Chapter 9
Orson’s graduation party was almost everything he imagined it would be. But considering how low the prices for venues could be these days, he would’ve been insane not to take full advantage. Besides, after four years of financial responsibility in college, his family was footing the bill for once.
The party couldn’t be perfect, of course. Where his college town had once had a dozen different bakeries, now there was only the single big-box store left, and its selection of non-pony related treats left something to be desired.
But it wasn’t like the preparations really mattered anyway, so long as his friends were there. And they were, in and out of Equestria. There was hardware for that now, simple projectors that could turn any flat surface into a window into Equestria. Well they didn’t look like windows—it looked like the space just continued, with an illusion that somehow adapted to different perspectives without mutually interfering.
That was mostly for family, in any case. Orson had two grandparents on that side now, emigrated without telling anyone until a few weeks before the event. And they wouldn’t have done it if we visited them more.
Just because he could rent out any number of halls or old churches for the event didn’t mean he needed all that space, though. Orson was a fairly private person, with no time for a large circle of friends. That was what he told himself, anyway.
They managed to fill a modest ballroom anyway, and the familiar smells of family recipes and favorite songs soon made all his other fears fade into the background. In spite of every challenge before him, of the entire world turning itself upside-down, he’d graduated.
But when all the well-wishes were done, when he’d taken plenty of photos with his family and even a few in front of the projection wall, when the family began to slip away with plastic tubs of leftovers, his friends began to arrive.
Murphy and McKenzie arrived first, with a few bags of chips. “I don’t think they make sun chips anymore,” Murphy said, hefting a few party sized bags. “But this new brand tastes pretty good. Cheese and barley crisps channel the same sacred junk food energy.”
I probably don’t want to find out who makes that bag. Just like he didn’t want to look into the company that was buying up all the local grocery chains, or any of the other things that Honeycomb had mentioned. He wasn’t going to ruin what was otherwise a chill and entirely enjoyable day with bad news.
“Better make it worth the drive, Murph,” McKenzie added. “We didn’t have to come all this way to play your game when we have Equestria. What’s the point?”
Basically what Orson expected from McKenzie, so it wasn’t like he’d let it bother him. She’d been part of their group for the entire semester now, playing every game the new way. But that didn’t mean she’d ever become part of the group. Every session was about ways they could tweak the game to make it a little more like “real” Equestria. Why did they have to fight so much, why so many gods and demons and other things that “broke canon?”
Orson bit back the criticism, waving them into the next room. “I see you’ve both got your pads. Wi-Fi password is on the table. We’ll play next to the projector. My grandparents should’ve gone home on their side. Go ahead and eat everything. But no drinking until after ten, or we’ll never make progress in this game.”
Murphy raised an eyebrow, watching him curiously. “Progress in the plot, Orson? What have you done with my Paladin?”
He didn’t laugh, which was probably what his GM was expecting. “I know it won’t be our last session together, but… grad school starts in a few months. With how far you guys have to drive, it’s probably the last one we’ll have in person for a long, long time…”
He trailed off, scanning the room suddenly. “Hold on. Artie would never waste gas by driving up himself. Where is he?”
“Food stuff,” Murphy said, gesturing towards the door. “Offered to help him carry it in, but he insisted. Don’t ask me.”
Orson darted out to meet Artie by the car, skidding to a stop as he saw the full extent of how badly his friend had been abandoned. Artie had half a feast arranged in the trunk of the car, almost big enough to rival the graduation meal itself.
“Damn,” Orson whispered, staring at all the different packaged trays. Artie was the kind of friend to have at least a few ramen meals a week, so seeing so much food in one place was a little disorienting at first. “How long did it take to cook all that?”
“Yesterday,” Artie answered, grinning back at him. “And before you ask, no, it’s not a big deal. I’m not going to need the money soon, so I thought I’d put it to work. Gotta burn the boats, no sailing back to Spain.”
“Tell me what I can carry,” he said, slowing as he noticed the case of liquor. “That’s… burning the boats was right. I don’t even want to know how much that cost.”
