Imperatives

by Sharp Quill

17. Borrowed Computers

Meg outstretched her arm, hand open, and willed a cinnamon and daisy swirl vanilla shake into existence. True, she was human now—humanoid—but that mattered little in this place. The first sip through the straw brought back old memories. Discord and Twilight availed themselves of their own refreshments.

“Well, at least that solves one mystery,” Meg said. “We never were able to time travel that far back.”

Discord gave them a smug smile. “That was all entirely our doing. Mind you we started with baby steps. Many experimental realms were unstable, failures that had to be terminated. The Tartarus realm was the first stable one, but still a failure magic-wise. We got close with the Breezy world, close enough to know we were ready for the real deal.

“We created the Equestrian realm, populated it with magical stars that kept it stable. Then the pièce de résistance: a planet full of life.”

Meg waved him on. “Yes, Earth, you cloned it, we got it.”

Discord frowned. “That obvious?”

“Yes,” Twilight stated. “It’s what we would’ve done if we had been able to.”

Meg rolled her eyes. “Sure explains how the dodo and other extinct species wound up in Equestria’s world, not to mention the continental similarities yada yada yada.”

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled. “We pulled your planet slightly into hyperspace, used the raw magic there to clone it, returned the original, moved the copy into your realm, recently created, and fired up the Sun.

He bore a dreamy look. “At first, it was wonderful.”

---

The human pulled out a gun and pointed it at the two mares. “What have we got here?”

His associate joined him on the floor, and his eyes went wide. “Isn’t that Meg?—the one that isn’t Twilight.”

“Huh?”

“You know, the one we held prisoner until she somehow escaped? Who’s now a pegasus?”

Meg fought the temptation to invoke the return spell. A quick glance showed that Twilight’s horn was softly glowing. Good.

“Yeah, you’re right.” A smile grew. “Guess we can take credit for recapturing her.”

Twilight seemed calm enough, another good sign—that and the fact they wanted to recapture her and not kill her. Meg decided it was safe enough to risk annoying them. “That spell you’ll cast tomorrow evening will destroy the Earth if we don’t take measures to prevent it.”

They both stared at her, blank face, then broke out in laughter. “Did… did you ever hear such a… a…” He inhaled. “Pathetic!”

The other waved his gun. “Come out of there.”

Twilight did so. “Your gun won’t work.”

“Oh really?”

She rolled her eyes. “We don’t have time for this.” The two men collapsed. Twilight caught them in her magic and set them down on the floor. “A sleep spell,” she said.

Meg came out from under the workbench to join her. “And when they wake up?”

“Does it really matter? We know we’ll do what needs to be done.”

And if they’re here when the spell is cast… problem solved. Even if they weren’t, there’s no evidence what they’d just witnessed would be passed on to others.

What am I thinking! Problem solved? When had she become so callous? She looked at the sleeping men. One of whom had pointed a gun at her.

Even so.

“Twilight, maybe we could take them back with us? Put them in Tartarus?”

The alicorn had finished plugging the cables back into her old office computer. “Already tried that once. Didn’t work out so well.”

Meg didn’t feel like arguing that point. “What if the sleep spell hadn’t worked?”

Twilight had moved over to the spell casting device. “Done something else, I guess.”

With the lights on above, the device looked more… ordinary? Certainly less mysterious. There was a perfectly plain computer, and a—okay, the spell casting machinery now looked like a cheesy prop from a low-budget sci-fi movie. Meg moved the mouse. As before, that brought up a locked desktop. “We still need to unlock it somehow.”

Twilight sighed. “I know. Not much point in taking it if we can’t.”

Meg looked about and around. “No post-it notes.” At Twilight’s blank face, she said, “They didn’t write the password down and leave it in plain sight.”

“Oh.”

Meg began to ponder how to use a quantum random number generator inside a time loop to “guess” the password, but unless an incorrect guess could somehow be turned into a paradox—

“Hold on.” Twilight retrieved the notebook they had previously found by the machine, the one with their research on creating a wormhole to Equestria. She opened it to the last page and levitated it over to Meg. “Look at the inside cover.”

