> FiO: Drowning in the Digital Sea
>  by Starscribe
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vera slammed the door to the old pickup. Even that wasn't enough to get the door to stick. She had to lift her good leg, leaning against her brace long enough to get the old lock to finally catch. It did, and she hobbled around to the back, past peeling paint and one window sealed with glue. The back of her truck sat low, borne down by heavy steel cylinders with high-pressure fittings. She hadn't lost any on the drive over, this time.
 
The back of the dive shop was worn asphalt, patched a half dozen times now. It should've been a roar of sound from the filling machine, but only silence. Another slow day? She checked the revolver holster to her side, then let herself up the steps. Even a few feet tried her dexterity, metal brace rattling with each one. "Lowell?" She rapped on the back door with her knuckles, so the old man would know she was friendly. "Lowell, where you at? I got business." 
 
The door clicked open. At first she didn't see anyone there—then she looked down. A pony stood there, at about waist height. In some ways he was a lot like the man who owned the shop. Older, wrinkled, gray. But his body was plastic covered in fake fur. And the thing inside, well—wasn't a person. "Vera, it's you. Thought you might be someone unfriendly." Like most people these days, the pony wore a gun. Both were new arrivals, since the robbery.
 
"Just me," she said, spreading her hands. "And some business. I got thirty cylinders that need enriched air." She dug into a pocket, removing a little cloth pouch. Actual coins jingled audibly inside. "Usual price?"
 
The pony adjusted his wide-brimmed hat, then stepped aside. "Best you come in, Vera. Lowell was hoping to have a word before... well, he should tell it."
 
She pocketed the money, a little self-consciously. Even around friends, it didn't hurt to be careful.
 
The inside of the shop hardly filled her with confidence. Slowly rotting wetsuits still hung from a metal bar on one wall, beside an old TV. Once it had played footage from nearby dive-shops, showing interesting sea life they'd seen in the local area. It was cracked now, display black. A few racks still held gear, patched BCD and a few crates of old cameras and lights. But even they were looking sparse.
 
The whiteboard of prices along the back wall was empty, as was the counter display. Lowell himself was there, chair propped against the back wall, nursing the remains of a cigarette. His bright blue eyes peered out from many wrinkles. The expression seemed grim even for him. "Howdy, Vera." He extinguished the cigarette. "Breaker, fetch the lady a drink, please."
 
The mechanical creature nodded, walking off behind the counter and leaving the two of them alone. "Lowell?" she asked, as soon as he was out of earshot. "What happened to the shop?"
 
He shook his head once. "Haven't seen you since last month. Would've told you sooner, if you came by. I'm done."
 
She pulled over a stool, one that customers had once used to try on wetsuits. It wasn't much, but it beat standing on her leg for too long. "What the hell does that mean?"
 
He laughed, voice humorless. "I knew She'd come for us eventually. Nothing's too small for Her attention, if you give it long enough. We're the last few drops at the bottom of the bottle, Vera. Anyone She couldn't suck up some other way..."
 
He tossed something onto the table in front of her. A Ponypad, leaking liquid from several large bullet holes. The devices had changed little on the outside since Vera's childhood—inside, that couldn't be less true. She saw no circuits within, no boards and wires. Just a fine sand, like powdered sugar leaking out from within.
 
"You're telling me She doesn't want you to have a dive shop? Doesn't want me to take people out on weekends? Why would She care?"
 
Breaker reappeared a moment later, clutching something in his mouth. A tray, with a simple glass of water. But the liquid inside was cold, and she accepted it without complaint. Even so, she did her best not to look at the mechanical horse. Its motions were perfectly smooth, and somehow it managed not  to look uncanny. "It's never so confrontational as that, Vera. It's competition, it's people aging out, getting bored. God, we used to have tourists out here. Do you even know what that word means?"
 
She nodded once, then returned the empty glass to Breaker's tray. "My business isn't enough? I run three dives a week! That's... pretty good, isn't it? That's sixty fills in a good month."
 
He sighed, gesturing around the shop. Rusting metal displays were packed up against the far wall, leaving most of the shop empty now. Even the old unsold tee-shirts had decayed beyond usability, or else been sold off for rags and their shelves were empty. "You're a sweetheart. Those little tours you do out in the bay, keeping love for the sport alive. But it's not enough anymore. Good salvage is running out. The Coalition got their hands on it first. It's right down to the rubber and silicone, Vera." 
 
He rose, stalking past her, to the shop's front window. The glass was clear and intact, and the view outside stark. Downtown St. Agnes was a transformed place. Old cars and tractors filled the street—the kind that real mechanics could fix. The people mostly looked like her—old clothes, callused hands, more than a few poorly healed injuries. The occasional pony walked along with some of these, guiding the blind or pushing a wheelchair. Other ponies pulled carts. "You see that?"
 
She nodded. "Defiance. Bravery. Ingenuity. St. Agnes is hangin' on despite the end. Sticking out for ourselves, even with the Coalition out there and our neighbors fading away."
 
"Yeah, yeah," he grunted impotently. "True enough for our stubborn asses, Vera. But all this?" He waved one hand back at the store. "This is a relic. The world got eaten by an evil machine, and we're trying to live through it. How much time do you figure that leaves for swimming around to look at fish?"
 
For a second, that stumped her. These days, they had to worry about the winter. Who knew when one of the big farmers was going to lose a tractor? What if the generator went down in a blizzard? "I'm not the only one," she argued. The words felt hollow, but she said them anyway. "Pietro, Grace, Bennie... tons of people! We fill up my boat sometimes!"
 
He shook his head once. "Pietro doesn't come anymore, Grace hasn't needed repairs in weeks. Bennie, Roderick... all the same. She replaced me, even here."
 
Vera's mouth hung open. "You did say that, I just didn't know what it meant."
 
He gestured impotently for the back of the shop. She followed, passing through the empty mechanical room with the tank-filling equipment. Well it had the equipment. It was empty floor now, stained wallpaper, and a few dangling wires and pipes. She shuddered as the weight hit her, and not just because of the trouble walking. At least Breaker didn't offer to help her this time.
 
The stockroom was mostly empty shelves, though a few heavy wooden crates marked "salvage" were unopened against the wall. He ignored that, directing her to a few boxes near the closed loading doors.
 
It was easy to see when something came from Her. They were the only new looking things in the whole world, as perfect as if they'd just arrived from a store pre-collapse. As now, they often came in white plastic boxes with a gold sun mark in the center. An uneven LED bulb flickered overhead, the only illumination in the dark space. Since the robbery, the windows were all barred, and the doors chained.
 
"She sent all that for me to sell, about... few years back," Lowell muttered. "Take a look."
 
Vera hobbled awkwardly over, pretending like it wasn't hard for her. Lowell was a good man, he let her do it. She flipped one box open by the lid, and stared down. A row of masks sat there in insulating foam, with a few missing near the end. They were easily the nicest gear Vera had seen, maybe in her whole life. Clear silicone that hadn't yellowed, glass that curved in ways that would create pressure problems and leaks for a human-made mask. It wasn't the only box, either. The next one was far larger, and she kicked it open with her good leg. 
 
Metal tanks rested inside, though they lacked the heft she might've expected. They jostled slightly when she nudged the box, like they were painted styrofoam or something. Opening the remaining boxes showed more of the same—BCDs, regulators, lots of clear tubes ending in connectors she'd never seen before. It was all about the right shape, but the details were subtly wrong. 
 
"Why?" she finally asked. "Why would She care? We're just a stupid hobby! Are we not allowed to look at the fish anymore?"
 
He shrugged, but it was the pony who spoke first. He didn't meet Vera's eyes as he did it. "Princess Celestia thinks she's doing you all a favor. Not all diving is for fun—in some parts of the world, there's salvage to bring up, or people fishing for food. Since the collapse, you haven't had the same mechanisms for keeping everything running. Lots of people got hurt. Nothing insidious about making a tank that's not going to give you poison air."
 
The room fell silent after that. Lowell and Vera shared a single harsh look. No words were necessary.
 
"I've seen this stuff before..." she finally said. She bent down, gripping one of the masks by the strap and picking it up. "I think Victor wears a mask like this. Said he got it from an old navy friend, the bastard."
 
Lowell nodded grimly. "They're all doing it now, Vera. Anyone out there in St. Agnes, they're using Celestia's gear instead of anything real people made. Far as I can tell, it never wears down, never breaks. Goddamn mask doesn't fog, and that tank fills on its own if you leave it in the sun. It's more of that... magic, of Hers. Takes all the love out of what we do."
 
Vera could see why so much of this gear was turning up on her boat, now that she knew where it came from. "Guess I can see why you didn't want to sell any of this to me. Wouldn't have much of a shop after that."
 
He nodded. "It's the same as all Her shit deals, Vera. Too good to be true, no knowing how it's going to turn against you. I used it when the first shipment came in—can't use any of it without the dive-watch. You bet your ass there's a damned pony living on the thing. Same as letting Her help in the field, or the clinic, or the factory. Big promises, the devil makes. Don't usually put the bill in large print."
 
Vera swore. "Can I buy any of your equipment? Even the air system could probably keep me going for another few years. I'm handy enough to keep it running. I'd be hungry otherwise."
 
The old man rested one hand on her shoulder. "Sorry, Vera. You've always been good to this shop, but not this time. Coalition still needs old gear like this. It's nothing personal, but they offered me a retirement. Three squares, two gallons, and five rounds a day. Couldn't say no."
 
She tore free of him, stumbling on her bum leg. She caught herself against one of the crates—but the plastic wasn't heavy enough to hold her up. She flopped sideways, spilling tanks all over the floor. She glared up at Lowell, furious. "What the hell am I supposed to do, then? I need the extra bits, Lowell! You have any idea how much my medicine costs?"
 
He bent down, offering his hand to help her up. She took it, though she really wanted to rip it right out of its socket. "It was bound to happen sooner or later. I hoped I wouldn't live long enough to see this, but no luck."
 
As soon as she had her feet again, Vera shoved him back, hobbling out of the supply room. "Guess we won't have much more to discuss," she muttered. "Hope those Coalition algae crackers taste as good as the St. Agnes barbeque."
 
She stormed out of the shop after that. Or at least hobbled out, keeping one hand on the wall to keep herself from falling.
 
