Imperatives

by Sharp Quill

10. Discoursing on Chaos

Another of Star Swirl’s space-manipulating spells opened up in a window. As originally written, they were comprehensible only to a trained unicorn. Meg had translated them into something comprehensible to humans during her preparation for this mission. She loaded it into the magic simulation software, as demanded.

“None of these spells is going to form a wormhole to Equestria,” Meg dutifully commented.

“It’s obviously possible; you’ve proved that often enough.”

Meg said nothing more. She had given them enough chances, lost cause it may have been, but she’d had to try—if only for her own sake.

She would depart that night. They would carry out their threats against Susie as a consequence; that was the point of goading them. The immutable past was immutable; paradoxes were forbidden. Yet there she could sleep easy. They were not monsters. No harm had come to her niece, not even psychological.

Even so, she wished she could apologize to Susie. It was too late for that, alas. Once she returned home, she decided, she would visit the statue of Susie that still stood in Canterlot, the one celebrating the harmony Susie had dedicated her long life to fostering between humans and ponies.

---

Soon after she had awakened, shortly before dawn in Greece, Twilight teleported into the cavern. Meg was where she’d expected her to be, at her workstation interacting with her computer. Steve, still a unicorn, was by her side, and Sunset Shimmer by her other side. The other humans were in front of a whiteboard. The equations scribbled there were obviously derived from general relativity, though nothing like she had ever seen in a book.

“Any progress?” she asked.

“Hard to say,” Sunset replied, still focused on the monitor.

“We may have figured out what’s powering that thing,” Steve said, “at least from a purely theoretical standpoint. But nothing else seems plausible that’s also consistent with the conservation of energy.”

Twilight thought they’d be more excited by that. Knowing what powered it meant knowing how to stop its growth. Right? “So how would we shut it down?—from a purely theoretical standpoint.”

“We don’t know if it’s safe to do so,” Sunset said. “The magic field would collapse, and there’s reason to believe that will destabilize it.”

“And we haven’t figured out yet what ‘destabilize’ means.” Martin mimed an explosion.

Twilight grimaced. Everything she knew, everything she had just read, about cleaning up after miscast spatial expansion spells, was useless. It was bad enough that those books, scrolls, and codexes all took it for granted that energy need not be conserved; worse was that they were oblivious to the possibility of magic going away. Of course that could have catastrophic results!

She’d have to start over from first principles. “Okay,” she began. “First of all, what is powering the anomaly?”

“Everything being sucked into it,” Steve said.

“Everything what now?”

“The long version. Mass is energy. The inside of the anomaly is time dilated. Dilated time lowers the energy content of mass. Inside a gravitational field, that ‘lost’ energy becomes kinetic energy, thus keeping the books balanced. But the anomaly isn’t a gravitational well; nothing is ‘falling’ into it. So instead the energy is being turned into magic, keeping the spell powered. We believe the spell is causing the time dilation.

“Put a barrier around the anomaly so that nothing gets sucked in by the ever-growing interior vacuum, and you cut off its source of power. But then the spell fails, and we don’t know what happens next. Theoretically, the time dilation cannot be undone with replacing the extracted energy. But the state of space-time in there is not natural; it cannot persist as is once the spell dies.”

Which, no doubt, was why those corrective spells were incompatible with the conservation of anything.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “So what do we do next?”

“Collect data until we can adequately model it,” Steve said. “Only then will we know our options.”

When would that lidar unit arrive? It hadn’t done so during her nap. “Can we at least slow it down? Put a partial barrier around it?”

Steve and Sunset exchanged glances. “Maybe?” Sunset said. “Problem is, we don’t know how much of a barrier is too much.”

Twilight sighed. That was another item for the todo list: figure out how to tell when a partial barrier gets dangerously effective.

Martin raised his hand. “Just a quick change of subject, but you might want to know your creator was here a few hours ago.”

Creator? Oh, right. “Please do not refer to Faust that way. She would not appreciate it either.”

“Uh… sorry?”

“Why was she here?” How she got here was obvious enough: the portal.

Meg spun her chair around to face her. “She’s getting the VIP treatment. Was invited to visit. She wasn’t here very long.”

“Okay, I guess.”

But it was a reminder of a different to-do list item: figure out how to tell if Faust had ever been magically influenced in any way. She looked at the whiteboard once more. Faust would have to wait.

Meg’s phone rang. She answered it, putting it against her ear. “Kinda busy here. World-ending crisis, ya know.”

Twilight wasn’t able to pick up the other side of the conversation, no matter how she directed an ear. After a few seconds, Meg put palm to forehead and muttered something indiscernible. “Okay,” she eventually said, “I’ll take a look.” The call ended.

Meg’s hands got busy. “Twilight, you better get over here.”