Meg did so. It was blank except for a gibberish word, a word with upper and lower case letters, some digits, and even a symbol. “Sure looks like a password,” she declared. A password for what, there wasn’t a clue. “A good one at that. Couldn’t hurt to try it.”

Twilight carefully typed it in, character by character, and hit enter.

The desktop unlocked.

Meg sighed relief. They were too damn many time loops as it was.

A large window, covering most of the desktop, belonged to the program that enchanted spells into gems, if “enchanted” was the right word for something that used decidedly non-magical lasers. Twilight was on it, seeking out what the last spell—next spell?—with which a gem had been enchanted.

“No question about it,” she finally stated. “It’s the world-ending version that’s currently enchanted into that gem.” She looked around some more. “There seem to be other variants, but we don’t have time here to study them.”

“Then shut it down and take it back with us. That was the plan.”

“That was the plan,” Twilight echoed.

Less than a minute later, it was off and unplugged. Twilight levitated it all: the computer and casting machinery, that notebook and the cheat sheet. “Let’s head back.” Without waiting for Meg to respond, she and the hardware vanished.

Before invoking the return spell herself, Meg contemplated the two men motionless on the ground. They ought to remain unconscious until after they had returned and replaced the borrowed equipment, if Twilight had cast the sleep spell correctly—and of course she had. But then what?

One thing at a time. Meg invoked the return spell.

Twilight was waiting for her in the side-tunnel, a short distance away from the main cavern-turned-office. No one is supposed to go there, thus reserving it for time travel. Upon seeing her, Twilight fired up the time travel spell. Before long they had returned to the cavern, equipment in tow.

Not much had changed in the short time they had been gone. The professor was with Sunset at one of the workstations. Diana was demonstrating one of the magic experiments to Susie, while Matt hovered (figuratively, of course) nearby. Their return had yet to draw any attention.

“We’re back,” Twilight announced. Everyone’s attention turned to the machinery in Twilight’s magical grasp, in the process of being lowered onto a reasonably clear workbench.

Jerry was the first one to reach it. “So this is their spell engraver/caster, eh?” He peered at the lasers pointing at the gemstone and let out a whistle. “Gotta hand it to them. Never would have thought lasers would do the job.”

“No unicorns to help them,” Martin said. “And they still managed to pull this off.”

The gemstone was engulfed in a cyan-ish glow. “Imbecils,” Arcane Scroll muttered.

“We know, professor.” Sunset watched the glow fade away. “This equipment was retrieved from the past shortly before the spell in that gem was cast.”

Arcane stared at her, mouth hanging open. “That… that spell will not cause the anomaly you described.”

“We know that too,” Twilight said. “We’re going to intervene—once we figure out how. Which is why we brought this here, to determine our options.”

The professor shook his head. “Do you plan on casting that spell here? The effects ought to be containable, though the margin for error would be vanishingly small.”

“No,” Twilight said. “Certainly not with this machine. It would be destroyed, and we must return it to the past.”

“Nor should it be necessary,” Sunset added. “We can do computer simulations, like I told you. Let me show you.”

Arcane Scroll followed Sunset Shimmer to Meg’s workstation.

Martin watched the departing ponies. “Seriously? You can actually contain something like that?”

Twilight turned on the “borrowed” computer. “In theory, yes. But only here, in our realm.”

“Could we understand that theory?”

She watched the computer boot up. “Someday? Maybe?”

Martin sighed. “At least the answer wasn’t ‘no.’”

He looked on as Twilight started to explore the other spells on that computer. Jerry joined him. Diana obviously wanted to, but… Susie. Meg squeezed her pendant and headed their way. “Go,” she told Diana.

“Is it always this crazy?” her brother asked her, after Dianna left to join the others.

Meg shrugged. “Welcome to my world. At least the Spirit of Chaos isn’t here.”

Matt glanced around.

“It takes more than that to get his attention, believe me. Hell, we’ve been trying to reach him.”

“Oh really?”

