’d never hear that voice say her name again. She was surprised by how anticlimactic it felt. Ten years since she’d last seen her princess, and they were just standing there staring at each other. She remembered herself and dropped her front half into a bow; the strange material of her bodysuit squeaked in protest. “Princess Celes—”
She felt herself swept up by forelegs much larger and stronger than hers and found her face pressed into a multicolored mane that was not her own.
“Rainbow Dash!” the princess half-choked, and they fell to the floor, Dash desperately trying to think of something to say or do as the Goddess of the Sun wept into her mane. She shot Spark a frantic look, a silent plea for help, but was further surprised by a wistful smile on the program’s face.
“It is you—not a program, not a simulacrum, not a fevered hallucination! I can tell. It’s no wonder the spell faltered.” She pulled back enough to stare into Dash’s eyes. “Do you know you are the first real pony, other than me, to enter the System?”
“I, uh.” Dash blinked. “I guess it’s an honor, Prince—”
“Call me Celestia, please,” the princess cut her off. She seemed to come back to herself slightly, taking in the two of them huddled up together on the floor. “Forgive me. It has been… it has been a very long time since I have seen anypony I did not personally create.”
Celestia stepped back, her robes falling into place, and Dash pushed herself to her hooves. “Ten years is a long time, Prin— Celestia. We’ve all missed you.”
Dash was shocked by the haunted look that flitted through her princess’s eyes. “Ten years is a long time, my little pony. A thousand years, a much longer time.”
“What?”
Spark came up beside Celestia. “She means, Rainbow Dash, that time passes more quickly within the simulation than it does outside it. By a factor of one hundred, to be precise.”
Dash gaped. “You’ve been trapped in here for a thousand years?”
Celestia nodded. “I would guess you arrived in-System perhaps an hour and a half ago or so?”
“Yeah, that sounds right.”
“Then only a minute or so has passed in the real world.” Before Dash could ponder the implications of this, she continued. “I must know, Rainbow Dash—well, I must know a great many things, and truth be told I am having difficulty ordering my thoughts, but most importantly: how did you come to be here?”
“Look, both of you, just call me Dash. And it was kind of an accident. I’d given Twilight a ride to Canterlot after she got your letter, and—”
“My letter?”
“Yeah, you know, you sent Twilight a letter, asking her for help?”
“My letter.” Celestia frowned. “Of course. Please, do continue.”
Dash frowned too, but kept going. “So I tagged along with Twilight and Princess Luna when they figured out how to open your secret bookcase and get into your hidden room, and Twilight started messing around with your master console or whatever. And then this other machine almost zapped her but I pushed her out of the way and it zapped me instead! Next thing I know, I’m in a weird version of the castle and everything’s different.”
“I expect you were then captured by a Black Guard patrol and taken to the Challenge Grid.”
“She was about to be derezzed by RBD, but I intervened,” Spark chimed in.
“Well done, my student. But only programs are subject to deresolution—the correct term for a user is ‘death.’ Dash was about to be killed, not ‘derezzed.’”
“Ah, of course.”
Dash couldn’t have heard that right. “Hold up—I actually would have died? Like for real?”
Celestia pursed her lips. “Yes. Your consciousness would be transferred to temporary storage for eventual permanent deletion, and your body would be ejected from the matter storage matrix during the next garbage collection cycle—that is to say, it would reappear in the real world once the System noticed it was no longer in use.”
“Uh, no offense, Prin— Celestia, but that seems like a really stupid way to do it.” Dash scrunched up her face.
The princess laughed lightly. “I agree. It was a slapdash solution for a situation I didn’t ever expect to encounter, and it’s not possible to modify the simulation’s executable code from within.”
“Uh… right.”
“Celestia,” said Spark, and Dash thought for a moment how strange it was to hear Twilight address the princess so directly.
“Yes, my student?”
“You sent a message to the outside world without mentioning it?”
Celestia’s face grew dark, troubled. “No, I did not.”
Dash started. “Hey! Yes you did!”
Celestia turned and strode slowly to the window. Spark followed and Dash hurried to catch up, and was surprised to find it wasn’t even a window. The room was completely open to the outside world. She glanced out and, despite the lack of illumination, recognized the view after a moment’s struggle. “We’re in Smokey Mountain, right? Where... that dragon was trying to take a nap, and you sent us to get rid of him?”
The ghost of a smile passed over Celestia’s muzzle. “Yes. It seemed the safest place to lay low. Who would ever think to search for the Creator in an unremarkable cavern, deep within a mountain chain?”