Twilight obliged, wondering what had gone wrong this time. By the time she got there, Meg had brought up a story on CNN’s website: Ponies Created the Anomaly. There was a video and Meg started it playing.

It was exactly what she was afraid of. There she was, with Steve and Special Agent MacAuley, talking over the phone to Meg and Celestia. The picture and sound were surprisingly good, considering how far away they were. It was heavily edited, highlighting Celestia’s lack of certainty that ponies were not involved.

Senator Routledge was on next, standing in front of the Senate building: “You all heard it. Princess Celestia all but admitted ponies caused this. And you heard President Serrell’s henchman trying to pin this on humans. Humans! As if any human would have a reason to put this world—the entire world—in peril. But these aliens… yes, aliens… do have a reason—to eliminate a threat! And the president—our president—wishes to provide cover for them. If there had been any doubt before that Serrell must be removed from office, there can be none now.”

He paused for a moment. “But he is not the only traitor to the human race. Do not ignore who was in the room with the Equestrian princesses. Meg Coleman shall have much to answer for when she comes before the Senate Judiciary Committee, under oath, in two days.”

Next was the panel to discuss this breaking news. It made Twilight sick to watch. Equestrian offers to help get rid of the anomaly were dismissed by at least half of them as underhanded ploys to make matters even worse. Even the others had to admit ponies were probably responsible, because magic—just as Celestia herself admitted.

“He doesn’t let a crisis go to waste, does he?” Meg closed the browser window. “Especially one his goons created.”

Shocked expressions all around. “Say what now?” croaked Dianna.

“You heard me. That’s what Special Agent MacAuley was referring to.”

“You can’t be serious,” uttered Martin.

Meg swung her chair to face them. “Look, you don’t want to believe me? Good for you. You don’t want to get involved. Trust me.”

She stood up. “I’m going home. I’ve got a Senate interrogation to prepare for.” She started walking. “About time I took that seriously. I’m gonna take that bastard down one way or the other.” Raising her voice, she added, “Twilight, please have Rarity deliver my dress to my apartment.”

“You can’t leave now!” squeaked Dianna.

Meg had gotten halfway to the exit. “There’s nothing more I can do here anyway until we get more data.” She squeezed her pendant and resumed her equine form. “Don’t worry. It’ll all turn out fine in the end.” She threw them a forced smile. “It has to; I’ve met my future self.”

Blank looks from the remaining humans in the cavern.

“Guard! I’m leaving now.”

A guard trotted over to the door, reaching it just after Meg did. A few seconds later and the pegasus was gone.

Sunset Shimmer had come over to Twilight. “She left without a helmet light.”

“She’ll be fine. Probably. Pegasus sense of direction, remember?”

Sunset just looked at her.

Twilight sighed. “Guard? Make sure she reaches the surface safely.”

The stallion nodded and left the cavern.

The cavern had become eerily silent. Twilight found that the humans were staring in her direction. How much had Meg ever told them? Not much, from the looks of it.

“She met her future self?” asked Jerry.

“What’s her beef with the senator?” asked Martin. “I mean, apart from what we just saw.”

“She commissioned a dress from Rarity?” asked Dianna.

Everyone looked at her. “That’s what you find astounding about all this?” Martin asked.

“Considering our day job? Yes. And her beef is about the kidnapping of her niece, or did you forget that big speech Serrell made?”

“Look,” Twilight said. “I know there’s a lot you haven’t been told, but these questions aren’t productive right now. Maybe when Meg’s in a better place…” She sighed. “You know what I mean.”

Martin stepped forward. “Yeah, but time travel? Can’t we just go back in time and prevent this from happening?”

Jerry punched his shoulder. “Duh, obviously not, or they would’ve done it!”

There was nothing to do but to put this subject to rest. “That is correct. The past cannot be changed, nor is it possible to create a paradox. Believe me, I did the experiments.”

Dianna raised her hand. “And don’t forget that episode where you went back a week in time to warn yourself—”

Twilight threw her a nasty look. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Uh, right, sorry.”

Attention drifted over to Steve, asking the unspoken question.

“She needs her space right now.” The question remained unspoken. “And she can fly back to the palace… and I can’t.”

This was getting out of hoof. What would Celestia do? She always knew what to do.

Too bad I don’t.

Might as well start with what she could do. “I’ll teleport you back. We should check on the status of that lidar unit anyway.” She looked at Sunset. “What are you going to do?”

The unicorn thought it over for a moment. “I think I’ll accompany you. I want to see the anomaly for myself, and I want to see the lidar in action.”

“Shouldn’t we be there too?” Martin asked.

Twilight squinted at the humans. “I’m not stopping you. You all have cars, do you not?”

---

The guard turned around and re-entered the labyrinth of tunnels, his horn still lit. It was just as well the guard had showed up to escort her. Meg probably could have found her way to the entrance—if her mind had been free to focus on that task.

