The Trinity of Moons: Mending Shards

by Cloud Ring

Chapter 1: Calling

Solid Line's cutie mark

∿∿∿

: How can I become Your Herald?

The yellowish letters of civilian language flickered and wavered against a blue background. It was too late to cancel the sending.

A tabby feline flank obscured the question, wading between Solid Line and the screen. The library was quiet, and Signal, being primarily not a cat but a reimplant — the soul of a dead pony — knew how to behave.

The unicorn pulled the cat by her side, unrolled a map of sector 14-S on the library terminal screen, and delved deeper into the task.

Computing systems were able to do a lot but not everything. Living ponies were required to outline the basic needs of the sector, from parks and benches to transport stops. They were to collect data and make a coherent picture out of it, to take into account not only the most probable events, but also catastrophes that happened no more than once a generation. For these tasks, a synthesis of organic and computer thinking was needed. Only in S sectors, where the line between living and non-living was blurred, could this synthesis be truly effective.

The work required referring to documents, making inquiries in the archives, concretizing the traditions adopted here, writing them down in precise formulations based on indirect signs.

Moving the coffee shop to the other side of the street increased the flow of its visitors by a fifth — on average, of course. A second newsstand around the corner, even as it had few customers compared to the first one, increased the satisfaction of residents in the area, because it provided them with a choice. The bowl of the fountain in the central square, if shaped as a six-pointed star rather than a circle, gave a long-term increase in migrations to 14-S.

∿∿∿

Solid Line was such a migrant. Three rounds ago, having already left the unbound age and having heard a lot from acquaintances how weird it was in S sectors, out of a sense of contradiction she went exactly there. Not to the nearest one, but the smallest of those that were nearby. The permitting reason was, of course, the fact that even then she was already aligned to Black Moon and was able to see Her in the starry sky. Without that, she heard, any of these sectors would be akin to a deep lake, freezing cold and completely inhospitable to her.

Had Signal resisted the notion, Solid, of course, would have abandoned this thought despite all her curiosity. But in response to a direct question, Signal simply arched her back, stretched, and affirmatively poked her paw right at 14-S, indicated on the unfolded map of Metropolis.

A step into 14-S, after having just crossed a white stripe on the ground, the unicorn stopped and looked around. Rumors should have a reason, right?

She slowly turned her head, peering through magical vision too, perked her ears and listened to the silence, sniffed and found nothing special. She cast a few simple spells; they worked flawlessly. Yes, there were noticeably more stars in the sky — she had heard about that — and they did not dim in the faded light of Blue Moon. But the piercing cold about which others had spoken was noticeably absent; there was no crushing despair that would, supposedly, come from the heavens. It was almost the same as outside, beyond a few oddities. For example, there was no illumination on the road sign, and yet Solid could easily distinguish the letters of civilian language:

For guests of the sector
For potential inhabitants
For seekers of the unusual
Loneliness
Basics of movement
Unjustified expectations

She followed the arrow on the penultimate branch of the sign. After a few steps she turned her head and saw neither the border nor the pillar with signs nor even the sky. There was a storage room around. More precisely, its outline: gray walls, empty shelves, several greenish boxes against the wall. No lamps, and nevertheless all the outlines were visible, as was the inscription in common language on the wall of the impasse where Solid Line now stood:

“You will leave the course if you turn away and walk three steps forward.
You will continue the course if you turn away and walk three steps in any other direction.
You see this wall only because you have not yet been trained, but are already able to be successfully trained."

She smiled and froze in place; not a step, not a movement of her head.

Soon the inscription changed:

“This is also a correct answer. Don't be alarmed. You cannot make a mistake in learning, just continue it or return to other business. You can do whatever you see fit. Basic recommendation: Observe the directions of your gaze and movement at the same time. Your request for help will be heard.”

Solid Line teleported outside the sector. Easy, short jump: She had not passed even a nine of steps inside. She snorted, irritated but not angry.

“I am fine without any help, or do you think I'm dumber than you?”

Once again she crossed the boundary of the sector.

In subsequent cycles she did need help, and more than once. It was hard to wrap her head around the fact that space depended not only on where she was but also on where she was looking at the same time. That her first emergency, outward teleportation worked only because this reaction was foreseen and this path was deliberately open. That teleportation in 14-S was not a jump through known space, but an act of distinct and independent movement. There were places where she could only move by teleportation, not because there were abysses or walls like on an ordinary road, but because there was no ordinary road at all; it could not be.

Her dreams in hotel rooms devoid of lamps were full of flights, falls, wandering in labyrinths that did not exist — but she was not worried. She felt her own growing into something more complex. Solid Line knew that she could and, in a sense, she must cope. It was her world.

Indeed, she gradually grew accustomed to it. There were always other ponies nearby, not offering help with that and other matters, but ready to provide.