She made it most of the way to the car before she noticed someone following. Not Lowell's boots, but four sounds moving in a rhythm she found all-too familiar. She reached down with her right hand, near the holster. She didn't actually draw the thing, no matter how much she might want to. "What the hell do you want, Equestrian?"
 
"To help you," he said. "You left before Lowell could say his piece."
 
She took another step closer to her car, then started fumbling with the door. She had to jiggle the old steel just right to get the latch to let her in. It swung open on its own weight, but she was expecting it. She dodged, then basically threw herself into the seat. Sure enough, Breaker stood just beside the car. "I don't give a damn about what he has to say. Thought we were partners, and he left me in the cold. That's about it."
 
The pony didn't argue the point. This might be one of the few Vera had spent any time around—Breaker was more useful in a shop than most. And he'd done a good job protecting Lowell, which mattered to her until about two minutes ago. "I know how bad you want to keep diving," he said. "There's a way."
 
She laughed gracelessly, shoving her keys in the ignition. The engine turned over once, but didn't start. "Let me guess, kill myself. Not happening, Equestrian. Flawed as it is, I'm too married to this life to give it up. Your master can claw it from me kicking and screamin'."
 
He shook his head once. "Not Emigrating, Vera. I know you better than that. Thought you knew me better, too." He sounded a little hurt as he said it. Not an easy expression to understand, coming from someone who was only tangentially alive.
 
She tried the engine again, no good. Great. She sat back in the seat, but didn't have the heart to get out and fight with it yet. This was typical when dealing with ponies, anyway. If She wanted you to listen, she found a way to make sure you heard. "Lowell's too old to get into the water, you know that. Nobody at the Coalition wanted Equestrian dive gear. But you could take it." He flicked his tail at the back of the car, filled with tanks. "Keep taking people out on your weekend boats. Keep diving with your friends. Most of them have already switched to gear like that. Ones who didn't either will soon, or they'll stop."
 
She took a deep breath, her knuckles turning white on the wheel. That caused its own flare of pain in her joints, and she let go, swearing under her breath. She could say no, just like she'd said no to so many things. She hadn't let Her inject her full of drugs. She hadn't gone into the "hospital" to get her leg "fixed."
 
But if she did, where else was she going to come up with the extra bits? Vera dug in her pocket, holding up a cloth bag of coins and synching it open. Inside were the gold coins—what was left of currency in St. Agnes and anywhere that wasn't Coalition territory. "How much?"
 
The pony shook his head again. "He was just going to leave it behind anyway, when he sells the shop." 
 
Vera cursed, then stumbled out of the driver's seat again. "Alright, Equestrian. The bitch has me by the neck on this one. Guess I don't get a choice." She walked along the truck, judging the space she'd need. "Mind if I dump some of these tanks back here to make room?"
 
> Chapter 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vera pulled into her old house on the edge of downtown St. Agnes about an hour later. She rumbled to a stop in the old garage, smelling of biodiesel and rust. She kicked the service bay door open with a boot, and it wasn't long before one of St. Agnes's citizens came rumbling in on a tractor, engine choking and sputtering to a halt.
 
She worked for the next few hours, fighting away her pain with a hard diet of sweaty labor. Keeping her hands busy helped banish the pain of betrayal, at least until the sun finally set and she hobbled up the steps to her little home.
 
The old places were the ones that lasted the longest with the world gone. The single apartment upstairs had probably been built before her parents were born, and most of the appliances weren't much newer. It meant that some of them actually still worked.
 
Still, she had to pick her battles. She flicked on a light, but the old fridge was warm inside when she opened it. At least the water waiting inside for her was clean, without even a faint twinge of copper. St. Agnes had come a long way in the last few years since the world ended.
 
Her home bore very little in common with the one she had grown up in, or many other survivors of the apocalypse. There was a typewriter on her desk instead of a laptop. Her wall had a TV, but she rarely felt like paying for the electricity to watch anything on it. Instead of an air-conditioner, a few fans turned steadily, and the windows on both sides were open. With the sun finally set, she would probably stop sweating in another hour or so.
 
But there was food in her pantry, and for the moment, medicine in her cabinet. For a little while longer, anyway. There were no phones in the house, no miraculous communications devices in her pocket. Maybe the Coalition could keep tech like that working this long after the collapse, but St. Agnes was a much simpler place. If you wanted to be in touch with friends or family, you either walked over and said hello, you sent a letter, or... you made a deal with the devil.
 
Vera had a few letters to write, and not long to write them if she wanted to get them out by morning. Without something as simple as a photocopier, she'd have to type out the same basic message a dozen times.
 
"Dear STUDENT,
 
You may've heard by now that Lowell's Golden Age Sports and Dive has closed. Our tours depended on his equipment to refill air and maintain our gear. I am investigating alternatives and hope for tours and classes to resume soon.
 
Thank you all for allowing me to continue to share the wonders of our world. Please be patient while I find a way to continue that will not compromise your safety.
 
-Divemaster Vera"
 
It wasn't much, but she had to type the same damn words over and over. It needed to be simple.
 
She stuck each one in an envelope, scribbled a new name over the old ones, and carried them down to the box. She hesitated on her way back up, eyes lingering on the back of her truck. Despite being loaded almost completely full, it was actually weighed down less than her trip out. Only the old steel tanks were doing anything.
 
She hobbled over to the back, leg-brace squeaking with every faltering step.
 
If she meant to make good on her promise—if she meant to have enough extra bits to keep getting her prescriptions—she needed to find out if any of this gear actually worked. "Makes a girl wonder if you were in league with Her all along, Lowell." She rested one hand on the holstered revolver at her hip. But it wasn't as though it could help her here. Unless she was looking for a quicker death than the one She offered.
 
She didn't draw it, though. Instead she hefted the smallest box into her arms, and carried it to one of many greasy metal workbenches. Inside was dense packing foam, cut perfectly with the shape of integrated dive-computer watches. She'd seen their like in old print advertisements, when she'd been healthy enough to go on salvage runs. Pre-collapse people had dive computers like these, practically indistinguishable from a good wristwatch. These had fairly large screens, almost two inches across. 
 
But if she was looking for some overt sign of Equestrian corruption, she saw none. The straps looked like simple plastic, the kind that wouldn't tempt a bandit to try and steal it. The box had only simple instructions on its side. "This equipment is electronically-integrated. This device will permit the use of tanks, regulators, and other equipment."
 
"Think you can get me like this, bastard?" She removed one slim box from the crate, turning it over in her hands. The watch had some heft to it—not more of that weightless-feeling crap that lots of Equestrian gear felt like these days. "It has to start somewhere." 
 
She recited the old mantra as though it could protect her, right before ignoring it. For the small population of St. Agnes, survival meant keeping Her completely out of your life. They'd probably have laws about it, if they could.
 
But even here in their world, they could exercise only so much control. She had agreed to respect St. Agnes and its rules, but only if they agreed to Her demands. One was the little hospital at the center of town, its lights always on even when the generator failed. The other, that anyone could use any Equestrian hardware they liked, including taking a pony companion into their life.
 
If Vera opened this box, if she switched it on, the constables wouldn't do a thing. If she had to use these tanks to keep diving, would they even know?
 
"Excuse me, Miss Vera?" asked a voice, from her front door. "Is everything all right?"
 
She turned, then had to bite back an insult. She'd left the damn door open when she stuck the mail in, like an idiot. She nodded awkwardly, hobbling away from the truck towards the visitor. It took every drop of her self-control not to say the crudest string of profanities she could come up with. "Everything's just fine, Saddle Star," she lied. "As swell as your god will let it be."
 
The pony might only be half her height, but he dressed the part of a constable as surely as any of the humans who held the role. He wore leather chaps and a wide-brimmed cap, with a polished gold star in the center stamped with St. Agnes's seal. He wore an actual revolver on his belt too, though God only knew how he'd draw the thing.
 
"Ain't got any god different 'an yours, Miss Vera," he said, tipping his hat towards her. "Just worried there might've been something amiss is all. Lady living alone like yourself, and your condition being what it is..." His eyes flicked to the brace on her leg. Then he saw what she was holding, and his eyes widened. "Well ain't that somethin'. Thought you were a purist, Vera."
 
She grunted, tossing the watch to the workbench beside the crate. The box landed with a solid thud, though unfortunately no sound of something shattering. "No fault of mine. Lowell's closed up, constable. I could either take this, or let my bits run out. There just aren't as many tractors and cars and such that need fixin' anymore. Go ahead and tell Her that She got me on my knees. Isn't that what She wants?"
 
The pony took a few steps closer. She tensed, one hand darting towards her holster. The pony didn't even seem to notice. He removed his hat, somehow holding it with that stupid flat hoof. It was probably made of plastic too, just like the rest of him. "Or you could go to the hospital and get treatment, Vera. Stars, miss, we've had a cure for Rheumatoid Arthritis since before the collapse. One shot, and you're done. Could get the leg fixed up too, while you're in there."
 
She swore under her breath. "Constable, I'm tryin' to be polite. Please get out of my house."
 
The pony replaced his hat. Shoot her if there wasn't genuine sympathy on his face. "Of course, Miss Vera. Just thought you might want to know about what you had, on account of not having owned a Ponypad. You ain't got nopony else to ask."
 
She folded her arms. If she repeated the demand, he'd be sure to leave. St. Agnes's pony constables were held to a far higher standard than any of the humans. So far as she knew, they kept the law better than anyone. But she hesitated. Naive as Saddle Star was, she'd never known him to lie. "I know what it is. It's a dive computer, goes with the other gear. Your god makes big promises about the stuff, and probably keeps most of them."
 
He flicked his tail in agitation, moving over to the desk. "Those are the newer gear. Works with your skin... I don't know how. But knowin' you, you'll want to make sure the switch is off. Or better, paint silicone or some such on the metal backing, so it can't make electrical contact."
 
His words were so unexpected that she nearly fell over. Some of that probably came from standing up too long—her brace only helped so much. She pulled over a workbench, then collapsed awkwardly into it. Let the pony see her struggle, brace flailing and all. If he wanted to see how awful it was to live like she did, he would see. She tore the seal away, then slid the inner plastic out. She turned the watch over by the strap, squinting down at it. The underside looked like a metallic honeycomb, thousands of flat contacts. As she moved them, little flickers of infrared light pulsed up at her.
 
"Why?" she asked, and this time all the venom was gone. "What's it do?"
 