In the other direction was daylight. She got a running start and leaped into the air, rising as fast as her wings could drive her. It was a poor substitute for taking down that miserable excuse for a human being.

“Need some advice?”

Meg turned her head to the voice. Discord was flying beside her—on his side. It was bad enough when Rainbow Dash did that. “Are you actually omniscient, or do you just do a good job of faking it?”

“I try to be well informed where my interests are concerned.”

I don’t need this right now. What were the odds that his “advice” would be helpful to her? “And just what are your interests in this matter?”

A tiny paper fan was fluttering beside her now, both sides of which featured a picture of the senator’s face. “I heard what he said about me,” the picture’s mouth said, “when ‘Andy’ was being released from Tartarus. You could say I’m not… the biggest fan of his.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “That makes two of us.”

“So I gathered.” He changed back. “You will be facing him soon as a witness in the impeachment trial.”

It was so tempting to come back with a snide remark, like tell me something I don’t know. She settled for: “What’s your advice?” He was going to provide it regardless.

“To cause maximum chaos, of course!”

Meg grabbed air with her wings, halting her forward momentum. “This isn’t a joke to me!” she screamed.

Discord backtracked to the hovering pegasus. “Do I look like I’m laughing?”

“Forgive me for thinking that ‘maximum chaos’ might not be the most constructive course of action.”

“You are forgiven—if you would at least hear me out.”

The top of the mountain wasn’t that much higher, and Canterlot was just on the other side. She looked back to the draconequus, who was now seated in a hovering plush chair, paw and talon clasped, patiently waiting.

It wasn’t as if she could escape him.

“Fine. I’ll hear you out.”

He unclasped his paw and it now held a modestly sized whiteboard. With a tap the word “change” appeared at the top. “Chaos promotes change. You wish to change the fortunes of a certain senator, and there is not a more powerful tool at your disposal.”

Another tap, and another word slid into position below the first. “Chaos shields against predictability. Being predictable enables others to counter you.”

The third word flew over and landed under the other two. “Chaos underlies creativity, and you need creative solutions.”

“I sure do,” Meg muttered.

The whiteboard disintegrated into a flock of white butterflies that, after several seconds, took up position to form the final word. “Chaos is the enemy of order. Systems and organizations depend on order, and there is one organization in particular you wish to destroy.”

The Section. “I’ll have to admit that… wasn’t the worst advice I’ve heard. Still… easier said than done.”

Discord nodded. “For you, yes. Alas, my chaos magic is of no use to you in your realm.”

“It can’t just be mindless chaos; the cure can’t be worse than the disease.”

“I can assure you that my chaos is never mindless.”

Surely there were counterexamples? Like, when, the chaos he caused while Fluttershy was trying to befriend him in season three… no, he was making the point they were wasting their time. Meg decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and she resumed her flight home. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“It’s not often I hear that,” he said, then vanished.

And there was a lot to think about. For starters, what would be the non-chaotic approach? Confront her inquisitors with a bunch of facts and reason? She had seen enough televised hearings to know that would accomplish nothing. Questions were asked not to acquire information; they were asked to score points with their constituents back home. Inconvenient answers were at best ignored, and everything she said would be twisted by the spin-masters when they appeared on the news channels. Nothing would change.

And that assumed she had any say over the questions asked.

Well, she had some, from the president’s allies on the committee, but Routledge ran it.

Chaos was sounding better every minute.

---

The breeze at the perimeter had become a wind. Twilight looked around for Special Agent MacAuley, but she didn’t see him.

“So that’s it,” Sunset Shimmer said. She held a hand to her face to block out the late afternoon sun.

“Sure is,” Steve replied, likewise shielding his eyes. Both had elected to cross over as humans, the better to use human scientific equipment. “We should find the lidar and get it set up.”

It was hard to tell if the crater at the bottom had grown larger; presumably it had. Perhaps a different perspective was called for. “While you’re doing that, I’m going to look at it from above.”

“I’m sure there’s aerial drone footage we can look at,” Steve said.

She forgot they could do that. “I’d still like to see it with my own eyes.”

Steve shrugged. “Suit yourself. Just don’t get sucked in.”

“I’ll be careful.” And have the return spell on a hair-trigger.

Twilight took off. As she gained altitude, she scanned the ground looking for MacAuley. But by the time she thought she might have seen him, she was too high to be sure. Maybe it was enough for him to see her; he’ll seek her out when she landed—though she did notice a large crowd of humans at a distance, being held back by what she assumed was law enforcement.

Not before she was as high up as the perimeter was horizontally distant from the anomaly did she begin to fly over to it. She assumed that right above the anomaly the air was flowing down as fast as it was flowing across the perimeter at ground level, and she compensated accordingly.