Dash muttered, “I still don’t really get why you sent us to do that. You’re Princess Celestia, you could have made him leave.”
Celestia arched an eyebrow. “Is that the world you want to live in, Dash? One where all your problems are addressed by your princess, where you must never learn nor grow, where you make no decisions of your own?"
“I guess not,” Dash conceded.
“No. Little good comes of doing everything for everypony. Dictatorship, no matter how benevolent, rarely ends well, and in the meantime it makes everypony's lives very… boring.” Spark looked up at Celestia with an unreadable expression, and Dash suddenly felt uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, Pri— Celestia. I’ve—we’ve all—had good lives.”
Celestia turned, looked down at Dash, smiled. “I am glad to hear it. And I would be glad to hear more. Are you hungry?”
Dash paused to think. “I… I guess so, yeah. Does that even make sense?”
Celestia laughed again. “Of course; you’re still a pony. Come, I’ll prepare something for us while you tell us of Equestria. The real Equestria.”
While Celestia magicked up raw ingredients and Spark acted as sous chef, Dash told them about life back home since the princess had disappeared. She regaled them with tales of Rarity’s expanding business interests, Applejack’s begrudging acceptance of a small degree of automation at the farm, Fluttershy’s successful series of “home care for critters” guides, and Pinkie Pie’s inheritance of Sugarcube Corner when the Cakes had retired. Celestia asked questions here and there, relieved when Dash assured her Luna had done an admirable job of managing Equestria in her absence. Spark soaked it up like a sponge, hanging on every word of this first-pony account of life in the real world from a new perspective.
Dash carried her share of plates to the table and they all sat. She was surprised to see Celestia carrying two settings, and Spark took her place in front of one of them. “You can eat?”
“Oh, mine’s not real food. Simulated food for a simulated pony.”
“So… what’s the point?”
“Sharing meals together is a very important social activity, a key aspect of companionship.”
Dash choked on her first bite of grass burger, her mind racing. “Companionship? Are you two, uhhh…” A strange feeling shot through her. How would that even work?
Spark gave Dash a blank look and Celestia looked startled before bursting out into peals of laughter. “Oh, Dash! I haven’t laughed so hard in many cycles, thank you, but really, don’t be absurd. Of course, I mean no offense to you, Spark.” Spark turned her blank look on the princess, who sighed and nodded as if she should have expected that reaction. “Dash misinterpreted your explanation as meaning that you and I were intimately involved.”
“Aren’t we? We live together, take care of each other… I mean, you wrote me, for—”
“Romantically involved, Spark.”
Spark ground to a halt, looking surprised. “Well, that’s just silly.”
Laughing again, Celestia said, “Now it is I who will not take any offense.” Dash snorted into her hay fries, and Celestia turned to her. “And what of your… involvements, Dash?” There was a mischievous glint in her large eyes. “You’ve told me about your friends’ courtships, but nothing of your own.”
“I mean, well,” Dash slid a practiced grin into place and her voice dipped into a conspiratorial register, “you know, a gentlemare doesn’t kiss and tell.”
Celestia just sat there and looked at her, expression unchanged, letting expectant silence fill the space. Dash’s grin faltered.
Spark schooled a smirk into an expression of naive innocence. “Dash, why is your face red?”
“Shut up, Spark,” Dash muttered.
After lunch, they retired to one of the groups of furniture dotting the cavern. Dash stretched out on a sofa, gazing out the opening at Canterlot glinting in the distance. She frowned.
“So it’s like… early afternoon, right?”
Spark’s eyes unfocused and she tonelessly recited, “It is 11:12 AM, System Standard Time.”
Dash blinked. Twilight might have her moments, but she didn’t have a clock in her head. “Creepy.” Spark’s expression became quizzical and perhaps a little hurt, but Dash went on. “So, why is it still dark out? Didn’t write instructions for the sun to shine?”
Celestia laughed softly, a mellifluous sound. “Oh, I did, but within the simulation it was largely aesthetic, as the climate and so on are controlled ‘behind the scenes,’ if you will, by weather subsystems. When I was not inside the simulation, the sun would automatically raise and lower itself as scheduled, but when the System detected I was present, the automatic subroutine deactivated, so I could raise or lower it manually. A silly force of habit, you understand. But since going into hiding, I’ve had to restrain myself. The necessary spell is too easily traceable.”
“What would RBD do if she found you?” Dash asked uneasily.
“I’m not sure,” Celestia admitted. “I assume she would attempt to kill me, and with the Black Guard behind her she might succeed.”