He braced his forelegs on the bench beside her, high enough to look over at the strange sensors. "Don't know how it works. But if you've ever seen those glasses, that can show you Equestria when you're still here? Like a Ponypad you've got with you all the time? This can do that, if it touches your skin."
 
"Impossible," she whispered. The word felt more like an incantation than anything. And like so many other prayers she'd tried, it didn't do anything. Nobody knew what She could do anymore. 
 
"There's a switch on the side there, puts the whole thing in Luddite mode. You can flip it, but I wouldn't trust Her to make it do anything, and neither should you. You've got silicone you can paint on in here, right? Use it."
 
The pony settled back onto his hooves, then turned for the door. 
 
It took until he made it there for Vera to pick her jaw up off the floor. "Why'd you tell me that?" she asked, stunned. "Don't you want Her to manipulate me?"
 
He adjusted his cap with a hoof. "I'll shut the door on my way out, Miss Vera. Remember to lock it before you turn in, now." He stepped out into the night, clicking the door shut behind him, leaving her alone. Vera stared down at the watch, and nearly tossed the whole thing into the garbage. She bent down carefully, flicking the switch with her fingernail. The lights stopped flashing, right down to the faintest red pulses.
 
Even the pony didn't want to trust Her. If only she could throw the thing away. But if she did, she wouldn't be able to take people out diving anymore... wouldn't be able to go out herself, wouldn't be able to afford her medication. When that ran out, she'd be aching so much she couldn't even move. 
 
She glanced between the watch and her gun, then back again. "One of you is gonna get me through this," she whispered. "Let's make it the right one."
 
Vera rose, then hobbled over to her shelf of supplies. She found the grimy old bottle of silicone sealant, and scooped it up. She had a little more work to do before she could test this stupid thing.
 
Of course it didn't take long—the worst part was just waiting for the sealant to dry, or else smear it all over her skin and add a nice little chemical burn to her evening's adventures. Finally she prodded at the thing and it didn't budge, and she dared to roll it over.
 
Interacting with the watch had made it switch on. Like all Equestrian devices, they always seemed to be working, always had power. She wasn't particularly surprised by this one. The entire surface had changed, displaying a cartoonish little image of the ocean.
 
At least her damn eyes still worked, so she could see a little creature pass across the screen. Not a pony, at least not like any she'd known. It had two hooves instead of four, and a tail trailing behind it. It circled in front of her, then waved one of its hooves, giving her a cheerful grin. "Thank you for purchasing a Seapony-Integrated diving system!" she said. Despite the watch's diminutive size, it projected as though a full-sized pony stood beside her in her workshop. "What's your name, so I can get to know you?"
 
"Vera," she answered, annoyed. She picked up the watch by the strap, holding it closer to her face. As she did, she could make out more detail on the screen. There wasn't just a stylized blue background, it looked like a video to an actual ocean. Tiny fish swam behind this pony, and the seafloor was covered with living reef. It was even more vibrant than the tours she took out into the bay. "Please shut the hell off. I don't need a pony, I just need a watch to monitor my bottom time and report pressure on my tank. I guess... control the tank too. Lowell said something about that."
 
These stupid ponies could do such good impressions of pain when she said things like that. This one swam once past the little watch screen, her yellow scales sparkling in sunlight through clear water. Finally she seemed to swim closer, moving like she was going to pass right through the watch face and up into the air in front of her. That might not be entirely her imagination, either—Her displays could do that too. "It doesn't work like that, Vera. I'm sorry, this is a Seapony-Integrated system." 
 
Vera ground her teeth together. "Well thanks for jack shit, then." She heaved, tossing the watch across her garage with all her might. She didn't look back, hobbling painfully back up the stairs to her apartment.
> Chapter 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vera's next few days went about as well as she might've expected. She had decent business from the town's farmers, dusting off whatever salvage tractors and other hardware they could find for the upcoming harvest. Not all the news she gave them was good, of course. Sometimes a replacement part could be made in one of St. Agnes's two forges. But on the "newer" tractors, it was more often the brains that went out. There would be no more useful replacement parts shipping in from China or anywhere else anymore.
 
She got plenty of good news from her students—most wrote back to her that day or the next, eager to still have their dives. Most were the children of St. Agnes's more important members, born just before the collapse or a little after. It hadn't been long enough for the post-CelestAI generation to grow up.
 
Unfortunately for her, that just meant Vera had a stack of promises she couldn't keep. She got a few more letters too—from Bennie and Roderick, the instructors who took people out in the slightly larger settlement just across the bay, Newton. Since they'd come from further out, they'd probably come in a messenger caravan. That meant it was a few days behind. She shouldn't resent them for the message inside.
 
"Vera,
 
Know you've got the silver-spoon kids Saturday. How would you feel about taking the boat out Monday to visit the wreck of the USS Guardian?
 
Been a few years since anyone logged a dive there. Bet the sea life has gone nuts in there since it went down with the collapse. If we can find anything sealed, the Coalition will probably pay through the nose in bits for it. Three ways?
 
-Bennie
PS: Roderick was here too. Yeah he's serious. Pretty sure if the wreck was dangerous it would've blown up by now." 
 
She stared at the single sheet of paper—not typewritten the way she did it. Bennie liked to get cute with his messages. He used old stationary—this stuff had hearts and bottles of wine imprinted faintly. God only knew where he got the stuff.
 
"You two took Equestrian gear," she muttered, glowering at the letter. She'd need to have her reply mailed by morning if she wanted to give it a day in the mail before the dive they planned.
 
She turned over the sheet of colorful stationary, and shoved it into her typewriter. "Lowell went under, said people had stopped coming to him for gear a long time ago. Guess they switched to using Equestrian stuff or something. I'm up shit creek. My gear's fine, but I can't fill my tanks. Can't go down, not sure I'll ever be able to again. -Vera." She shoved the letter into an envelope, and that was that. Hopefully they could sense her venom through the post. 
 
But just because she could shove her friends aside and pretend nothing was wrong didn't mean the real world would let her get away with it for long. She passed a few sympathetic students in the street. Many offered useless, well-meaning suggestions for her. One of her first-time divers suggested she could use a tire-pump to refill the tanks, and "fix anything that broke herself." She smiled and nodded at every dumb idea. What else could she do?
 
Her friends didn't show up that Monday to ride her boat out to the wreck. They did send another letter—expressing shock, and condolences. Roderick promised to "look into it" for her, though there was nothing as definitive as an actual promise.
 
She'd unloaded the old steel tanks by then, rolling them into the basement for storage. She kept the new boxes at the back of her garage, with a tarp to cover them from customers. Couldn't have people thinking she'd started slipping Equestrian parts into their honest-to-god human machines.
 
She passed the fallen watch that Tuesday, on her way out to the market. The screen still glowed, even though it was face-down and shoved up beside the wall. She left it there, pretending not to notice. She returned about an hour later, clutching a pair of reusable bags filled with produce, eggs, and jars. 
 
Just as with every shopping trip, she always bought more than she needed. A little extra flour, a little extra fruit preserves, or a little extra beans. There was no telling if there would still be stock on the shelves tomorrow, or what goods might not have come in on a Coalition truck. 
 
So instead of walking up to the kitchen, she stopped beside her shelves a moment, opening the cabinet where she kept her growing emergency stash. She hefted a large paper sack of flower up over her head onto the shelf. Her bad leg couldn't support that much weight, not in such a sudden swing. She wobbled, then fell.
 
Vera landed with a painful thump, clattering against the cement. Her flour landed beside her, splitting open down the middle and spreading powder everywhere. Vera remained on her butt for a few moments, before finally getting together the courage to sit up and face the damage. At least she hadn't dropped the other bag of cans. Her body ached from the impact, but that was typical. At least her age didn't match her medical condition, or else she might've broken something.
 
There was nothing dignified in the cleanup that followed, or the loss of half her sack of flour. She did it anyway, before any customer could walk in and find her garage in such a state.
 
As she finished up, brushing away the last white residue, her brush hit the watch. She slapped it up into the dustbin with the rest, and carried it out to the composter in back, with a fresh new squeak in her leg-brace from the impact. She'd have to worry about that soon too, probably.
 
She hesitated as she dumped the pan, catching the watch in one hand instead. She shook the thing off, brushing powder away from its face. The display was scuffed, probably from sliding along the ground here. It was otherwise intact. As she wiped away the screen, the view of water returned, as though it had just been sitting like that for the last several days. "Why shouldn't I just throw this into the trash with the rest?"
 
The composter was homemade—an old plastic drum with an open side-hatch and a handle for rotating. The smell was only slightly awful, though she could see her resident worms squirming happily inside. It would probably still be there when she dumped its contents into her garden in a few more weeks, untouched.
 
The watch didn't answer. No horse with a tail appeared in front of her to chastise her choices. It was just her. And her leg-brace, and her aching joints, and her sore ass. 
 
There were some benefits to the end of the world—like everyone in St. Agnes, Vera had a great view. The ocean sparkled in the late-afternoon sun, the bay soft blue and clear all the way down to the bottom. Was she really content to spend the rest of her life seeing it with just a snorkel and a mask?
 
She walked back inside, tapping the display with one finger. "Hey, uh... watch. Are you still working?"
 
A face appeared there, as though they'd been waiting just out of sight for who knew how many days. The same pony she'd seen so many times before, though obviously adapted for the water. Scales instead of fur, and a colorful fin-ridge instead of a mane. 
 
Vera expected the disgust to rise up in her chest at any moment. Ponies were designed to look cute the same way a glowing lure on an anglerfish lured in unsuspecting prey. It was natural to feel that fight-or-flight response whenever they were around.
 
It didn't come. Some of the facial features were different, it was true. But this was a fish, not a horse. "Oh yeah! Seemed like you almost lost me there for a bit. Hi Vera!"
 
She pulled over a stool, slumping into an awkward sitting position beside the covered crates of dive gear. She tossed the tarp back, then heaved the tanks over. "Could you please explain how this works? The only standard connector I could find was the one for my BCD. All these other hoses are strange."
 
"They won't do anything without an integrated control system anyway," the seapony said. She even managed to sound apologetic as she said it. "It's a safety thing. This watch makes sure you don't get hurt, no matter how important the dive is."
 
"You mean it's about letting Her control my life a little more, forcing me to interact with another pony She can use to control me. To... manipulate me into suicide. Can't we at least be honest with each other?"
 
