Imperatives

by Sharp Quill

3. Shake the Box

An elevator dinged in the distance.

Meg grimaced. The program to zero out all unallocated blocks on her ancient computer wasn’t done yet. Yes, the technology was archaic, but did it really need to take so long to erase a few terabytes?

Maybe it wasn’t them. It was still a bit early. But who else could it be? Unfortunately, she didn’t really know how it all went done; her younger self hadn’t been here. It had to be pieced together from what limited sources they had. The important bit was that she would after a week or so inexplicably escape their clutches. How she would accomplish that was obvious.

A solid clunk reverberated through the empty cubicles from a key card being scanned. Meg stared at the monitor, sighing. It didn’t really matter; the files she had deleted had been sufficiently obliterated. The entire disk was encrypted, naturally, but that was irrelevant. As the the old joke went, any encryption could be defeated with a five dollar wrench, and her plans did not include resisting interrogation—much, anyway. Gotta keep it believable.

The front fire doors slammed shut.

Meg killed the program and erased any evidence of its existence, and from the screen the telltales of its execution. It would have to do. There wasn’t much that could be recovered, and so much was still there to be found that they’d never suspect more had once existed.

And if that somehow turned out not to be the case, well, she would play it by ear. There was no historical evidence they had recovered the deleted files.

She pretended to work on some code and waited.

It was not a long wait.

---

The closed door to a familiar tea room loomed before Meg. Inside that room was her President, waiting to speak to her. She wouldn’t be alone; Twilight and Luna were in there too. For all the good that would do her. This wasn’t really their problem.

Wings twitched uneasily.

She forced them to be quiescent. But it made her aware she was equine.

That would not do. She would face her elected leader as a fellow human.

One pendant squeeze later, her hand hovered in front of the door. Nothing could be heard. That was to be expected, of course. The best privacy spells in existence guaranteed that.

Get it over with, she thought with a sigh. She knocked.

Immediately the door glowed lavender and opened. Meg entered. The door closed behind her, and Twilight’s horn stopped glowing.

Everyone was looking at her, especially Serrell.

“S-sorry I’m a bit late,” Meg lamely uttered. There was only one chair and it was occupied. She went for the pillow opposite Serrell and sat cross-legged on it. It would have to do.

“It’s alright, Meg.” Luna gave her best reassuring smile. Still not as good as Celestia’s, but every bit helped. “We all understand how difficult this is for you.”

All? Her eyes met the President’s eyes. Nothing there to contradict Luna’s statement.

“I had assumed…” He tried again. “Are you not a pegasus here in Equestria?” He hastily added, “Not that that has any bearing on the subject at hand.”

Meg looked down at her hands. “At hand,” she repeated. “I guess so.” She dropped one hand and with the other lifted her pendant. “I can be whatever I want whenever I want, thanks to Twilight.”

“In Equestria, that is,” Twilight added.

“Yes, but only in Equestria,” Meg said. “I figured being human was appropriate given the topic.”

Serrell shrugged. “Whatever makes you most comfortable. I have been informed of your intentions, but here’s your opportunity to express it in your own words.”

This was it; what should she say? She could trust Luna to have faithfully passed on what she had told her. The fact that this was happening proved Luna had been right, that Serrell was receptive.

But receptive was not approval.

Meg decided this wasn’t the time to beat around the bush. “I want to take Routledge down for what he did to my niece. That is the only reason I’ll subject myself to the crap I’ll have to endure by testifying at your trial—no offense…”

“None taken. Believe me, I thoroughly sympathize.”

And now to blow the bush into smithereens. “And if to do that I have to use information that you have classified, then so be it. I think the time for secrets is over—and quite honestly, they are not your secrets.”

Serrell looked more tired than anything else. “I can’t realistically stop you; I can’t even say you’re wrong. But I must minimize collateral damage. Do you disagree?”

“No, of course not.”

The President got up and drifted towards the panoramic window. He gazed at the unusually bright star near the horizon. “This insanity has to end somehow.”

His gaze shifted to the moon. Eventually, he turned around to face the table.

He addressed the other human in the room. “What, specifically, do you intend to reveal?”

“That I was the one who documented the kidnapping of my niece, and that I used time travel to do it. I may also point out that time travel occurred in a second season episode.”