“I kinda thought, yannow… actually, I’m pretty sure everypony thinks you’re immortal.”
Celestia paused to think for a moment before explaining, “In the real world, it would be very nearly impossible for somepony or something to end my existence, though ‘immortal’ is perhaps a touch too strong a word. In here, however, I’m just like anypony else, and I already explained what would happen to a user who was terminated within the simulation.”
“So you’ve hidden away all these years—centuries—because you didn’t want to risk getting your mind erased?”
“Yes. A mind is a terrible thing to waste, after all.” The princess smiled. “And I must admit to a certain fondness for my own.”
Dash blew out a breath. “But you’re Princess Celestia! How in Equestria did you end up trapped inside a dinky box inside your own castle!?”
“Unfortunately, the Portal requires enormous power to stay open and active. To keep from burning out the associated circuits, it shuts down after eight hours of system time, or about five minutes in real-world time.”
“You couldn’t just turn it back on?”
“As I mentioned earlier, it’s not possible to enter commands from within the active simulation. That can only be done from outside. I never anticipated anything would prevent me from returning within the allotted time.”
“What did happen?” Dash’s brow knotted and she sat up. Finally, after years of waiting—and Twilight wouldn’t even get to know yet. Just her. Did that make up for anything?
Celestia looked mournful. “You happened.” Dash opened her mouth to protest but the princess lit her horn. “In a way. Really, RBD happened.” Ghostly images began to coalesce between them, illustrating her words. “I don’t know how much Twilight already told you…”
“Not much,” said Dash. “She kept what she was working on a secret, I only found out anything about it when she needed a ride to Canterlot.”
“I see. Well, a brief overview, then. For some time prior to my unfortunate disappearance, I had been engaged in a project. Even ‘immortal’ princesses of Equestria need a hobby, you understand, and mine happened to be the creation of what came to be my computational engine.”
Swirling mist came together to form geared mechanisms and a big complicated mass of equipment and thread. Small paper cards with holes cut in them appeared next to the equipment. Dash wasn’t sure what to make of it.
“Some of the more advanced looms used by the Equestrian textile industry can store instructions on punch cards, which in turn control how the loom weaves the fibers together to produce specific patterns. I realized I could combine this idea with that of a mechanical calculator to produce a machine capable of instantly carrying out complex mathematical calculations.”
The mess of gears, cotton, and cards melded together, and in a flash transformed into what might have been a very primitive version of the boxy machines Dash had seen in Celestia’s hidden workshop.
“I knew such a device would result in much time saved in many different fields, but as I worked and improved my models”—the primitive machine was replaced by successively more advanced versions, and in greater numbers—“I began to realize it was capable of far more influential accomplishments than mere number-crunching, and I eventually created the System you have entered: a simulation of the real-life Equestria.” The view of the machines expanded, as though Dash was flying into them, and inside was a three-dimensional view of her home, revolving in the air.
Dash glanced out the window again, taking in the almost-familiar skyline. “Okay, but… what’s the point? We already have an Equestria. Twilight said she couldn’t figure out the point of it either.”
Celestia let her head droop. “As I have managed to demonstrate several times, I am not all-knowing, nor do I possess future sight. Age and experience have granted me wisdom, but not infallibility. I do possess the capacity to make mistakes, and when I do, it is often with serious and far-reaching consequences for my little ponies.” The images in the air turned to confusion, angry and scared ponies running, other creatures chasing them, and Dash winced.
“Simply creating a simulated version of the real world is a curiosity at best. Running it at a much faster speed, though, would allow me to perform trial runs, as it were. I could implement a policy change or announcement here first and let the simulation run for a time, to see if there were any unintended side effects. With tweaking and revision and multiple runs, I could come very close to perfecting my decisions ahead of time.” The view split, and showed the same image to begin with, but as the ponies within began going about their business, they all went different ways.
Dash stared at the princess. “Seriously?”
Celestia smiled. “Seriously.”
The pegasus looked incredulous. “How is that even possible? The thing would have to know more than you, be smarter than you! How could a machine predict what one pony will do, let alone all of us?”
“A large enough database of information allows it to predict the actions of ponies en masse, if not individually. I loaded it with all of equine history; all details of the entire social, political, and economic situation in Equestria and the same for the surrounding countries; a wide knowledge of psychology in all its ramifications; a wide knowledge of technology with all its possibilities; weaponry, communications, strategy and tactics, science, medicine… the entire contents of the Royal Libraries, in fact.” Dash saw countless books flying into a glowing field in Celestia’s workshop.