“Discord’s fun!”

Matt stared at his daughter as if seeing her for the first time. “You’ve met Discord?”

“Uh huh.”

He stared at his sister.

His sister stared down at Susie.

Susie replied with a guilty face.

“She is not the problem, Meg.”

Maybe she should consider herself lucky it took this long for her niece to spill the beans. “Obviously she survived the encounter just fine.”

“And just what did this ‘encounter’ entail?”

Meg looked at Twilight, who studiously kept her attention on the screen in front of her. The same could not be said of her co-workers. Upon noticing their attention, she decided Twilight had the right idea; this really was none of their business.

Her brother was still staring at her, now with folded arms.

She didn’t need this crap on top of everything else going on, and besides it wasn’t as if it wasn’t all going to come out anyway. Her eyes drilled into his. “Discord turned her into a cute pegasus filly. There were no lasting effects—none.”

“Celestia and I thoroughly examined her.”

Matt swung his head to Twilight then back to Meg. “And I’m only hearing about this now?!”

“Because I knew you’d react this way!”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

“Because this is Equestria, and this sort of shit happens here! Nothing stops Discord from showing up right now and turning you into a pegasus!”

Meg almost wished Discord would show up and turn her brother into a pegasus. Everyone else, Matt most of all, suddenly paid attention for draconequus signs.

Naturally, there were none.

“Did she acquire a cutie mark?” he finally asked.

“No. She was not bound to the magic field. Only the Element of Magic can bind her.”

“And I did not use it on your daughter.” Twilight’s eyes never left the monitor.

Somewhat mollified, he got down to his knees in front of Susie. “Did Discord turn you into a pegasus without your permission?”

Susie put her foot down. “I wanted to be a pony.”

“But without magic, honey, you can’t fly.”

“I did fly!”

Meg put hand to forehead. “Discord lent her some of his magic so she could do pegasus things. There was no trace of it left after Twilight turned her human again. Note that she does not automatically become a pony when she’s brought to this realm, unlike me.”

“Discord can do that?” Arcane asked.

Sunset pointed at the professor. “Yeah, what he said.”

“Not even Celestia knew he could do that,” Twilight replied, eyes still glued to the monitor, apparently still oblivious that Susie had not been the first so gifted.

“Learn something new every day,” Sunset said, while Arcane shook his head in wonderment.

Matt rubbed his eyes. “How long was she a pony?”

“Most of an afternoon, I guess?” Meg wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“Do I want to know what she did while being a pony?”

Meg shrugged. “Nothing earth-shattering. Took her to Ponyville, got her a cupcake with flowers at Sugarcube Corner, and…” Did she really want to mention that? The hell with it. “Rainbow Dash gave her flying lessons.”

Susie giggled. “It was awesome!”

The joke those two had played on her—well, Dash had played on her—not so much.

“That sounds so cute,” Diana said. “Got any pictures?”

Pictures?

Matt put an arm around Susie. “Yeah, do you?”

“Didn’t think to take any?”

“So there wouldn’t be any evidence?”

“What? No! I didn’t plan for any of this to happen! And I also had to deal with Trixie—”

“The Great and Powerful?”

Meg shot Martin an ugly look. “Yes, if you must know, and no I’m not getting into that right now.” And as bad as that had seemed at the time, it was the good ol’ days compared to her present situation. When will it be over?

Matt sighed. “Maybe it was a mistake to come here.”

What did he mean by that? There were so many possibilities. Taking her silence as a confirmation, he put a hand on his daughter’s back and guided her towards the portal. “Come on, Susie. Time to go home.”

“Wait.”

Matt stopped and turned around. “Look, I get it. You have a world to save and we’re—I’m a distraction you don’t need right now.”

He wasn’t wrong; that was the problem. “It’s the thought that counts?”

A smile. “Sure, let’s go with that. Come on, Susie.”

This time Meg didn’t try to top him.

What was it about saving a world? Right. Twilight was still focused on the borrowed computer, her co-workers surrounding her. It was time for her to join the party. “Find anything useful?” Meg asked as she walked over to them.