He nodded. “That has been a sticking point, how those photos and video were obtained. Obviously expensive movie-magic fakes—if not actual magic fakes—so they claimed.” He waved it away. “Unfortunately, it’ll take more than your word to take him down. You’ll just be accused of perjury. Another federal crime you’ve allegedly committed.”

But what had she got besides words? It wasn’t as if she could take them all on a trip through time! What was I thinking? But there had to be something she could do!

Serrell returned to his chair at the table and wearily sat down. “Regardless, we need to shake the box, to break out of the rut we find ourselves in. Let’s not forget that it isn’t just about Routledge. Too many still insist ponies are just photorealistic computer-generated fakery, created for some nefarious purpose. And of those who concede ponies are real, too many believe they must have evil intent—starting with the creation of propaganda in the form of that cartoon. That’s what this trial is really about.”

The cartoon. It always boiled down to that cartoon. It’s why so many believed colorful ponies can’t be real, while so many others are convinced they’re real but up to no good. If it had never existed, then this would have been a normal First Contact situation—whatever that meant given that it also would have been the first First Contact situation. She gave Serrell an imploring look. “Still nothing on the cartoon’s origins?”

He raised his hands in defeat. “We’ve questioned everyone associated with it going all the way back to G1 in the eighties. Nothing.”

“Maybe I should’ve talked to some of them myself,” Twilight conceded. “I had my reasons at the time, avoiding potential time loops you know, but…” She gave a wan smile. “A little late for that now.”

“It would have convinced the doubters among them that you are real,” Serrell said, “but beyond that it wouldn’t have accomplished much.”

Meg stared at her reflection in the table. “I know time travel is involved somehow.”

“That may be,” Serrell said, “but how? It’s not like there was a mysterious package left on someone’s doorstep.”

There was no answer to that.

Twilight broke the silence. “Perhaps a change of subject is needed. Are you aware that Andy has been invited to visit his old home at Knossos?”

“As a matter of fact, I was going to bring that up myself. There’s a small problem: he doesn’t have a passport.”

Twilight looked confused. “So give him one? I think I may need one too. He’s invited me to come along. Actually, make that two. A. K. Yearling will also be coming along.”

Wait. What?

Now Serrell looked confused. “Does not Equestria use passports?”

“Not under normal conditions,” Luna replied.

Serrell took a breath. “I’m sorry, but I cannot help you with that. We can only issue passports to citizens, which none of you are. For you and Ms. Yearling, the solution is simple: create an Equestrian passport and issue it to yourselves. You have the authority to do that, I assume.”

“Sure, but what about Andy?” Twilight asked. “He was never an Equestrian citizen, and even if he was, well, we would’ve stripped him of citizenship.”

He tapped the fingers of one hand on the table. “It is what it is, I suppose. We’ll work something out with the Greeks. They invited him, after all, so they’ll just have to deal with it somehow. And I’ll make sure they know two ponies will be accompanying him. With Equestrian passports. They don’t have to accept them, since they have yet to officially recognize you—nor has the E.U.—but I’m sure Andy can help persuade them to let you in.”

Twilight finally noticed Meg’s shocked expression. “I guess I ought to have mentioned it sooner? Do you want to join us?”

“Me? No. I’m fine. You go enjoy yourselves. Besides,” she added, looking at the President, “Greece has an extradition treaty with the U.S., right?”

He nodded. “Almost certainly. I can get back to you on that if you wish.”

“That’s okay. I’m not going. I need to rethink about testifying in front of the Senate.”

“I can put you in touch with a trusted advisor, if you’d like.”

It couldn’t hurt. And there could be committee members who are on Serrell’s side. They could be counted on to ask favorable questions. This advisor could even arrange for that.

It wasn’t “cheating,” she reminded herself; it was how the stupid game was played.

If she actually went through with it.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she finally said. Her crossed legs were starting to hurt. “Do you need me for anything else?”

Quick glances across the table. “I do not believe so,” Luna said.

Meg stood up, relieved to get out of that awkward position. “I’ll let you know what I decide,” she said, and she left the room.

---

There was a secluded spot in the royal gardens. Meg had already checked to see if they could use it that evening, and they could. There were advantages to being a royal advisor. Using his horn, Steve laid out a blanket, then Meg placed the basket in the middle. The basket was full of produce she had bought in Ponyville.

“So I don’t know what to do now,” she concluded, after recounting her meeting with the president. She flipped the lid open.

Steve’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “You got hay?”

“Not just any hay. Aged hay.”

“That’s a thing?”