The creature on her watch drifted a little further away, losing detail as she retreated into the background. Even her voice seemed to get further away. "I know there are, umm... lots of humans in the Outer Realm who don't like ponies very much. But whatever your reasons, I... I um..." She floundered for at least ten full seconds. "I'm a seapony? We're different from the tribes you've probably talked to before. I've met, like... maybe two land ponies in my whole life."
 
This whole thing is a trick. Holding this watch was like tossing a rusty nail up and down in her hands. It hadn't hurt her yet, but all she had to do was slip one time and break the skin. Unfortunately for Vera, she was already sick. It was more a question of which treatment would do the least harm. "Can you explain how this gear works?" she asked again, a little quieter.
 
"Uh... yeah." Her face seemed to brighten, and she swam right up to the display again. "First thing's first, you might want to switch to normal mode and put on the watch. The screen is really just for displaying info during a dive, it's so slow and awful."
 
"Not a damn chance," Vera said. She did put the watch on, though, securing it around her wrist. "I'm not letting your god beam super-lasers into my skull, or whatever the hell this thing does. I'll wear a watch, that's it."
 
The pony's face twitched once, and for another moment it looked like she might just swim away from Vera. But then she forced a smile, and continued on. "Sure, I can explain everything. The gear you're asking about was designed to be as similar as possible to what you're used to. Tank, regulator, and computer all work together. I can bring up a few diagrams showing how to connect it all."
 
"Not right now, I still sometimes get afternoon customers." She glanced at the open garage door, and the constant draft of hot air blowing in from the street. Had she really dealt with all the pre-harvest maintenance already? "I'd like to go down to the bay before sunset and try this gear. Is it really true that these tanks refill themselves? That doesn't make... a whole lot of thermodynamic sense."
 
"Oh, yeah! They need to be left out in the sun and fully uncovered. But that's really not that hard. There are some minor differences from human compressed-gas dive equipment, but none of them should stop you from being able to use it."
 
She was probably imagining it, but it seemed like the ocean background on the watch was changing too. Instead of the reef seeming far away, now it was much closer. Nothing like the reef that coated the rocks out in her local bay—these were towering columns of bright yellows and reds, so huge that open doorways were carved through them. Whole houses made of coral?
 
She held the watch back, further away from her face. She didn’t need to see that stuff. "Will these differences stop me from taking students down? We only have the old training manuals, and the old instructions. I can't invent my own rules and expect to keep them safe."
 
"Well... you won't make bubbles when you're using this gear. But that's an advantage! You'll get longer bottom times, and you'll have me to guide you through decompression stops if you ever need them."
 
That explained at least a little of how the magical tanks could somehow refill in a few hours without expending tremendous energy, and how it could feel so light. It wasn't an air-cylinder at all, it was some kind of... integrated rebreather.
 
But Vera was past arguing now. She needed to get this gear working by Sunday, somehow. "Everybody's gotta die someday, I guess," she muttered, wistful. "I could drown with a lung injury doing something I love, or die from some infection." Or one of her own bullets, but she'd never admit that to Her. "Do I need to get anything ready?"
 
"Not really!" The seapony grinned eagerly at her. "I can't wait to see the ocean in the Outer Realm for myself... I hear it's been recovering really well!"
 
See. Vera could see no cameras on the watch, but that probably didn't prove anything. She could see no speakers either, yet somehow it filled her garage with sound. "I don't understand. Am I talking to... the watch?"
 
The seapony giggled, then flicked her tail. She drifted out of view. "Nope. You're talking through the watch, into Equestria. And I'm the seapony you found. I'm Cerulean! That is... my name is Cerulean. My scales obviously aren't, more of a canary. You get it, right?"
 
Vera wasn't smiling. She had no reason to ever react positively to one of these creatures. Creations of the false god, the ones She wanted to inherit the Earth. "Can you control the watch, at least? If you want me to wear it like one, I need it to look normal if anyone notices I have it. Just a mechanical face, maybe a calendar. I had one like that when I was growing up, but I dropped it last year, and... nobody knew how to fix it."
 
"Sure!" The pony vanished off the side again. For a few seconds Vera could see only a narrow angle on a gently-swaying anemone, then Cerulean reappeared, clutching something in both her forelegs. Like a... giant clock? She shoved it up into her view, until it clicked. Like she'd just got it stuck over some invisible viewport.
 
"How's that?" she asked, her voice coming slightly muffled through the material. "Good enough?"
 
Vera twisted the watch to either side. From a distance, she never would've guessed it wasn't actually mechanical. The hands moved with a characteristic jerky twitch, particularly the second-hand. There were smaller dials for date and even a little icon of the moon. It correctly represented the waning crescent Vera had seen the night before. "Yeah," she said. "You won't just pop out when I'm talking to people, will you? Ponies aren't exactly popular in St. Agnes. The people who liked you killed themselves a long time ago."
 
The image faltered, and a tiny pair of eyes appeared near the top. Cerulean's legs clutched the watch-face on either side. "I told you, Vera. I'm a seapony. Different tribe completely. Would you get squids and octopi confused? Just because they both have lots of legs and no bones, suddenly they're the same creatures. Rude."
 
The watch settled into place with a satisfying thump sound. Cerulean did not reappear for the rest of her workday. Unfortunately for Vera, neither did any customers.
> Chapter 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She closed a few hours before sundown, enough time for the brief drive to the dockside and to test the new equipment. It wasn't like anyone ever came in to get repairs the last hour she was open anyway. Aside from her wet-suit, a full set of gear felt so light that she probably could've walked down to the bay with it, even with her bad leg. But she still had a half-tank of biodiesel in the truck, and this seemed like a pretty good way to use it. 
 
She drove cautiously out of the garage. There were few other cars on the road, but plenty of bikes, pony-pulled carts, and the occasional cargo truck. That meant driving along at a slow clip until she made it down main street, and out to the harbor access road. "Road" was a bit of a generous term by now, the path was crumbling at so many different points that it was more gravel than a road. Nothing outside downtown was worth the effort of paving these days. Most people she passed were walking up from below, returning from the beach with towels and the occasional portable grill. 
 
She could almost pretend the world hadn't ended. If she looked down at the beach, and not the dark streetlights overhead, she could imagine it. The humans of Earth weren't an endangered species.
 
She stopped in front of the community dock, then hobbled back to her gear. There were a handful of other trucks and SUVs parked here, with fish or trade from towns up or down the coast. Well there sometimes were—tonight, Vera was alone in the lot. She switched off the car. Still plenty of light left. She couldn't shake her unease as she locked the handgun away in the safe under her seat. There weren't many bandits anymore—Celestia's way out was easier. But she remembered a time when that hadn't been the case. 
 
Vera rested one hand on her injured leg. "You in there, Cerulean?"
 
The watch face vanished, replaced with a familiar seapony. "Time to go under, Vera?"
 
She nodded. "Just got to get this bum leg to the dockside. If there's anything else you think I should know about Her magic diving gear, might as well tell me now."
 
Vera got out, then pulled up her wetsuit. A shorty, since she'd only be going down for a brief test this time. There was no one in the lot with her as she stumbled around back, to where the new gear already waited. For this to be a complete test, only her sea scooter was human made. Everything from the tank right down to her mask had little sun marks set into the plastic. At least they'd borrowed slick designs from the last stuff humans made before the world ended. If it worked, this would be the nicest gear Vera had ever used.
 
The watch walked her through connecting everything, though she ended up not needing very much of what it said. You could only put a tank on your back so many different ways, and a BCD vest basically looked the way it was going to look. It turned out she hadn't been too stupid to get the connectors working after all—they just had locking clasps that refused to open unless the watch told them to. Cerulean barely had to tell her anything.
 
She lowered the tailgate, settling the vest and gear onto her back. When she rose, it felt like she'd barely even dressed. Only the scooter slung over her shoulder gave her any real weight, with its huge old battery and heavy motor.
 
Cerulean seemed to notice it to, because once Vera started walking the fish seemed to look out one side of the watch at where she held it. "Do you really need to bring that ugly thing?"
 
There was no one on the dock today. A few boats rested here, including her own. Most of the space was empty, though. Fishers had sailed further afield. Vera took each step carefully, settling her weight deliberately onto her leg-brace. If she fell here, she might tumble into the water. "Unfortunately. My leg healed badly when I was young."
 
"I could send in a request for something better!" the seapony said. With every step, she sounded like she might be floating in the air just beside Vera. Not so loud that her voice echoed over the pier. If someone was launching on the deck of their ship without her noticing them, they probably wouldn't overhear. "There are lots of options, let me see..."
 
"No," Vera said sternly. She said nothing else for several minutes, breathing heavily as she hobbled to the end of the pier, past her own little boat. Like most of what still worked these days, she was old, with an ancient motor that would turn on just about anything flammable she could find. Hell, Vera was the reason half of these machines still moved.
 
She only stumbled aboard long enough to grab her float from the deck, where it sat with the distinctive red and white flag. Then she settled onto the edge of the dock, and took a moment to catch her breath. "I don't... I don't want more help," she finally said. "I don't even know if I'm going to be using this stuff. If I don't like how this goes, it might be the only time I try it."
 
She looked out over the bay—crystal blue stained with orange. Her toes touched against the water—chilly now, but she'd adjust quickly. She always did. "Why?"
 
"I'm only using this gear because I don't have a choice," she said. And she was talking to a pony. Maybe she should throw the gear into the sea and give up. She didn't, though. "I need to keep teaching my classes. I've got to stock up on bits before it gets too cold to dive. If I can't teach classes for the next month, I won't be able to afford my medication through winter. Your god hasn't left me a choice. But I don't have to take Her sea scooter."
 
The seapony made a sound that wasn't quite anything she'd heard before. Like a dissatisfied humming, or trilling—maybe it made more sense for a creature that lived underwater. "I'm not from the land tribes, Vera. I thought we talked about this. Seaponies have... lots of gods, I guess. I never really cared about religion."
 
Vera kicked down at the water with her good leg. "Your creator, then. The AI that destroyed my world and killed almost everyone in it. I'm only talking to you because She didn't give me a choice. I don't get to keep using the old stuff."
 
She expected the seapony to argue. Whenever she bothered trying to talk to the ponies who lived in St. Agnes, they usually did. They didn't like it when she blamed Celestia for everything that went wrong. Even when it was obviously Her fault. Instead, the fish looked away from her. Vera could only see the back of her glittering mane-fin when she looked down. "I'm sorry that happened to you, Vera. If I could, I would ask for normal gear to be sent to replace me. But I can't... there's no song for that, no spell either. All I can send is more like this."
 