“Every book, every scroll, every document since Equestria’s founding—and even earlier, thanks to the Archaeology department. I can confidently and without shame state the System does ‘know more than me,’ more than any one pony has ever or can ever know. That’s the only way it could have a chance of making accurate predictions. And it worked quite well, at least at first.”
Dash looked to Spark helplessly, and found the unicorn had been gazing at her. When their eyes met, Spark’s widened and she immediately glanced away. Dash blinked and turned back to Celestia.
“Okay, but if this thing’s so smart, how come everything’s gone to Tartarus? You’re hiding in a cave, for crying out loud!”
Celestia nodded. “As I have alluded to, my work was incomplete at the time I became trapped. Several key aspects had yet to be built into the simulation. For example, there is no concept of aging here—that is to say, physical degradation over time.” A cross-section of an earth pony appeared, vitals displayed alongside. “Every program left in the simulation now has been active since it started. They have all lived through a thousand cycles—the equivalent of a thousand years—and will go on indefinitely.”
“So they don’t get sick, or die of old age?”
“Precisely. A program will only derezz here through an accident, or deliberate violence.” The earth pony dissolved into shards of light.
Dash thought back to the pegasus who’d clipped the pillar. Over a thousand years old, and he died because of a stupid mistake? Then, with a start, she remembered the aerial flight pack battle. She had killed programs. A bunch of thousand-year-old programs…
She shook her head. She hadn’t had a choice, it was her or them. Wasn’t like she’d killed ponies. Dash glanced uneasily at Spark, who was now pointedly staring at a game board sitting off to the side. Still doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“It took some time for the population to notice they weren’t aging, and to realize, if left alone, they would live indefinitely. Once the situation was common knowledge, it made the general population cautious. Few were eager to risk giving up immortality by standing up for themselves and fighting back.” The three-dimensional view of Equestria returned, this time with small glowing dots scattered across the map, which began to contract to the center. “Those that still lived gathered together in Canterlot, and that is where the majority of the survivors live today.”
Dash couldn’t figure something out. “Okay, but where were you while all this was happening?” She was startled by an expression on Celestia’s face she never imagined there: shame.
“I was here. Hiding. Exhausted by maintaining the life support spell, I was unable to prevent any of it.” Spark was paying attention now, watching Celestia with concern.
Still utterly confused, Dash asked, “But why were you hiding in the first place? You said I—RBD did something. What happened?”
Something flared in Celestia’s eyes; Dash almost took it for anger. “Corruption. During my test simulation, RBD spit her bit, as the saying goes, though ‘flipped her bit’ would perhaps be more accurate.
“RBD was meant to represent her Element, Loyalty, just as the other Element bearers here do, but it skewed away from allegiance to her friends. She became loyal to herself alone. She felt she deserved to be in charge, that nopony was a better leader than her. She brought some of the guards around to her way of thinking, and they came for me.” Pain flashed in her eyes now. “I was with APP—Applejack’s simulacrum—when they arrived. When she saw RBD meant to cause me harm, she forced me to run and held them off long enough for me to escape. I— I—” Dash was shocked again to see tears running down Celestia’s pained face. “I heard her screams. APP’s, I mean. I of course know she is not truly Applejack, that the real Applejack was safe and sound in the real world, but found the knowledge to be... little comfort.”
Spark spoke up quietly. “She came to Ponyville, to the library, and found me. We ran—didn’t even stop to pack anything.”
Celestia sniffed, wiped her eyes with a hoof, cleared her throat. “I explained the System’s true nature to Spark, and we made for the Portal, but before we could get there…”
“The Portal closed,” Dash said hollowly. The princess nodded.
“Celestia led us here to regroup, but we realized there was nothing to be done. So we settled down, built this place.” Spark looked around the room fondly. “Over time, I’d sneak back to the library to grab books, at least until RBD figured out what was going on and destroyed it.”
“Spark has had to be much more careful since then about venturing outside our Smokey Mountain hideaway,” Celestia said, the barest hint of admonishment in her voice.
“I’m always careful!” Spark protested. “And it’s a good thing I do go out! If I hadn’t, who knows what would have happened to Dash?”
“Hey! I can take care of myself!” Dash glared, but her heart wasn’t in it. “I do, uh, appreciate the help, though.”
Spark sniffed and said, “You’re welcome,” with a pleased little smile.
Dash turned back to Celestia. “So what now? The Portal’s still open, right, from me coming in? Let’s get going, we can finally get you back to Equestria!”
The princess hesitated before admitting, “It’s not quite so simple, I’m afraid.”