“Apparently. I couldn’t believe it either when I saw it. A bit pricey too.” She shrugged. “I figured we had to try it at least once.”

He looked doubtful. “Well, cheese could be aged, not to mention wine, but still… I mean, how do they age it? Just leave it out in the sun for a few years or something?”

“I have no idea. Didn’t ask.” She reached out and lifted a strand. “Might as well get it over with. Hopefully it’s not an acquired taste.” Into her mouth the strand went and she bit off an inch. Slowly she masticated, until a verdict could be rendered. “Not bad, actually. Definitely some subtle, complex flavors there.”

Steve followed suit. “Yeah, see what you mean. I wonder if there are hay snobs like we have wine snobs.”

“I bet there are pony wine snobs too.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re right.”

They both finished their strand of hay in silence.

“Well, I guess I’m not a hay snob,” Meg said, “because I don’t think it’s worth the money, but I don’t regret trying it once.”

“Once is enough for me too. So. I’ve been thinking. You know what would really ’shake the box’ as Serrell puts it? Create a nice big portal—”

“You know why Twilight would never agree to that.”

“Hear me out. Not a portal to Canterlot or Manehatten or any other city or town. Have it go to the middle of nowhere—I’m not finished yet—what is now the middle of nowhere. Give that spot to Discord to do with as he pleases, the condition being that anyone who visits returns unharmed. Let the pony deniers try to deny that!”

“That’s… an idea. There would have to be other conditions, of course. Like no one must be allowed to leave this—I dunno, let’s call it a ‘theme park’ for lack of a better term—leave this theme park and escape into Equestria proper.”

Steve lifted another strand of aged hay out of the basket. “Wasn’t there a fanfic about a theme park of Discord’s? And something went wrong with one of the attractions?”

“Don’t remember. Only matters anyway if Twilight approves of this theme park idea. Maybe you should forward a link to her.”

“You let me deal with book-horse,” intoned an all-too-familiar disembodied voice. “And there’s no need to concern yourselves by what some hack writer coughed up.”

Steve groaned. “What have I done?”

---

Twilight gasped in surprise.

Princess Luna glared. “I do not recall inviting you to this meeting.”

A lion’s paw waved it away. “A mere oversight, I’m sure.” He conjured up an imposing granite throne, right where Meg had previously been sitting, and conjured himself upon it in a seated position, for some reason holding an ordinary plain box. “As it so happens, I have excellent news for you all!” He shook the box until it begged for mercy.

Serrell watched in fascination, not saying a word.

Discord frowned. “Get it? ’Shake the box?’”

“I, uh, must confess I didn’t expect my first encounter with you to go this way.”

Twilight slowly shook her head. “It’s best to just let him do whatever he intends to do and get it over with. I apologize in advance for whatever that may be.”

Serrell held up his hands. “No, no, that’s okay. I’m on record as being in favor of shaking the box, and if anyone knows how to do that, it’s Discord.” He folded his hands and addressed the draconequus. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, to be completely honest—that is a key aspect of friendship, is it not? Honesty?”

“Get on with it,” Twilight droned.

“I just thought you’d like to know I was taking my friendship lessons seriously. Anyway, as I was about to say, it wasn’t my idea. I heard it from Meg’s husband—Steve, wasn’t it?—just now and I thought—”

Twilight threw him a skeptical look. “You were just talking to him?”

“More like eavesdropping on their picnic, if you must know—”

“You could use more friendship lessons.”

Serrell interrupted. “As fascinating as this is to watch, could we move on to the idea?”

Twilight rubbed her forehead. “Yes, just get it over with.”

The granite throne vanished and Discord reappeared over the mahogany table. “Imagine a theme park, where chaos is the theme.” Below him, on the table, a miniature… well, Twilight assumed it was a theme park, not having seen the human equivalent. There was a plaza in the middle, but surrounding it were… she doubted human theme parks had a pyramid shaped building that rotated tip over base. And how large was this supposed to be?

“This theme park shall be in the middle of nowhere, far away from any town or city. A portal will connect it to the human realm. Humans may visit by the thousands each day, experience my chaos, and return unharmed by their experience. Let the deniers try to deny they were in Equestria, that ponies and magic don’t exist.” An evil smile grew. “And if any ignore the warnings about leaving the premises except via the portal, I get to have some fun.”

Luna frowned. “Harming humans is unacceptable, even humans attempting to leave this ‘theme park’ of yours to enter Equestria.”