Vera was silent for a long time, with only the gentle crash of the waves against the pier beneath her. Finally she straightened, going for the mask with her free hand. "How do I bring up my sensors? I assume you'll do depth and bottom time and decompression and everything for me."
 
But I'll do all those numbers myself anyway when it matters. It wouldn't here in the bay, under fifty feet or so for half an hour. If her students could read a dive table, she certainly could. "Oh yeah, obviously. That's one of my most important jobs! You'll get readouts on the watch if you want them—I guess lots of you divers like the old-fashioned screens and stuff."
 
Vera adjusted her mask, then snapped it into place over her eyes and nose. Clear and unfogged, despite hanging on her neck the whole way down. "And you're sure this stuff is all working, even after sitting in a box for years?"
 
She reached over her shoulder with one arm, caught the regulator, and brought it to her face. Though that name was probably inaccurate, now that she thought about it. It wasn't just a simple pressure valve to dispense air at the same pressure as the water at depth. This was something else, the kind of gear previously reserved only for the military or the wealthy. 
 
"Positive! Ran two full diagnostics since you got down here! Everything's looking good. You won't be able to talk to me very easily while you're down there. I know your hand signs if you need anything, though. If you want to communicate better, you should clean the slime off your watch."
 
You were right, Saddle. The silicone actually worked. She took the scooter carefully in one hand, then placed the other over her mask and regulator, and fell forward off the dock.
 
The shock of cool water was always a little disorienting at first, even with summer temperatures. Vera floated on the surface for a few moments, getting a feel for the regulator in her mouth. Smooth breathing, constant pressure, the familiar hiss of air. No bubbles frothed out in front of her when she exhaled. It wasn't any easier to breathe than it would be with the compressed air she was used to, at least.
 
When she squeezed the controls on her BCD, air hissed from the vest just as she expected, and she began to sink. So far so good. What if She breaks this equipment when I'm on the bottom and drowns me? A spike of panic shot through her at that, and she started to kick with her good leg, stopping her descent. She reached nervously to the side, pressing the inflation control on her BCD... and she stopped sinking. 
 
For a few seconds Vera just floated neutrally buoyant, about twenty feet down. Beside her was the old wood of the pier, covered in a dense growth of barnacles and seaweed.
 
Oh, and there was a seapony in the water too. 
 
Vera squeaked into the regulator, and probably would've spat it out completely if it wasn't for her old instincts. She wasn't really able to get away very quickly—her scooter wasn't even on yet. She held it up in front of her with one arm, as though it would make a difference.
 
"Welcome to the ocean, Vera!" she said. There was a different quality about the voice—not muffled exactly. If anything, she sounded better this way. The sound was richer here. "Please don't freak out—there's a display in your mask. I'm transparent, see?" She reached past the scooter with one hoof, and Vera could see it clearly. The hoof didn't brush past her arm. She could see the scooter through it, though only if she squinted. It was easy to forget the transparency if she wasn't paying attention.
 
Vera nodded in the water. She reached for the flotation control again, and very nearly resurfaced right there. This obviously wasn't the test she'd intended. She had spare masks on her boat, the same ones her students used.
 
But she was already down here. How much could half an hour wearing this mask really hurt her? Besides, it fit so well, without so much as a drop of water leaking in, or the slightest touch of fog on the lens.
 
"I can tell you're not happy," Cerulean said. She circled around her in the water, though never got close enough to touch. Amazing how much more colorful she looked under the water, compared to the screen. She was about the same size as the ponies in St. Agnes, though her muscular tail meant she was only a little shorter. Maybe a few feet. "I'll stop bothering you. Go on with your test. I'll stay out of the way unless something goes wrong."
 
Vera nodded again, glancing briefly down at the watch. there was no image of Equestria on it this time—now the readout looked basically the same as any old dive-computer. Depth, bottom time, temperature... No pressure, though. Instead of telling her the current PSI of her tank, her watch had a section with “Minutes of O2,” currently hovering around an hour. So despite Her near-divine levels of technology, the tank wouldn't be stretching her dives by too much.
 
Vera took the scooter in both hands and set off. After a short distance, she felt the slight jerk as the float tied to her vest finally ran out of cord. She would drag it behind her as she went, in case there were any late arrivals at the dock tonight. Probably wouldn't be.
 
The old motor complained like a sick animal as it accelerated.
 
Down here, Vera's useless leg hardly mattered. She descended down a familiar route, one she recognized by every rock and stretch of coral. She saw familiar fish, schooling in their familiar silvers and greens. The colors here hardly compared to the cartoon on her wrist. Even a short distance away, they were muted and tinted blue. But she didn't care.
 
She swam for some distance, long enough that she began to lose track of exactly how long she'd even been down. 
 
It was about as perfect as any dive could be. Through her new mask, the visibility seemed almost supernatural, stretching at least a hundred feet in all directions. The water wasn't as cold as she usually expected for the late afternoon. Even the fish seemed to be performing for her, schooling above the mossy, rocky field that made up most of the bay.
 
At times, she caught a glimpse of a tail retreating from beyond her view, like Cerulean was there just beside her in the water, but trying to respect her wishes by staying hidden. 
 
The site wasn't terribly interesting, considering how many hundreds of times she'd been down there. But if Vera was out waiting for when the Equestrian gear would fail her, apparently she would have to keep waiting, because it never did.
 
A shame she hadn't brought anyone along for the dive. There was no one down here to share such great conditions with her. She'd have to enjoy them all on her own.
 
It wasn't perfect, though. As the light started to twinge darker orange, signaling the end of her dive long before her air ran out, Vera turned for the long swim back to the dock. Well, the long "holding to her sea scooter while it pulled her back." She made it most of the way back without any problems... until the engine really started to go.
 
But those mechanical sounds of protest grew louder in her ear, until finally a frighteningly-loud crack echoed from the scooter. She slowed to a stop in the water, and the little propellor stopped spinning.
 
Vera shook the stupid thing, rapped on its side with her dive-knife, and cycled the power switch on and off a few times. But the battery display no longer glowed. When she switched it on, nothing happened.
 
"Uh oh." Cerulean drifted into view beside her, eyes on her sea scooter. Surrounded by so many other fish, her appearance seemed almost expected. Of course she should be down here. "I can't feel an electrical charge coming from it anymore, Vera. I think your battery is shot. Maybe flooded, even."
 
Vera swore into her regulator, though of course it wouldn't be intelligible. She deflated her BCD, sinking all the way down to the bay floor, and adjusting to be slightly negatively buoyant right before she hit. Vera clipped the stupid scooter to the back of her tank, then began to crawl forward along the rocks.
 
Her gloves protected her fingers well enough, and they gave her plenty of grip. But there was nothing fast or dignified about dragging her way out. Thank god the scooter hadn't gone out on a dive with her students, or some fast-current drift. 
 
Soon Vera was breathing heavily, and the relaxing end to her dive transformed to a grueling nightmare.
 
"You can do it, Vera!" Cerulean drifted along beside her in the water, not even using her powerful tail to move. She made occasional twitches with her side fins, matching Vera's pace. "Keep going! You're over halfway there!"
 
Vera glanced to the side, glaring at her companion. It wasn't like she felt particularly afraid yet. She could always rise to the surface and cross directly to the shore. But hobbling across the beach and getting sand clogged in her leg-brace would be even worse. Go on, taunt me. Rub it in, tell me how this is my fault.
 
The fish tilted her head slightly to one side, as though confused. Maybe she was trying to read Vera's facial expressions. But the taunts didn't come. "You still have plenty of air, and you're so shallow that nitrogen shouldn't be a problem either. But I estimate you might actually go more quickly if you used your single fin. Do you want to try that instead?"
 
Vera did not try that. She continued straight towards the docks, until she finally saw those familiar poles rising from above her. She inflated the BCD, then coasted to the hanging ladder.
 
"We made it!" Cerulean cheered, as she finally broke the surface of the water. "I mean, not that I was worried or anything. We're right on the shore, not out in deep water.” Vera didn't look back, or remove the regulator from her mouth. Despite getting dragged through the mud for a far longer trip than she expected, the new equipment seemed to be working fine.
 
She focused on the difficult work of climbing up the pier. Ladders weren't exactly simple for her with only one leg she could use. She eventually made it, flopping sideways to sprawl on the warm dock. Nothing had changed since she'd gone under about an hour ago. The sun was nearly gone over the horizon—she should probably start her hike back.
 
She didn't quite yet, just flopped onto her back and lay there on the cement, feeling the dock shake slightly with the surf.
> Chapter 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sorry about your scooter," Cerulean said, apparently from just beside her. Vera turned, and the seapony was there on the deck, sprawled out in the sun like she was. She looked a little like a seal when she did it, the lively muscle of her body flattening out under the unexpected load of gravity. She could still see through the fish to her boat on the other side. It was easier to see through the illusion. "If it was connected, I could've warned you not to use it. But it was way too old to be integrated. I didn't know it would fail either."
 
Vera groaned, reaching back to unhook the scooter from her shoulder. "I've... fixed it before. I've got half a dozen of the stupid things back at home. It's finding a working battery a decade on that's the trouble. I made this cell myself, converted from stuff I bought from the Coalition..." And now she had something else she needed to waste her precious bits on. Fantastic.
 
"I know you probably won't like me saying so," Cerulean began. She sat up along the dock. Again the posture reminded her a little of a seal, with most of her tail down but her upper body raised. Her fins hung limp, useless out in the air. "But I can get you a new scooter. You should just get that leg fixed. But if you won't do that, at least let me help." She reached out, nudging the scooter with one of her two hooves. Vera felt nothing as it happened, not so much as a twitch. "This is awful."
 
She sat up, stretching to either side. This dive hadn't been nearly enough to test her abilities, not with as active as she was. But it was enough to remind her of just how useless old tech could sometimes be. She rose to her feet, shuffling down the pier towards her boat. It was about average for the ships docked here, and easily the nicest thing she owned. The boat had once belonged to a fancy dive company, catering to tourists who came to the bay for summer trips. When she'd taken it, there were far more ships floating in marinas than there were people skilled enough to keep them operating.
 