“Lots,” Arite said, gesturing. “Take those, I’ll get the rest. We’ll need multiple trips anyway. Figure we’ll go for most of the night, so… I tried to make everyone’s favorites. Except Kit’s, but that goes without saying.”
Orson walked beside him as they made a few trips, groaning under the load. “What possessed you, Artie? If this is going to be a problem—I’ll cover it. I don’t want you struggling with rent or anything.” They settled the new wealth of food down into the waiting kitchen, enough to supply a group several times their size for several nights. “My graduation isn’t this important.”
Artie shrugged a dismissive shoulder. “Wasn’t just for your graduation. Guess you didn’t… you do sometimes leave sessions early I guess, and you weren’t in town.” He looked away, out the open doorway into the gaming room. “This is my last time hanging out with you guys IRL. We won’t be together like this until you decide to come to Equestria, and I don’t know when that will be.”
The words hit him like a slap in the face, though considering the facts for even a few seconds made his confusion feel stupid. No other occasion could’ve prompted an expense like this. Honeycomb was right, Celestia was taking everything over. The words still hurt, though rationally they shouldn’t have. Orson himself was moving to another city in a few weeks, how was that any different?
“What convinced you?” Orson asked lamely. “I know more and more healthy people have been emigrating, but… why?”
“Lots of reasons.” Artie patted him once on the shoulder, moving slowly around him and out the door. “I’m sick of retail, Orson. I know you’ve got that bright future ahead of you, but that’s not how the world looks to me. A few years ago I thought I’d never get to emigrate, but it doesn’t cost anything anymore. Go to sleep for the easiest operation ever, and wake up in the world we made together. How is that not the winning move?”
Orson had no argument. There were plenty of priests and philosophers who might disagree, but not him. He’d already been convinced.
I’m doomed, he realized, watching as Artie started serving up a plate. She’ll get me too. It’s only a matter of time.
If only he could go back to believing all the things Kit said about Equestria, it would be far easier to stay. But they weren’t true, and no amount of wishing would change what he knew.
Kit herself arrived about an hour later, when they’d finished decompressing and catching up after their many days apart. It would’ve been pretty disorienting to play with her that way—but Orson slipped on his headset, and soon the virtual play area was pointless anyway. The table was filled with ponies either way, what difference did it make?
We didn’t even think of trying to play without Equestria Online. We’re together, we could’ve run the game normally. We could’ve set up a camera for Kit.
The VR gear even made accommodations for him to make food trips, though he had to feel out what he was doing with his hands.
The game was everything he imagined and more for their final blowout, culminating in a dramatic battle at about midnight when they defeated the last of the demon-gods they had been warring with over the course of the entire game. It was so good that Orson would’ve called the entire thing suspiciously good timing, if he didn’t realize all the extra help Murphy had with storytelling.
Somehow he even managed to work a romance subplot into the story, and not between one of the NPCs and his girlfriend. Granted, Orson wasn’t sure he would’ve felt much like participating, but it was the only time Kit talked to him anymore. If their only conversations were between their characters, he’d accept that if he had to.
She didn’t disconnect right away when the game finally ended, sometime in the early hours of the morning. Most of the others had wandered off or fallen asleep—technically banned in the venue, but they wouldn’t be cleaning it until six in the morning anyway.
He was still wearing the headset, which would’ve made him sick a few months before. But spending several hours at a time in VR wasn’t even hard on his eyes anymore.
He sat across the empty gaming table from Kit, who had spent the last few minutes stacking up an endless supply of dice in front of her. “Must be so much easier when you don’t have to actually move them around,” he said absently, waving one hoof in her direction. “I know that there’s more dexterity in VR, but it feels the opposite sometimes. A keypress or a controller is way easier. I never know if my fingers are going to work for something when I’ve got this lump over my leg.”
Kit knocked over her tower of dice. A conveniently timed accident, or had she actually bumped her controller at exactly that moment?
“You should see if things are better at the Equestrian Experience. Seeing things is good, but you’ve only got vibration haptics, right? The centers do temperature and smell too. Maybe some other stuff, it’s hard to keep it all straight.”