“I would have to concur,” Serrell said.

Discord dutifully placed a paw on his chest. “Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

“However,” Serrell continued, “the idea does have merit. The devil’s in the details, of course, but you are better qualified to address most of them, I’d think.”

“I can think of a big detail off the top of my head,” Twilight said. “Would ponies be visiting this theme park of yours?”

“Why not? Shouldn’t humans have the chance to meet actual ponies?”

Twilight couldn’t deny they should, nor could she deny some ponies would welcome the chance. Even she and her friends might pay it a visit. But there were concerns. “We can discuss that later, once I’ve had time to think about it.”

“So it’s a definite maybe?” Puppy dog eyes pleaded for approval.

I know I’m going to regret this. “Maybe.”

---

Up. Out. Down. In. Up. Out. Down. In. Wings and lungs synchronized. Heart racing. Cloud crawling closer, the moon rising above it. What was I thinking?

“Faster, Meg! Faster!”

Rainbow Dash was hardly breaking a sweat as she paced her.

“I.” Gasp. “Don’t.” Gasp. “Think.” Gasp.

“Don’t think. Do!”

Muscles were burning out. “I’m.” Gasp. “Not.” Gasp. “An” Gasp. “Ath—” Gasp. “—lete!”

“Neither is Twilight. If she could do it, so can you!”

That cloud, their destination, was finally visibly moving closer.

Meg started her cool down—too soon, but falling out of the sky was not an option either.

“I’m proud of you, Meg. You’re making awesome progress!”

No longer was she gasping for air. “Twilight doesn’t count, you know. Alicorn, remember? Earth pony endurance?”

“She still didn’t know how to properly use her new wings.”

The cloud was approaching rapidly now, too rapidly. She grabbed air, shedding speed, and began her descent. “Maybe you should try being human sometime and do speed typing or something, see what it’s like to master a body part you’ve had no prior experience with.”

“Speed typing?”

Dash was actually intrigued by the possibility. So long as it involves speed, Meg theorized.

It didn’t last. “Twilight won’t let us become human, you know that. I know there’s that mirror realm, but that’s not the same—at least, that’s what Sunset says.”

“It’s not,” Meg confirmed, “though I guess it’s not really that different where it counts. Anyway, it’s only temporary. My future self told me that. We just have to figure out how to prove it’s safe for the Elements. And we will—eventually. Don’t know when, though.”

Meg collapsed onto the enticingly fluffy cloud. I’m gonna pay for that.

Dash lightly touched down beside her. “I’ll let you catch your breath for a few minutes.”

Meg groaned. “No, Dash, I’m done for today. Besides, I have to visit my brother, and I’m gonna be late as it is.” The flight back would have to be a lot slower than she’d expected. “Something came up.”

“Nothing serious, I hope?”

“Don’t know; he wouldn’t elaborate. Hard to say if that’s a bad sign or not.”

But she’d be prepared for the worst.

---

Meg left the invisibility on after she arrived in her brother’s house. First thing was to determine if anything suspicious was going on. Silently, she walked into the living room—

And stopped dead in her tracks. Seated across from her brother was a tall, middle-aged woman with shoulder-length hair dyed a quite unnatural shade of red. It can’t be.

Whether this counted as a bad sign or not, she had no clue, but invisibility was not going to solve this mystery. She switched it off. “Sorry I’m late.”

The woman threw an arm behind the sofa, the better to twist her torso around, and stared wide-eyed at Meg. “A pony. An actual flesh-and-blood pony. You just arrived from Equestria?” She leaned to the side to snatch a glimpse of Meg’s cutie mark. “I don’t recognize you.”

“That’s Meg, my sister. Meg, this is Lauren Faust.”

“You actually got turned into a pony.”

“Yeah, magic, you know?” Meg carefully stepped forward. “Why are you here? How did you even find me?”

“Fair enough,” Faust declared. “Short answer: I want to see proof with my own eyes. Could you take me there, right now?”

“Only a unicorn can do that, and there are few who I would trust to do it.”

“Like Twilight Sparkle, I assume?”

“Technically an alicorn now, but yeah she’s top of the list.”

“Do you know her personally? Like, could you fetch her now?”

Meg wasn’t sure what to do. Faust had up to now conspicuously avoided any public comment on ponies being real, other than to remind everyone she had left the cartoon several years ago. She must have been questioned by the Feds along with all the others, and obviously—along with all the others—had nothing to tell them. “Why now? This time perhaps give me the long answer?”