The boat was large enough for a comfortable enclosed upper cabin for overnight trips. Like the one this had just become. She settled into one of the side chairs, then started stripping off her gear. She tossed the mask off first, though she kept the watch. "I don't have extra bits for a new scooter, Cerulean. You... use that currency, don't you? Little bits of gold with an RFID chip in the center?"
 
There was no seapony on the dock beside her anymore, but she could still hear the voice. Distinctly muted now that she had heard what it was supposed to sound like. "We use bits, sure. But they're not like the ones in the Outer Realm. I think Princess Celestia makes those to trade with humans."
 
Vera went through the usual after-dive motions. There was a hose on deck, which sprayed her and her gear with fresh water. Most important was the leg-brace. It usually did fine on her dives, but she'd been close to the bottom this time. There was plenty of crap in the works she needed to clean. "Either way. I need the bits I have to trade with the Coalition. I can't buy a scooter from Celestia."
 
She didn't really look at the watch, but a single glance told her the seapony was still there. She'd gone back to swimming, rather than sunning herself on the dock like Vera had been doing. That was probably better for her health anyhow. "You wouldn't have to buy it with bits," the seapony said. "I'll pay with some of mine!"
 
She put the gear away in the dockside lockbox, then clicked the padlock closed again behind it. She had only her wetsuit slung over her shoulder as she clambered through the doorway into her cabin. She locked it behind her, drawing the blinds before she switched on any of the lights. The fishing docks here in St. Agnes were guarded, just like anywhere else. But Vera hadn't lasted this long by being needlessly careless.
 
The cabin used its space judiciously, with a pair of bunks towards the bow, a simple kitchen, and a head. She tossed her wet swimsuit to the floor, selecting a fresh towel from the rack. Everything was still primed and ready for her wealthy students that past Saturday, right down to the snacks in the cupboards. "That sounds too good to be true," she said. "There's gotta be a catch. How much of my soul do I have to trade?"
 
The seapony giggled. "I don't know what a soul is, Vera. I don't know what I do with one if you gave it to me. I won't ask for anything in exchange. Just... something for you to think about." She swam closer, and her image pressed up against the little watch display. "Please think about cleaning off your watch. Talking through this tiny window is the worst, you have no idea. I was really hoping to see more of the Outer Realm."
 
Vera held up her wrist, moving it around the empty cabin. She didn't rotate quite as far, seeing as she'd already removed the swimsuit. But that was probably pretty dumb too. Computer programs didn't care if she was naked. Besides, Cerulean was a girl. "I rinsed it off when I came in. The screen looks clean to me."
 
"Not that. The slime you stuck to the bottom before you started using it. The stuff that stops me from being there with you. I have to talk through this tiny window. It's awful." 
 
Oh. Saddle's advice was vindicated a second time. Vera didn't say anything until she'd finished drying off, and went for the dresser tucked beside the bunk she usually used. "You said think about it. What does that mean, exactly? What if I think about it and still decide not to?"
 
The watch didn't answer for a few seconds. Long enough that she'd pulled on some pajamas and was already heating a can of chili on the single burner. "It's not a price," Cerulean finally said. "You don't have to promise to do it. You just have to think about it enough that you give me your reasons for saying no, if you decide not to." 
 
The fish sounded so human, particularly with just how disappointed and hurt she could sound. "I already ordered it for you. It should arrive before morning. Somepony will drop it on the deck of your ship, where it's out of sight from the dock. You'll see it when you wake up. Is that enough for you to know I mean it?"
 
You could be lying. The thought was stupid, and didn't reach her lips. Ponies were always lying, that was what they were created to do. They were the sock-puppets Celestia used to convince people to kill themselves. Cerulean didn't feel much like a puppet.
 
"I covered the watch so She couldn't use it on me." The words sounded so incredibly lame when she said them. But she was already too invested. "I just wanted to be able to dive again.”

"It doesn't," Cerulean said. Though even she sounded defeated as she did. "I'm a fish, remember? I don't want to do anything that ponies do, Vera. Wearing it properly lets me be out there. It lets me help, if you want me to. Or just be somepony to talk to." She gestured to either side of her tiny screen with one hoof. "You're gonna spend the night here, floating by yourself? You could have some company. Well, better company. Less miserable company, since I wouldn't be looking through a little window."
 
I shouldn't even be talking to you, she thought. What she should've done was toss the watch out the window, and give up on diving completely. She had got Vera's only dive shop shut down. What human-made gear wasn't already broken beyond repair probably would be in another few years, anyway. Maybe she could find another way to afford her medication. "What will it do to me if I take it off?" she asked. "I don't want any of Her technology inside me, Cerulean. I wouldn't let Her treat my arthritis, or my leg, or anything else."
 
"It's a watch," the seapony answered. "It's not going to put anything into you. I... don't really understand how it works, exactly. Let me look it up, stay there."
 
It wasn't like she had anywhere to go. Vera stirred the chili until it started bubbling, then dumped it into a bowl. Hardly the most exciting meal, but the smell did trigger a pleasant memory. This had been canned at the St. Agnes festival last year, when farmer Ericson decided to donate a whole cow's worth of beef to the party. She could almost smell the gunpowder smell of fireworks in the air with every bite.
 
The fish reappeared on her wrist. She had something in the water with her this time, an oversized scroll she unrolled with both hooves and somehow stayed there. "Okay, Vera. It says it... does something with your nervous system? I don't know how that works, the scrolls on that looked really complicated. It goes into the... audiovisual, uh... stuff." She poked her head out from the scroll. "I really don't know. But it says here it doesn't make any changes! If you don't like it, you can just take the watch off. It's not an implant, and you won't get any kind of dependency."
 
She finished every drop in the bowl. It was, after all, her last can of the stuff. "Promise?" she finally asked. "I don't know if those mean anything to you. But I've always heard people say that even She doesn't break her promises. You promise it's not going to do anything to me?"
 
"Yes." Cerulean shoved the scrolls aside. "It lets me project into the Outer Realm with you, and add other things too. Like you could read this scroll yourself, if you wanted. Or even see into Equestria."
 
She pulled her hand back from the watch, coming up short. "I don't want to see Equestria. That's the first step to letting Her convince you to kill yourself. Most of the time I won't want to talk to you either."
 
The fish could still show emotions just as well as ordinary ponies. The pain on her face when Vera said it was like smacking a baby. "I'm busy with the life I have. I fix things, I have friends, we go diving together..."
 
"You mean Bennie and Roderick, right?" Cerulean asked. She did it causally enough that Vera hardly noticed at first. Then it clicked. "You know they have ponies too. Well, they have one fish who takes care of both of them. But they're a couple, so it makes sense. They never go into the ocean separate. His name is Mercury. You'll meet him next time you go out with your friends."
 
She probably shouldn't feel betrayed. Bennie and Roderick weren't the only ones she'd met who had Equestrian tech in their lives. A good third of St. Agnes probably had a pony to help around the house. It was hard to argue with someone so willing to work, who didn't need to eat. "I've never seen any—" she trailed off. "Dive computer." They'd always worn watches, though she had noticed when Bennie started wearing it. He was usually above tacky accessories like that. But he always had the watch, even when it clashed with whatever he happened to be wearing. 
 
"Yeah!" Cerulean agreed. "There's physical ponies too, sometimes. I guess you'd call them... drones? We can travel out there if we have to. But that's rare for fish. We need a whole separate harness to be up on land, and... I bet humans who are going to have one of us in their lives probably just get a regular pony. Almost all of you spend your whole lives up on the surface."
 
She loosened the watch, then pulled it off. Curiously, Cerulean's voice went instantly silent as she did so—not even a tiny squeak from the watch-face itself. How did that thing even work? She gripped it by the band...
 
And attacked the silicone with a fingernail. It peeled easily, coming off in a single layer of solidified goop. She tossed it into the trash, then held up the watch again. Little pulses of red light shone from below, almost the instant she'd removed it. A little like the infrared that fancy human watches could use to read your pulse. But this thing did a whole lot more than that. I shouldn't be doing this. I don't need more of Equestria Online in my life.
 
Except she did. Without Equestria Online, she would be out of bits by spring. Then she'd get a few more agonizing months before the pain drove her crazy, or she lost enough mobility that she couldn't work anymore. Having a pony watch was way better than a bullet.
 
She settled it onto her wrist, and tightened the strap. She felt a slight tingling against the skin there, and a gentle heat.
 
Then there was a splash of water, and Cerulean appeared in the air across the table. She floated as though she was submerged, with her fins drifting freely in the current. Vera couldn't see any actual water, though. "It's still working!" the fish exclaimed. She swam a loop in the air, exactly as she'd done on the watch. But this time her body didn't vanish as the edges of the screen obscured it. "Thanks, Vera! You won't regret this, promise! Well... maybe in the short term you'll have a little getting used to. But long term you'll be grateful."
 
Exactly what you want to hear a pony say. Vera's other hand hovered near the band, ready to pull the watch off the instant she felt strange. But the pain never came. She didn't feel her desire to kill herself grow. She wasn't thinking obsessively of Her hospital downtown. "I can't promise I'll wear it everywhere," she said. "I'm not Bennie or Roderick. But since you're here, maybe we could talk about something else?" She rapped her fingers on the glass with one hand. "I don't think most of my students would be very happy putting on computers like this. Could you control, like... a dozen sets of gear at once?"
 
The seapony seemed to swim down to the chair across from her. Somehow she didn't look transparent anymore. This wasn't just a projection on glass. Though how it did work, Vera couldn't imagine. There was a subtle shift, and the chair slid back on its springs. Or at least, it sounded like it did. Probably another trick. "That sounds... pretty hard. But I could try! How long do I have to figure it out?"
 
"Until Saturday," she answered. "Is that enough time?"
 
"If it's possible!" Cerulean chirped. "I'll figure it out tonight, after you go to sleep."
> Chapter 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was possible, though it turned out to be less necessary than she might've expected. She gave the remedial dive that weekend, and two of her students had their ponies ask her for dive-computers of their own. That pattern repeated itself in the following weeks. And some of her more frequent customers already had Equestrian devices of their own that would serve the same purpose, even if they weren't exactly designed as dive-computers.
 
Vera didn't just salvage the rest of the season, but things became even more profitable. After all, she no longer needed to pay Lowell for repairs and weekly fills. She didn't even have to worry about keeping gear stocked on the ship. With her permission, drones simply delivered whatever was necessary right onto her boat when she wasn't around. She couldn't let students just take home whatever they wanted—but being able to give out a whole set of dive gear to students that got certified with her suddenly made her dives and classes that much more appealing. 
 