His eyebrows went up, and he put down the plate of wings. It was just something to do with his hands, he wasn’t anywhere close to really hungry. It was time to stop. “You can’t tell me you went into a Center, Kit. Didn’t you give me a line about suicide cults before? Wouldn’t that be a way for Celestia to trick you?”
Her ears flattened and she looked away, embarrassed. But she didn’t log off this time, so that was an improvement. “Sucks dick to be wrong, doesn’t it? Sooner or later I had to eat it. But you were right, I was wrong. About Equestria, at least. Not just because we made our own perfect place to hang out. McKenzie was kind of a nightmare for the game, but her heart was in the right place. Equestria’s pretty cool.”
His mouth fell open. This did explain why she’d been avoiding him so much. After their confrontation, this was a fairly dramatic way to switch sides. Kit was the last person to admit when she was wrong. But now she was. “You didn’t have to hide,” he said. “I’ve missed hanging out with you. You didn’t give me a chance to think about anything you said until you were already gone.”
And now I’m moving across the country, and God knows when we’ll live together again. Any relationship between them was doomed now. That ship had sailed, and left them behind.
She shrugged. “There’s always online. Sure you’ll have a little free time at grad school… don’t they give you a stipend or whatever? You won’t be working, so you can game with me.”
“Won’t be working is one way to put it,” he said ruefully. “There’s twenty hours a week of clinicals starting my seconds semester, and 40 my second year. The money they give you isn’t close to what I’ll make when I graduate.”
“Second semester,” she repeated. “I’m still detecting an opening. Besides, you can’t tell me you don’t play. I’ve talked to Honeycomb, I know how often you’re in there. I guess you… didn’t know when I was…” She rose, shuffling nervously around the table. She stopped a few feet from him, resting a hoof next to his. But of course there was nothing there, nothing but the faint vibration from a glove.
“That was my bad, but now we can fix it. You have a few weeks off, so meet me… Next Wednesday? Let’s try that date again, but this time in the Star Kingdom. We saved it, might as well reap the rewards. Besides, that should give Artie enough time that he’s in here. We should visit him for moral support.”
“Couldn’t we go out for coffee instead?” he asked lamely.
But by the time he’d even half-finished the question, she was already gone, leaving him alone at the gaming table.
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Well, uh. Darn. I'd say Orson will be the last of the group to upload, what with going to grad school and all that, but who knows what'll happen when Celestia makes his plans fall through.
I guess he's not going to have that sit-down-and-think moment after all. Then again, like, every Friendship is Optimal story has that moment, usually an excessive one. I'm not sure I care anymore.
And Orson realizes the magnitude of the situation, far too late to fight the inevitable. We’ll see how he copes with it, but I suspect the answer will be “not all that well.”
Kit saying "in here" specifically makes me think the reason she can't see them in person anymore is that she already emigrated. It'd explain why she changed her mind too. Hard to keep thinking it's suicide when you're there and feel alive.
10781360
Didn’t notice that wording, but I had the same theory. I bet she had an accident or terminal issue and it was immigrate or die.
The end's coming faster than you think, Orson.
Won't be long before everyone else goes too.
Or end up dead while your digital clone enjoys the good life. Guess it all depends on the continuity of consciousness during the transition.
Oh no...
Likely never. At least on Earth.
That's likely not possible anymore. Even in the possibility Kit hasn't emigrated yet.
Ouch. Though that cut-off might be Celestia's doing. The more broken Orson becomes the more vulnerable he is.
10781360
10781471
It's looking more likely that Kit's in Equestria now. Though there's a remote possibility that Orson never talked to Kit in this chapter. Or at least after their game. It's not hard for Celestia to slip in and replace someone in a virtual conversation.
When Orson does migrate - I kinda want him to wake up with an achievement for this
Took you that long kid?
Right here was where it became clear, I think - Kit's already gone. Uploaded or replaced, whichever it is in this continuity. Celestia does love to neutralize those who might talk others into dragging their feet.
10781471
Or she is already dead, CelestAI has emulated dead loved ones before
Everyone is doomed in this fallen, failing world.
On the other hand, they can be doomed together.
Reading this chapter, and re-reading the last one, I think Kit uploaded LAST chapter, not this chapter.
Possibly regretting it at first, and no longer now.