The Trinity of Moons: Mending Shards

by Cloud Ring

Chapter 2: Preparation

∿∿∿

Ponies have a saying: When visiting Black Moon, start with a list. It was known throughout the city as an universal advice for ‘If you’re puzzled, don't be afraid to question surroundings and ask for help’. For those who lived in S sectors this was more a landmark than saying.

As Black Moon was about to dip below the horizon, before going to bed, Solid set three alarm clocks for nine slices before the Moon’s zenith. Specifically, electronic one, mechanical one, and a self-decaying acoustic spell just to be sure.

When they came off she made and ate breakfast from appropriate and nutritious foods, checked the charge of her bracelet. She put in her bag her notebook enchanted to withstand all the possible troubles that can happen to paper; reliable, fresh writing refills; and a book with an illustrated hardcover.

Not that she expected the Immortal to be late. The book, an entertaining science fiction novel, was more like a talisman, an appropriate symbol of Black Moon. Still, had the alicorn been late anyway, Solid would have a pleasing time in waiting.

She focused on the pattern of the flooring that consisted of spirals slowly rotating inward. Tuned to it, she chose a version of the balcony to visit: one that was facing a slow river and an unending thunderstorm instead of a library or a sky. She stopped any thoughts for a third of a slice, just breathing in the wind, inhaling smells of ozone and fresh leaves.

I wonder if Moons do that.

For such an early wake-up there were a few reasons besides the natural thrill from a personal meeting with the Moon.

First, she wanted to take a walk.

Solid turned around, shutting her eyes, and went down an openwork staircase, which was not there just now, from the blank wall of a completely different house onto the pavement.

A curving boulevard lined with sparse trees and frequent stalls was a place that meant “I want to be seen.” By 14-S standards, crowds were swarming here. Sometimes two or even three ponies next to each other.

On Solid, anypony with an eye could read "Wish me luck." It was true generally, not only in 14-S. In Metropolis, you either know how to be attentive and sensitive, or you are unlikely to survive for very long.

She imagined how, perhaps, she would feel their respectful joy for her, had she followed Blue Moon. By aligning to Black Moon, you do not get much empathy, but you learn to build models and observe.

She knew that this joy was here, imperceptible, beyond the reach. Sometimes, instead of joy, she imagined sympathy.

This sympathy would be expected, and there lay the second reason.

Being into her fourth round in 14-S, Solid knew for sure: Moons appreciated and understood ponies. Besides citizens of Metropolis, They had nopony else to be friends with. Thus both sides had to accept friends as they are and care for them. In this relationship Moons were more observant, and looked right through time at many threads of fate. Sometimes it hurt. Sometimes it was lethal. Sometimes it was lethal more than once.

So, the second reason: she wanted to delay the moment of the meeting.

The street ended with a viewing platform overhanging a small calm lake. Standing in a place unobtrusively marked with a pattern of road slabs, Solid set her thoughts on a business-like mood and teleported no matter where.

Each street had its own state of mind and soul.

She took the feeling of “My life will never be the same again” and discarded it forever, like a worn-out raincoat. She moved through the downtown. She modeled urgent worries, accurate calculations and fear of failure in her mind. It was a toy to play with, not any accurate prediction or observation. Just a method to cope with her jealousy of Blue Moon’s ways.

The computing center, where she certainly would not get to work in this cycle, seemed unfamiliar and alien. Work was going on there without her, and that was bewildering. The lights were on and familiar voices were heard.

But Black Moon taught not to turn away from new experiences. Even if the experience makes you feel like you are bleeding. She trotted past that building.

Fear and efficiency were making sorties onto each other: repeat the list to herself, watch the time, hold the stylus correctly, don't ask stupid questions, don't forget to ask smart ones, don't forget to be thankful for the meeting.

The high seven-sided spire of the reassigned center for the sector served as the designated meeting place. She walked by without hesitation. In 14-S, the direct route was not always the shortest, while the shortest was not always the best.

What she needed now was emptiness. Turning to the drawing on the wall, cutting a corner, then again, she walked out into a semi-abandoned area.

Because there was also a third reason.