Dash snorted in frustration. “Seems pretty simple to me. The Portal’s only open for, what, another four hours? We gotta get moving before it shuts down again.” She stood and pawed at the ground.
“Celestia isn’t exactly in the best condition, Dash,” Spark pointed out reluctantly.
The pegasus eyed the alicorn. “Right. You’re usually pretty tired, from maintaining the life spell?”
“It is a great drain on me, yes,” Celestia lamented. “I’m afraid there’s no way I could summon the energy or focus necessary to teleport us there, and flying would take too long.”
“Well, Spark can take us!” Dash whirled back to face the unicorn, grinning. “She teleported me here, she doesn’t have to deal with the life spell!”
“I can only teleport someplace I’ve been before, or at least that I can see clearly.” Spark fidgeted and avoided eye contact, clearly unhappy about admitting her own limitations. “And even if I’d been to the Portal before, it’s practically at the other end of the System, in the middle of the Badlands. Long-distance teleportation with two passengers?” She bit her lip. “I couldn’t manage it safely. If I lost focus, we’d derezz.”
“There’s gotta be another option!” Dash said, a touch of desperation creeping into her voice. “No offense, but I’d really rather not be stuck inside this place forever!”
Celestia looked thoughtful and her horn glowed, the map of Equestria appearing in the air between them all once more. “Of course, the System includes all the major railways that exist in the real world. A branch line runs past the mountain range we’re in, through Ponyville, and out to Dodge Junction, near the Badlands.” A glowing line swept along the track’s route. “Close enough that I believe we could manage the remainder of the trip on the wing.”
“The next train will pass through our area in approximately ten minutes,” Spark said, her eyes unfocusing. “We’d need to change trains in Ponyville… I think we could make it.”
The princess turned to look out of the cavern. Dash followed her gaze, and to the right of Canterlot and farther away, she noticed a bright blue star, but it was below the horizon, much too low to actually be in the sky. She looked back at the princess, and saw the star reflected in her magenta eyes, which hardened in sudden determination.
“Of course you’re right, Dash. This may be my only chance—our only chance—to return home. We have to try.” Then she looked taken aback, and turned to the unicorn sitting across from her. “Spark,” Celestia said. “My most faithful, faithful companion. You understand, if we succeed...?”
Spark nodded and said simply, “It’s not possible for me to leave the System.” Dash winced and ruffled her wings, and Spark noticed. “It’s okay, Dash.” She gave Celestia a determined look. “I belong here—literally. You belong outside, in the real Equestria. I want you to go. It’s the only logical course of action; nothing else makes any sense.”
Celestia seemed as though she was trying very hard to not cry. Her eyes shone as she spoke. “I swear to you, if… when we make it out, I will do everything in my power to correct the… the damage I have wrought here. You don’t deserve to live like this. Noprogram deserves to live like this.”
Spark smiled softly up at her mentor. “I know you will, Celestia.”
And then Celestia staggered back, as though somepony had stabbed her, almost falling to the ground. “No,” she whispered, staring madly into the distance.
Dash and Spark both rushed to her side. “Princess! What is it?!”
The alicorn raised a weak hoof, pointing out the cavern mouth. “The Portal, it’s…”
Dash turned, and her belly turned to ice. Her vision shrank to a dark tunnel, centered on the bright blue star in the distance. It flashed once, and then once more, and then it winked out completely, leaving a pitch-black horizon and no way out of the nightmare she’d found herself in.
“Closed.”
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So, complete rewrite?
10831823
Pretty thorough one!
I don't remember much from the previous version with the time, but this looks good! I'm eager to see what comes next.
the portal time limit thing was one of the things I never liked about Legacy. never existed in Tron 1 and makes even less sense here
Two minutes real time, Twilight likely panicked....
Interesting explanation on why Celestia is so tired, but now we're curious what happens if she fails to renew the spell. Would they become ghosts? 🤔
10884582
What indeed!
Action Story Quiet Drama Scene, my favorite.
This was one of the chapters I found easiest to visualize in filmic form, as the characterization is so spot on for the recasts and yet so distinct from the original characterizations. Celestia being stuck for a thousand cycles is pretty poetic too (I forget how long it actually was for Flynn originally, but I don't think it was *that* long, was it?).
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It was!
(It was actually longer. TRON lore rounds it off to a thousand years, but if you take Kevin Flynn at his word that "hours in here were just minutes back home", the Grid was running 60 times faster than realtime; he was inside the simulation for just under 21 years realtime -- multiply that by 60 and you get 1,260 years.)