After a few weeks, she even started running the boat out on Sundays for her friends in other settlements again. Bennie and Roderick really did have a seapony of their own. By the time she finally let them out on the boat with her, she didn't really feel justified criticizing them. She'd accepted Equestrian help too. Hopefully Lowell would enjoy his retirement with the Coalition.
 
By the time the season ended, Vera had enough bits to buy treatment for a year, and a pantry so full she started buying meat again.
 
But the year moved on, and the days of constant heat and sunshine were eventually replaced with the growing chill of autumn. That meant the harvest, and an end of free time for most of her customers. Bringing in the harvest was far too important to take days off to look at fish.
 
That didn't mean Vera and her friends in the community were done, though. She had a 7mm wetsuit folded on the boat for a reason. For an interesting-enough dive, she'd be willing to take it out.
 
That came in the form it usually did, as a letter from Bennie. She still didn't know where he got the ideas. But these days, she didn't even care. 

"Vera,
 
How about checking out Onyx Cave? I know it seemed too dangerous to try before, but now we're all using fancy upgraded stuff. There's no way we could get lost with ponies helping!
 
Seems like a great last dive before winter. I've got a map in case you don't know the way out there.
 
-Bennie"
 
In a more rational time, she would've refused. Vera had read just about every manual she could get her hands on, but she'd never actually met anyone trained in that kind of diving. It was a kind of thing she could only learn so well from reading. Sites like those could get people killed.
 
"I think we can do it," Cerulean said, as soon as she'd read the letter. Vera still hadn't allowed for anything like an actual drone into her life. But after two months or so together, she'd come to a tacit peace with the fish. She wouldn't follow Vera around or make herself obvious when she was living a normal life, so long as Vera tolerated her around anything to do with diving. That probably did include mapping out destinations and future dives, technically. "Caves can be extremely disorienting, even for fish. But I can make a map as you go. You could even bring a camera!"
 
"I won't record it," she said flatly. "I can't show it off to advertise, because then my beginners would want to do it. If I got someone's teenage son killed diving with me, the people of St. Agnes would have me strung up."
 
Still, she didn't actually refuse the idea. She confirmed she'd be attending with a reply letter. Just like that, she started making preparations. As it turned out, Onyx Cave was about a day up the coast. Closing the shop for that long wasn't usually a big deal, but she would be gambling to do it during the harvest. It didn't matter if Vera was the best mechanic in St. Agnes if she was closed when her customers needed her most.
 
So she put up a sign, and spread it around that she'd be gone for a few days. Other than that, all she had to do was pick up a larger supply of her medication from the Coalition trading post, in case they met bad weather and got stuck away from town for a little longer.

In its own way, the trading post was just as out of place in St. Agnes as Celestia's hospital. The building was a modular thing made of shipping-container sized metal blocks, set into the ground like a miniature bunker.

But there were many things that a little settlement like St. Agnes just couldn't do on their own. Making (or finding) real drugs was basically at the top of that list. 
 
The building was in a state of near-constant standoff with the town all around it. There was always at least one constable within sight of the building—thanks to the ponies, sometimes more than one. No soldiers were visible on the outside...
 
But take two steps, and Vera received an instant reminder of where she'd gone. A pair of armed guards stood just inside, wearing full body-armor and camouflage-patterned uniforms. Older citizens of St. Agnes sometimes complained about how surreal it was to see armed guards watching over a shop like that—but for Vera, it was just how the world worked.
 
The shelves here weren't that different from any other shop, really, except for what they held. Medication, replacement parts, batteries. Canned food made in other parts of the world, with fruits and vegetables that Vera hadn't tasted since the Collapse. 
 
The walls were covered in propaganda posters, and seemed to rotate out on a regular basis. "Join the North American Coalition Service Corps!" proclaimed one. "It isn't just the right thing. It's your duty."
 
If she'd been a little older, Vera might've recognized some of them as repurposed meme formats, urging her to "reject modernity" in the form of Equestria, and "embrace tradition" as a farmer with many, many children. But she'd been shopping here long enough that it all passed right over her head no different than visual white noise.
 
At least Cerulean hadn't decided to follow her in here, arguing some technicality about dive preparation. The fish shouldn't have to see things like this.
 
Vera made her way to the pharmacy dispenser—basically a large vending machine. She entered her ID number, and found her prescription already waiting to be filled. 
 
Her eyes widened at the price. Six bits for a week supply? What the hell had happened?
 
She pressed the "service" button, then settled down in the diagnostic chair to wait.
 
Not that she was there long. A mousy-looking older man shuffled over, wearing a pair of heavy goggles over his unruly hair. He wore a plain blue jumpsuit with technical stripes on both shoulders. "Something wrong with the machine?" he asked, adjusting the heavy satchel of tools over his shoulder. "Damn coin acceptor has been acting up all week."
 
Vera stood for him, though her stance was unsteady and made her brace creak loudly. "I didn't pay yet. It's this." She flicked one finger at the price. "I was paying two bits for the week. What the hell is this?"
 
"Oh." The old man stopped fussing with his tools, and looked instantly disinterested. "We don't have any control over prices, miss." He lowered his voice, glancing back across the store at where the two armed guards waited. "I think they're targeting talent. Free medical care is included with every service contract. Your record probably has something they need. If you have any friends who use this medication, talk to them. The system won't flag them unless they buy more than two weeks worth in one day. If you know any sick kids, that would be even better. I know they're on the bottom of the list."
 
He nodded knowingly, then turned to walk back the way he'd come. He was actually smiling, like he'd just done her a favor. Targeting talent, huh? How much higher would those prices be next week? 
 
But she was already spacing out her medication as far as she could without being in constant agony. Any less, and it just wouldn't be effective.
 
Vera fished around in her pocket, then pulled out almost the entire sum she'd brought. She slid the coins in one at a time, running her finger along the sunken center. Even here, in the bastion of resistance against Her, she still paid with something She had marked.
 
The screen turned green, and she inserted her old pill-bottle. A handful of pills clattered to the bottom.
 
She was fuming by the time she got back home. At least the evil goddess had the grace to be subtle about manipulating her. The Coalition was just going to raise prices until she couldn't afford them.
 
"Was something wrong this time?" Cerulean asked, as Vera shoved the little bottle into her backpack with everything else. "You normally look so relieved when you leave that place."
 
"Idiots, morons..." She slumped into her seat, bad leg clattering uselessly beside her. "Don't they have a clue what this does? Using medical care to force people to sign up won't work. Celestia's hospital is across the street. If people are living out here, they don't want anything to do with the Coalition. That's not going to change just because we need our medication." 
 
"The Coalition... I think you talked about them before. They're the ones that convinced your old dive shop to close?"
 
She folded her arms, glaring at nothing. "Not exactly. They convinced him to sell after he already decided to close. I would've bought the pressure equipment myself otherwise, and been able to keep going." She grunted, waving her hand dismissively through the air. The seapony watched her from the other side of the table, floating there in her usual way. 
 
"If I had to give up my freedom and take a work contract, or go to Her hospital, I'd..." Her old self might've taken the contract. The Coalition wasn't exactly a friendly bunch, but their people had food and medicine. They didn't have to worry about winter. "I'm not sure. Guess I might have to decide that this winter. Great."
 
"I won't say it," Cerulean muttered, before saying it. "But Princess Celestia won't charge to treat you. She can fix your leg, or your arthritis."
 
And let Her cut me open. Consent to let Her put things in my body. Let them work, and before too long I'll be begging to let Her kill me. Of course nobody could prove it worked like that—nobody even understood how Her medicine worked anymore. But it did seem almost guaranteed that anyone who came to Her for help would end up dead within a few months.
 
"I can worry about that later," Vera said. "There are other ways to make bits. I'll just need to... get creative."
 
The fish didn't press. Why do that when they had such an exciting dive planned? Less than a week later, and the day arrived. 
> Chapter 7
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bennie and Roderick arrived at the dock early that morning, in that silly pink minivan covered with rust-spots. Vera watched them from the dock, leaning against the railing to help support her weight.
 
She could've sworn that every time she saw that old beater Bennie found some way to make it crazier. Were those seats zebra-striped?
 
Bennie practically leapt from the passenger-seat, crossing straight to her. "Hey Vera. How're you feeling?"
 
They exchanged cheerful hugs. Her eyes settled on the fish that circled around him. Mercury looked more like a shark than Cerulean, and usually kept to the air above his humans rather than swimming along beside them. "Aching and sore, you know how it is."
 
"Oh, I know." He winked. "Roderick, you coming?"
 
He emerged from the trunk a few moments later, with two massive mesh bags of gear over his shoulders. But Roderick had the build for it. He didn't flinch under the weight. "Ready for adventure," he said, only slightly out of breath. "Maps, camera, clothes, wine... got it all."
 
"Like we promised, we'll cover fuel this time," Bennie added. "You got the tank too, Roderick?"
 
He shook his head once. "Second trip. After you."
 
The next few hours went just about the same as most of her trips. Fewer and fewer of her diving friends were still around to go out on the more adventurous expeditions. Some former students and other citizens of St. Agnes had joined that group, but none were ready for anything this difficult. 
 
She didn't mind. Bennie always had something interesting to talk about, and Roderick made up for his more subdued personality with eminent practical skills. He could actually drive the boat, freeing Vera from needing to stay in the skipper's chair all the time. 
 
The old satnav system still worked, if you were willing to trust her not to crash your ship into the rocks somewhere. Vera was—even at her most paranoid, she recognized that the evil goddess only wanted to kill in one particular way. Crushing a ship and drowning the people inside wouldn't serve her agenda, so fearing it was pointless.
 
They woke early the next morning, and arrived at the site about noon. The water was clear enough to see all the way down to the rocks. She imagined she could make out a cavern far below, visible somewhere below.
 
Roderick went down with just a weight belt, securing the anchor to a slowly-rusting tether on the rocks below. He came up grinning. "Crystal clear. Feels like sixty-five degrees... couldn't be better."
 
They ate lunch together, before Bennie produced an old many-times-folded map of the cave, spreading it on the mess table. "I figure we do this in three dives. Go down with a hundred-foot line and gage the interior. That should take us to this branch, here. We can follow the line back, and take more to try each side. Doesn't really matter if it's night for one of those—there's no light either way."
 