There were places in the Metropolis that could not be fully called wastelands- nor anything else definite. Somepony still lived here, maintaining incomprehensible brick sheds and large pipes and planting bushes.

Such places were loved by urban nature.

Insects swarmed in the thorny brown grass. Rodents rustled, semi-homeless cats stalked quietly. It was the most empty and boring area for everypony but her.

What pulled her here every time? What made the calculator, urbanist and rationalizer by vocation and profession rejoice at this unhygienic chaos of living nature? Solid did not know. She never went to zoos though.

There was a slice left until the meeting. The wasteland ended, leaning against the door of a tall building. She arrived.

The elevator, cool, gray and clean on the inside, went on endlessly. There was no more fear. It was a little boring.

The bell rang and the doors flew open.

Around the bend of the perfectly straight corridor with a discreet-coloured carpet, her fate awaited, likely involving an offer of a designation, which she would likely accept.

Signal went halfway out of the bag and meowed — loudly, alarmingly, warningly.

She entered through a high door into a huge office with a panoramic window and a massive table, decorated in straight lines and muted colors.

She saw a clear mirror in front of the table, and a reflection of Solid Line, already standing on this side of it.

Where and when had I been reflected? Solid did not think about it much. When you see a double sent by the Red, it's usually too late to think about the reasons.

She was alone and, therefore, she could not risk attacking the double. It had no such limitations.

Solid saw not a trace of Black Moon. She raised her magic shields against possible attack types — kinetic, thermal, electric — and turned to her copy politely and calmly, “May I ask you why you came over to this side, and what do you need?”

Not all meetings with doppelgangers ended in combat. More often they simply reminded of something forgotten, offered strange things, asked for the impossible. They always sounded angry and envious of that which was eternally desired and eternally beyond their reach: being alive.

“You have a choice to make,” it said in her voice, familiar yet eerily alien and trembling, as if somepony forgot to close a window tightly and left it to rattle in the chilly wind, rattle loud enough to be heard over the sounds of instruments and singing and laughter.

“I always have a choice,” Solid Line nodded. “Do you intend to offer it?”

The reflection turned sideways to her. There was no mark on its flank. There was not a trace or a line on the even yellow background of its coat — and yet this background was not the usual absence of a pattern. On the double, literally and palpably, there was a gaping absence of what was cut off by the mirror edge and forever frozen behind it, unable to achieve reality. Not "zero", and definitely not Solid’s own pink wavy line, but a deep minus, eye-catching like a bottomless abyss.

A single touch of the doppelganger to the mark of the original not only could kill — it was guaranteed to kill.

“Yes,” said the reflection. “I can leave and you will meet Black Moon as you intended. Or I can give you back your memory. After that, I will leave, too. I don't need anything else. For the choice to be balanced and fair,” it laughed, and the laughter was a blizzard far from home, “in the first case, when I leave, I will take your cat with me. Forever.”

Signal meowed briefly, and Solid clearly understood, "I agree to come with it."

Solid disagreed. She did not even have to think about it, “Well... I choose memory. I really miss it.”

She did not have time to finish the thought, as she stumbled and fell into memories that were not there.

Comments

[Numinos]

Interesting so far.

[Chatoyance]

Aviette - I learned a new word today. A flying vehicle entirely powered by the pilot. Fascinating!

Slight grammar issue:

The ordinator warned me about the forbidden light... I should be wary of it. Even brief touch of it [even a brief touch / even the briefest touch] would be too much for me... but no matter how much Solid Line squinted to find any kind of lamp, she saw none. Although the double had a saddlebag ajar... So, the bag; and maybe the source of light still remains beyond the glass. So, first step: I will remove the bag from it, but should take caution of light anyway. [but I should be cautious of the light anyway / be careful around the light / take precautions against the light]

I am really enjoying the use of phrases like 'cornsilk flash' and such, they evoke an in-world immersion and understanding I am impressed by.

"She is the reimplant of my dear aunt" - this is strongly suggesting that we are dealing with either virtual ponies (most likely) or artificial (robot/nanotech) physical bodies that use emigrated minds within them. Very interesting.