“I’m… getting to it.” A pause. “I’ve gotten the impression Twilight doesn’t want to see me. I’ve certainly tried hard enough with every string I could find to pull.” She gave Meg a questioningly look.

Meg rounded the corner and stood in front of the sofa. “You’re not wrong, but not for the reason you’d think.”

A nervous laugh escaped. “She doesn’t want to meet her creator?”

“No pony thinks of you that way, just so you know. They didn’t even know humans existed, much less that cartoon, until quite recently.”

“And they don’t know how the cartoon became a documentary on their lives?”

Meg shook her head. “No more than you do.”

“Huh.”

“And they’re not happy about it, either.” Meg waited silently for her to continue, wondering if she should leave. Was there a point to this? Briefly she closed her eyes, amazed that she’d even consider cutting short an audience with the one-and-only Lauren Faust. It didn’t help that her flight muscles were sore and getting sorer.

“The long answer. Right.”

She took a breath. “When I first heard about ponies in the real world, I thought it was a joke. When I saw Twilight on The Late Show, I wondered how much money Hasbro paid them to promote some upcoming project. It wasn’t the first time Colbert did something like that.”

“Smaug to promote The Hobbit, I know. He even mentioned that.” There seemed no reason to mention that Meg had been backstage, in the green room, while Twilight was making her talk show circuit debut.

“Yes, he did. But Tara insisted she had nothing to do with it, and my contacts at Hasbro insisted… well, I think they were still trying to wrap their minds around it. But I couldn’t accept it. I mean, I created that cartoon. I’m no god; I do not have the power to turn a cartoon into reality.

“Then there was the whole Tirek/Andy thing, and the final straw was when you became the news. I decided to look you up, using your connection to the convention, found your brother, and, well, here we are.”

“Yes, here we are.”

“Would you mind telling me why Twilight won’t see me?”

Meg supposed there was no harm in doing so. “It’s nothing personal. It applies to everyone associated with the cartoon. The problem was that the episode scripts were being written well before the actual events took place in the real Equestria. Twilight hasn’t had the best experience with time loops, so… you know. This was before it was known that the fifth season no longer followed reality, making it irrelevant.”

Faust nodded in understanding. “It’s About Time. I guess that makes sense. But then why hasn’t she changed her mind?”

“I think she’s been reconsidering. But she’s a busy mare and I guess she doesn’t see it as a productive use of her time?”

“Could you put in a word for me?”

“Sure. I’ll mention it the next time I see her.” Meg turned to leave; she could really use that massage right about now.

“Wait.” Faust hesitated. “Would you mind if I asked a personal question?”

Meg had already taken a few steps; she did not wish to invoke the return spell in Faust’s presence. “I suppose,” she said, turning around.

“You had a choice, right? About becoming a pony?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I very much did it of my own free will. No, I’m not permanently stuck as a pony; I can change back and forth whenever I want—in Equestria, anyway, as that sort of magic doesn’t work in our universe. No, it didn’t hurt. No, I don’t have a cutie mark when human, and I’m still coming to terms with having one. Yes, it sucks not having hands, but it’s great having wings. Don’t mind the tail and ears, either.” She forced a smile. “You can tell I’ve been asked too often these sorts of questions.”

“Still coming to terms…” Faust grimaced, but persisted. “Did you choose to become a pegasus, as opposed to a unicorn or earth pony?”

“That I had no say in; the spell did what it did.”

“Do they actually work?—the wings I mean—even in our world?”

This was getting tiresome, and the wings in question were definitely hurting. “If it’s a demonstration you’re asking for, I’m afraid I have to decline. I just had a flight training session with you-know-who and I overexerted myself. But, yes, pegasus flight magic works here just fine.”

“You-know-who. As in Rainbow Dash?”

“You got it,” she singsonged. “So if you don’t mind, I really need to get going. I’ll have Matt pass along what Twilight decides.”

Meg didn’t wait. She invoked the return spell, letting Faust see her disappear into thin air.

Comments

[Powerdrainer]

another awesome chapter. Eagerly awaiting the next upload.

[Average_NZ_Bronie]

gasp! a wild update

[TwilightPB]

YESS!!!!!!!!! God, I remember first reading Destinies almost a decade ago. So thrilled to still be here for the conclusion of this journey.