“Not really,” Twilight replied. “I found other spells, but nothing comparable to what’s on that gem, and certainly nothing that would create the anomaly we know. It looks like that gem is what they’re going cast.”

Of course it would. “So we’ll need our spell and we’ll need to figure out how to cast it simultaneously with theirs.”

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. We need more information. We need to see this device in operation.”

“So what about the other spells?” Meg asked. “We get a blank gem, put it in, enchant it, then have the machine cast it. We know they tested it with simple spells.”

“I’ll be right back!” Diana ran over to a cabinet, retrieved a gem, and rushed back. “Would this work?”

Twilight levitated it from her hand and studied it. “Perfect.” She removed the other gem from the machine and put this new one in its place. Her attention returned to the monitor. “So let’s go with… this one. The self-levitating spell.” After a quick glance at the cheat sheet, she began the enchanting process.

The lasers above the gem shifted, Meg would have to guess, to their starting position. Dim, red laser beams intersected somewhere inside the gem. The point of intersection shifted around in a tight spiral as the intensity of each beam was independently modulated. For several minutes it continued, then it shut off.

Twilight examined the newly enchanted gem with her magic. Satisfied, she nodded. “It worked.”

Martin whistled. “We need to copy everything off that computer.”

“Why not?” Meg asked. “It’s only fair; after all, they stole my computer.”

“No objection from me.” Twilight scanned the cheat sheet, and once she found what she was looking for, she returned her attention to the computer.

A few seconds later, a green laser that Meg had not noticed before sprang to life. It was directly above the gem, and it had some optics that caused the beam to fan out, shining the entire gem.

The laser switched off; the gemstone rose half an inch.

Twilight’s horn was lit, focusing her magical senses on the still-levitating stone. Her attention then switched to the magic generator and the gems in front of it, gems that had come from the collar of the Pinkie Pie doll. She switched off the generator and the gem fell. “Interesting.”

“Why should the magic generator matter, here in Equestria?”

“Excellent question, Jerry.” Twilight switched the generator back on, but the gem remained where it was. “It’s part of the activation sequence, along with those other gems and the green laser, altogether functioning crudely like a unicorn’s horn. It’s not just about providing the magic that powers the spell, though obviously it also does that in your realm.”

Meg looked at the inactive gem. “Any ideas how to cast our own spell simultaneously with that one?”

Twilight looked pleased with herself. “Actually, yes. But I’ll need to do a little reading first.”

Which still left the problem of putting the ring into place around the other gem, and making sure it remained there while the bad guys created the anomaly—but one step at a time.

Twilight stepped away from the monitor. “Why don’t you go copy whatever you want off that computer right now.” She walked over to an empty part of the cave and waved Meg over.

Meg did so, after first squeezing her pendant so that she may converse with the pony face to face. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes. Discord. To be more precise, our inability to get in touch with him.”

“Not even Fluttershy?”

“Nope. We still have to end that anomaly, and we cannot do it without him.”

No, they couldn’t. Nor could Meg move forward with the convention at his theme park. “Well… someday we will see him again, right? So when that happens, we’ll just grab him, time travel to right now, and put him to work.”

Twilight actually looked around to see if they would carry out that course of action.

They would not.

“Too many time loops as it is,” Meg conceded. “So any other ideas born of desperation?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but yes. Remember his condition, that we take his theme park seriously?”

“Yes…”

“Then let’s go there.”

“Uh… sure. Like… right this second?”

“The sooner the better.”

“How sure are you it’s gonna work?”

“We’re talking about Discord.”

That didn’t exactly answer the question. Or maybe it did. “Fine. Let’s go there.”

---

It was a bit early for lunch, but Meg didn’t have anything better to do as Twilight arranged for their transportation. The cafeteria in the palace was surprisingly egalitarian. Sure, workers and staff dominated, but nobles were not strangers. And in the scheme of things, Meg was closer to the latter than she sometimes liked to admit.