Ponies of 14-S were slightly more common than light sources — that was, they actually were there, somewhere, maybe at a horizon, as Solid got to see once she learned to actually look for them. They were larger than ordinary ponies, and Solid had never seen horns with such curves, or such dense plumage, or such clear shining eyes. Their coats were of gold, silver or ash, but, contrary to other ponies they actually could change their color at will. Much more often than Solid would have liked, they did not allow themselves to be seen or heard, although, of course, they remained nearby.

However, they were not particularly withdrawn or shy, just quiet and even more distant than it is usual in Metropolis. Over time, a circle of friends formed around Solid for walks to concerts or to embankments in a small company, and she even invited three especially cute stallions home.

The 14-S's features were not limited to the unusual space. Communication of local ponies could be not only speech, not only telepathy and not only direct transmission of data but all this combined and more. That was exactly how, alone with a friend and too close to him, looking into the too bright eyes of the stallion opposite of her, she learned why the ponies here avoided showing themselves to others.

Because they can, albeit in rare cases, given rather close and prolonged contact, rebuild the existence of other ponies according to their own image. This did not apply to Solid then — at the time, she had already been one of the locals for long enough to effectively lead other ponies into ways and means of S too. It would be much easier with those yet unaligned though.

In the first luster she, too, learned to hide from inept eyes. In the second luster she got to know that everside, the esoteric layer of the world that was puzzling scientists of Metropolis for generations, here was just another hideout from the Red. In the third luster she realized that all these shifts in other directions were not a whim, but a necessity caused by an acute lack of space. And that all S sectors held onto those who loved them; so she also fell in love with her new home.

Almost three rounds had passed since then. Occasionally getting out to the rest of the Metropolis, Solid now felt the even and flat space more like as a playing field, spread out in anticipation of a long-awaited meeting.

It took a special effort not to look through the walls, as there was simply no ‘thickness’ in a few specific directions of her new sight. Behind each pony she saw there was a distinct trail of the route these ponies traveled to get there. Public transport was too slow and inefficient for her now. Frankly, for each long and crowded ride nine or so steps were enough — just in the other direction.

Solid's mind had many things to be busy with and it eagerly devoured new problems and questions, picking up answers to them. She solved the problems of arrangement — both of the sector and of herself in it, was chaperoning newcomer migrants, conducted evacuation exercises against infusions of the Red. Here too, unfortunately, these infusions did happen.

Each cycle, she felt that she still knew much less than she would like. Still, over a long time she became pretty sure that her past was slipping away in her trot for new knowledge; that she had not written letters outside the 14-S for a long time since the first and only one. It was pretty short and still tangled, ending with the same line it had begun.

Sometimes it bothered her, but the slight confusion always went away whenever she directed her mind to the next problem. Little things were dissolved in the past, the usual road to her new apartments required unremitting attention, and life was almost endless — in the literal sense. In 14-S it was almost impossible to die, and the easiest way to keep a doll from coming to life was simply not to play with the doll. Best of all, not to make it in the first place.

Of course, this was not quite true life. Those who died once in 14-S wore purple bracelets as a silent reminder that they should not generally be taken out of the sector.

She forgot about her question to Black Moon — about her request to become a Herald — in the same way.

∿∿∿

The answer came a long time later, after Solid Line saw the bright glow of her own neon-green eyes in the dark glass of the terminal. She could not remember what they were like. She only remembered that they were not green.

>>> You are already a Herald. Probably.

The letter came from Black Moon, but it was written in a civilian language.

Black Moon has never used a civilian language in correspondence.

Solid pet the cat and answered without touching the keyboard, just reaching out to the terminal with her mind:

: Too vague words for a Moon. Forgive the rudeness of the question, but is it true that the Moons can lie in common writing?

The answer was a green sigil of true writing, one that did not require anypony to know the language, but nevertheless was clear to all those who have eyes and a mind behind them, and Solid also got the message: Moons do not lie.

Technically, it still was not the answer. But these signs were how the Moons actually wrote, to others, not Solid. For Solid, this was the first conversation with Her.

: Then why don't I know it yet? Where is the entry ceremony? Where are the uniforms and everything else that usually happens?

>>> Where you need it all. That is, nowhere. But I really don't know if you are Herald or not, in the future or now, here or never.

: How can You and I find it out?

>>> Come to meet me. Here is the address. Don't tell anypony about the meeting. If you break the condition, the meeting will not happen.

Solid hugged the cat tighter, looked at the screen, then into the cat's bright green eyes. The same as hers. This could be a family trait if Solid did not know better.

“Will we go?”

Signal — that was, Signal Line, the deceased aunt's reimplant — made a distinct nod.

Solid giggled. “Even if it's not the Moon... then, for sure, it will be interesting and unusual. Am I right?”

The cat nuzzled her.

Comments

[Solid Punch]

Nice start, can't wait to see more of it!

[Numinos]

Intriguing start. Want more : )

[Chatoyance]

One typo noticed:

The computing facility of the habitat sector 12-S had been at the third floor of the working subsector, well above the ground level. When Solid Line came close, after a after a few

Curious circumstance. I am thinking something like the Optimalverse, but, I guess we shall see. The writing flows nicely.