She was over it, and she flew in a circle compensating for the downward draft. Looking straight down she saw… dirt? The floor of the building had been sucked up, that much was clear. But she wasn’t quite seeing unobstructed ground either. The substance of the building’s floor was still there, just… dispersed? The expansion of space would do that if it was fast enough to overcome the material’s tensile strength. It was almost certainly strong enough to overcome gravity—or maybe it was the hurricane force winds at the boundary.

She shuddered to think of what had happened to any persons inside. How many?

Twilight circled once more, then she aimed for her starting point; she had seen enough.

An unpleasant, high-pitched buzzing sound grew louder. She had heard a sound like that before, at the Parthenon. There was a drone in the air with her, and it was approaching. Her ears locked on to it, and her eyes followed. There it was. Who was controlling it?

It was heading right for her. Fast.

She knew the operator could see what the drone “saw.” Nonetheless, it wasn’t changing direction, so Twilight did.

The drone altered course—to intercept her once again.

This wasn’t an accident.

Twilight waited until it was seconds from colliding with her and then teleported to where the drone just was. She watched as it flew away from her. Was that it?

No. The drone curved around until it was on a new collision course.

Whoever it was clearly meant business. Twilight’s jaw set, and she prepared to telekinetically crush its propellers.

No. It was evidence.

Once it got close enough, she tracked it with her magic. A little bit closer… She magically grabbed it and invoked the return spell.

Back in her residence, she telekinetically held it in place, ears flattened against the noise. The drone didn’t fight her, not really; its operator could no longer communicate with it, control it. She spotted the on/off switch and she switched it off. That did it. The propellers spun down, and the noise subsided.

Spike appeared at the railing upstairs. “What was that?!”

“Everything’s under control, Spike.”

“Is that a human-made drone?”

That had been asked by Yearling, who was at the door. “It sure is,” Twilight responded.

“That was what was making all the racket?” she asked.

“Uh huh. Sorry. I didn’t have many options.”

Yearling walked over to inspect the drone. She had seen the one used in Athens, of course. This one was a bit bigger, a more serious looking machine—if that made any sense. Twilight was quite sure a high-speed impact would have left a mark on her.

Twilight’s phone rang. She got the phone out of her saddlebag. It was Sunset. She accepted the call. “I’m fine.” That prompted Yearling to look up at her.

“What happened?”

“A drone tried to ram me. I captured it intact.”

“Special Agent MacAuley here. Can you bring it to me? We may be able to trace its owner.”

They could do that? “Sure. I’ll return in a minute.”

“I suggest you drop it off then immediately return to Equestria. I cannot guarantee your safety at this time.”

Twilight looked at the drone. This threat may have been removed. Were there others, from that crowd she saw? “What about Sunset Shimmer?”

“No one knows she’s an Equestrian right now.”

Because she’s currently human, of course. That she could be a human was not widely known; it was the perfect camouflage. “Are you okay with that, Sunset?”

“It seems safe enough for me and Steve. I’ll call you when we’re ready to return.”

Twilight wanted to see the lidar in action, to help gather data on the anomaly’s internal geometry. She was perfectly capable of keeping herself safe, if necessary. But what about the others? They currently lacked magic. All she’d accomplish by being there was to attract the attention of the wrong people.

Sure, she could be invisible—but that would complicate interactions with the others.

She sighed. “Okay. I’ll be waiting.”

The call ended.

Yearling was still looking at her. “Trouble?”

Twilight frowned. “I guess you could say that. That anomaly is causing a lot of anti-pony sentiment.”

“Don’t forget Knossos is an option. We’re still getting the red carpet treatment.”

Maybe this was the excuse she needed. “Maybe I will—but not right this second.”

“I’ll look you up when I return—uh, by the way, that’s why I’m here right now. I need one of those pills. It’ll be dawn soon in Greece.”

“Be right back.”

As Twilight went to get one of those plaid pills, she thought about Sunset and how being human allowed her to hide in plain sight. If only she could transform herself into a human, she could be there with them right now. What stopped her was the fear that the Element of Magic would not survive her transformation into a magic-less creature. The same applied to the other Element Bearers.

But she remembered what Future Meg had told Present Meg, that no harm would come to the Elements. That she and Meg would figure out how to prove that, by creating a time loop that would result in a paradox if it wasn’t true. Or something. It wasn’t obvious to Twilight how to do that. Paradoxes were impossible regardless, and you couldn’t force something to be true just because it’d be a paradox if it wasn’t. The time travel spell would simply fail, avoiding the paradoxical time loop.

As Yearling took the pill and vanished, Twilight decided it was time to talk to Meg about it.

Comments

[TwilightPB]

It's been a pleasure reading these as they come out - I'm beyond eager to see where things are heading!! It's almost painful waiting for each chapter