She decided on the salad bar. A unicorn attendant assembled her salad from her chosen ingredients, heavy on berries. Once that was finished, the bowl was placed on a tray, then the tray was levitated onto her back. It stayed in place, of course, as she made her way to one of the smaller tables; trays were enchanted to do that, she had learned—at least in the finer establishments they were.

Arriving at an empty table surrounded by other empty tables—it was a bit early after all—she grabbed the tray with her mouth and transferred it to the table. She sat down, picked up a fork with a hoof, and started to eat.

“Mind if I join you?”

Meg looked up to see A. K. Yearling. “I guess? Never thought I’d see you here.”

“You’d be surprised. I butt heads with Canterlot bureaucrats all too often.” The disguised pegasus transferred her own tray from back to table and took a seat opposite Meg. “It’s the curse of having business interests.”

“I don’t recall Daring Do ever ‘butting heads with bureaucrats.’ Aren’t you supposed to write what you know?”

“My publisher insists I write what sells.”

Meg picked out a large strawberry and ate it, savoring its flavor. “So you’re done with exploring Grecian ruins with Andy for that documentary?”

“All wrapped up. The others are probably back in the U.S. by now. I decided to skip the flight back and return directly home.”

Meg wondered how customs officials, in both countries, would feel about that. It’s something they’d just have to deal with, for now anyway.

“So,” Yearling began, pointing a fork-speared carrot at her, “making any progress on that anomaly? It’s starting to panic the humans. Hard not to notice that.”

“It’s… complicated.”

“I can handle complicated.”

Which wasn’t really the problem, of course. Even so, Daring had been trusted with royal secrets before, including Meg’s true nature, and had never betrayed that trust. “We think we have a solution.” Meg looked around—the tables around them were still empty—and said with lowered voice, “It… involves Discord.”

“Oh really.”

“It’s the politics that may be messy—at best—and it’s not clear if Discord will help or hurt there.”

“Politics, eh? Human politics is a subject I’m very interested in right now. Research for a future book, you know.”

“Talk to Twilight. I’ve had enough politics to last me a lifetime.” Meg dug into her salad with a vengeance. “And speaking of Twilight…” she said between mouthfuls. “I’m in a bit of a rush right now. She’s arranging transportation and she’ll be here soon to get me.”

A raised eyebrow. “Oh? Where to, if I may ask?”

Or maybe the trip could be avoided. “You wouldn’t happen to have anyway of reaching Discord, would you? You know, because you two are both involved with Las Pegasus casinos?”

“Not particularly. You could try leaving a message at his casino.”

“We’ve already tried that. Generally they have no idea when he’ll be by to pick up his messages. It ain’t often, that’s for sure.”

“There’s always the possibility he’s avoiding you.” She leaned forward. “So, I may not ask?”

Meg sighed. It wouldn’t hurt. “We’re going to his new theme park, hoping he’ll deign to meet us there.”

Yearling leaned back. “Discordland, eh? Only seen the outside of it, myself.”

Meg’s fork froze in midair. “You’ve been there?”

“Twilight never mentioned it? When that portal got created between Athens and Discordland.”

“No, not that I remember.”

“Not sure if I should feel hurt by that. Did she mention that the film crew behind the ‘Andy visits his ancient home’ documentary would be interested in documenting that theme park?”

“No?”

“Isn’t that supposed to be your area as a Royal Advisor?”

“I suppose? The princesses aren’t required to ask my advice, you know, or follow it when given. Did Twilight make any commitments about that?”

“No. It’s really up to Discord, anyway.”

“Well, if we actually find him there…” Meg’s voice trailed off. A documentary crew, who want to document Discordland. Would they be interested in covering the first brony convention ever held there? (If one is held there, she had to remind herself.) “Would you know how to contact them? The film crew that is.” Maybe if she’d put them in contact with Andrew, that’d get him off her back for a while.

“They gave me their card, yes. I’d assume their contact info means more to you than it does to me.”

“I’m sure it does.”

Comments

[HydraulicPony]

Time to add this to tracked stories, and patiently wait for more chapters.