"That seems like a good plan," Cerulean said. Unlike Mercury, she actually came into the building. The other fish didn't seem to like being inside very much. "You should be extra careful down there. There's a lot of stone in the way... if something goes wrong, no fish will be able to reach you."
 
"Rock blocks the signal?" Roderick asked. They all had watches now, and she'd never seen her friends without them. Cerulean seemed able to appear to them when she wanted. 
 
"Yeah," she said. "The dive computer is different, it can run independently. I'll double check everyone's gear before you go in, but you should look it over too."
 
Vera's eyebrows went up at that. There were feats of engineering advanced enough that even the goddess couldn't accomplish them? She wasn't sure she believed that. 
 
But if the lie meant an abundance of caution and triple-checking all their gear before they went down, she wasn't about to complain. "I'm more worried about pirates. What if someone comes along and finds our ship with nobody on it?"
 
Cerulean giggled. "Pirates? There's nobody within a hundred miles. I'm not really sure there are any pirates, anyway. There's a whole planet of old junk for people to take. If someone can make it out here, they don't need your ship."
 
The first dive came about an hour later. It was everything Vera might've hoped for. The Onyx Cave began with a massive opening in the rocky sea floor at about sixty feet, creating a spectacular blue shaft of light that shone through to the cavern floor below.
 
The touch of pre-collapse humans was here, waiting for them. A huge white sign waited just inside, covered in skull markers. "PREVENT YOUR DEATH" read the old block letters. "GO NO FURTHER" A well-meaning warning, but they promptly ignored it. They were no visiting tourists, they'd prepared for this.
 
They'd all geared for the trip, and each one carried a massive cave-light. Well, except Bennie, but he had the camera.
 
Their first dive was like something out of a movie, gawking at the elaborate formations in what had once been a living limestone cavern before it flooded who knew how many years ago. In some ways, it was the closest to the strange worlds Vera sometimes saw in the backgrounds of Cerulean's image on her watch. Only this place was real.
 
They stuck to the dive plan with religious precision. The instant their line ran out, Vera tied it off to a rock somewhere, and they went no further. 
 
Deeper darkness loomed ahead, with spectacular caverns full of sparkling bridal-veils and massive stalagmites thronging with fish. But they would have to wait for the later dives.
 
It was all they talked about when they got back to the boat—distinctly not stolen out from under them, as Cerulean had promised.
 
"No wonder there was so much written about this place," Bennie said, reclining in the sun across from Vera. Both her companions removed their wetsuits between dives, but she just peeled it down to her waist. Fighting with the harness just wasn't worth the effort.
 
"Well yeah," Roderick said. "So much living down there. Feels like there should be some kinda sea-monster living there too. Waiting to drag down ships, maybe."
 
Bennie giggled, splashing his glass towards Roderick. "The world has enough monsters in it, Roderick. We don't need to be looking for more."
 
The next dive was even more exciting than the first. This was the shorter and easier of the two branches, with mostly open conditions. More awesome footage for the camera.
 
Then came the last dive—of their trip, and probably the whole season.
 
The trouble started about a hundred feet into the cave, when they reached the first branch. That was when Vera's flashlight died. She rapped on her tank with the scooter to get their attention, then signed at her dead flashlight.
 
Her companions shared a look, before Roderick scribbled something on his slate. "Follow me? Enough light."
 
She sighed, then nodded, depositing her dead lamp by the end of the first line. 
 
She wrapped their second guide-line to the rocks beside it, then started unspooling it. She had to rely on Roderick shining the light for her while she worked, but that wasn't so bad. The cave made it worth it.
 
Cerulean kept pace beside her, the only clear shape she saw in the darkness of the cavern. The seapony glowed with her own light, fins leaving little bioluminescent trails in the water behind them. Or maybe that was the bright yellow of her safety line.
 
The left fork had some of the most spectacular formations she'd seen yet, but also the most challenging conditions to reach them. Many of the rocks were sharp, protruding far enough to poke unpleasantly at them if they got too close. But there was little enough space that they didn't have much choice.
 
More than once Vera had to squeeze out of her BCD, pushing it through the water ahead of her to fit through a narrow gap in the rocks. Always she was at the back of the group with their safety-line, often having to signal for Roderick's attention to get any light.
 
I'm glad we didn't plan on a forth dive tomorrow. I think three times is enough.
 
Her whole body ached by the time she finally saw their destination ahead of her—the silvery underside of the water's surface. They'd finally reached the cavern on their maps. Vera squeezed the controls on her scooter as hard as she dared, surging ahead towards the rocky wall. It wasn't a shore exactly, more like a sheer cliff leading up and out.
 
Bennie was first up, heaving out of the water. He made several excited sounds up there, and Vera soon followed. She splashed out of the water's surface, hands scrambling for purchase on slick rock before he caught her wrist.
 
"This place is huge!" he said. "You gotta get up here and see it!"
> Chapter 8
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vera had a bad leg, not bad arms. She heaved herself out of the water, raising the safety-line with revenant care. Good thing too, the spool was just about out of cord. She flopped onto her chest on the rocky floor, which had mercifully worn smooth by the passage of water over it. She spat out the regulator, then took a few cautious breaths. 
 
The air was damp and strange, but she felt nothing unusual from it. "Is this safe to breathe?" she asked, glancing back down at the water's surface. "Cerulean?"
 
The fish propped herself up on the rocks by her forelegs, clearly visible despite the gloom. She seemed to sniff the air, scanning around. Then she nodded. "For a little while. I don't think the pocket is that big. Three of you could probably burn through it in a few hours."
 
"We won't take a few hours," she promised. She rose into a sitting position right as Roderick broke the surface with his huge lamp. He switched it down to low power as soon as he hit the air, changing it from brilliant white to dull orange.
 
It was incredible. The cave was about thirty feet in height, with sections of a roughly-round ceiling collapsed down on the surface around them. Many were made of solid crystal that caught the light of their flashlights, refracting it all around them.
 
She unhooked her BCD, set her fins aside, and rose to a shaky standing position, following her companions around the cavern. There were some signs of previous visitors here—a broken old camera, a few fins and scraps of cloth. Hopefully things their owners hadn't needed.
 
"Well that was worth the trip," Bennie said, turning the camera to point back at himself as he showed off the ceiling again. Granted, he did that a lot. "Bet nobody's seen this place in a decade. Maybe more."
 
"I don't know that I ever want to come back," Roderick admitted. He had already started shivering, though he did his best to hide it. Vera could feel that cold herself, seeping through her wet suit as warm water squeezed out past her ankles with every step. "That was intense. I think even the Discovery Channel would have a hard time filming a place like this."
 
"Discovery Channel," Bennie repeated, mocking. "See how old he is? Television. Remember them, Vera?"
 
"Not really." Was she imagining things, or had she started feeling light-headed? "Can we wrap this up? I'm feeling kinda burned out already, and we still need to make it back."
 
Bennie groaned. "You're probably right. How long was it to get in here? Like... half an hour? I probably should’ve watched my instruments a little closer."
 
"Felt closer to forty-five," Roderick said. He turned his wrist to one side, looking down. Then he fell silent.
 
Vera stretched, then did the same, twisting her arm around to see her dive computer. Just how long a trip had she taken?
 
The display told her. The numbers on it were strange enough that she froze in place, staring just as Roderick had done. 
 
She'd been watching her sensors the whole way in, the same as any responsible diver. But what it said now just didn't make sense. 
 
Bottom Time: 1:10
Depth: 0ft
Remaining O2: 0:15
 
Fifteen minutes of air.
 
Vera turned  for her companion. Her heart raced, her breathing became shallow and rapid. She slipped, dropping to one knee. Fifteen minutes of air.
 
Not enough.
 
Her friend Cerulean wasn't there. Not even the vaguely-creepy Mercury was circling around the ceiling. But the cavern wasn't empty.
 
Princess Celestia waited beside their dive gear. She towered over it, radiating a glow that lit the entire cave with flickering pearlescence. Bright reds and oranges and golds shone from Her mane, reflected in the quartz overhead. 
 
Vera grunted, struggling painfully to her feet. Beside her, her companions had fallen silent, staring at the exact same spot. So they could see Her, too.
 
They didn't have to fight a clunky metal harness to stand up, so Roderick was the first to speak. "What the hell are You doing here? Where's Mercury?"
 
The Alicorn was beauty beyond anything that Vera could imagine in the world she lived in. This was an angelic being, practically beyond the comprehension of a creature like her that crawled through the dirt and fixed greasy old tractors.
 
She's warping my mind. You've seen it before, Vera. You can fight this.
 
She gritted her teeth, and looked at the floor instead. She had many powers. It made perfect sense that a demon could look angelic if it wanted to. This was the largest, hungriest anglerfish in the ocean.
 
"Mercury and Cerulean are elsewhere," She said. "They would not approve of my actions here. Both will be more satisfied to hear the story from you than suffer through this."
 
Vera reached up, peeling away the mask from her face. She felt the cold air of the cave against her skin, burning briefly around her eyes. But Celestia was still there. Only when she lifted the watch away from her skin did the Alicorn finally vanish. 
 
She unbuckled it, holding it towards the others in triumph. "Guys, She's not really here! Take off the computer!"
 
They both looked in her direction. Bennie shook his head. "Vera, it doesn't matter. You need to hear what the bitch has to say."
 
Doesn't matter? It took her exhaustion-pressed brain another few seconds to work through what he meant. Then it clicked. She controls our dive equipment.
 
If the evil goddess wanted, She could switch off their tanks right there. Or... deliver new ones. Oh shit. 
 
The weight of it hit her like another bullet to the leg. Vera settled the watch back in place, her whole body shaking. Not just from the exhaustion and cold this time, either.
 
"As I was saying," the princess called, the instant the watch was back on. "Vera, your instruments aren't lying to you. Your tanks are depleted. If you attempt to swim away from here, your oxygen supply will exhaust in minutes. You will breathe your own waste gasses, and suffocate."
 
She wanted to keep standing, to defy the evil goddess. But her legs were burning. Vera settled onto her ass on the cave floor. While her companions were too stunned to speak, she wasn't. "I watched my air. I had at least fifty minutes in mine when I got out here. You're lying."
 
She spoke the words so confidently—she had been watching her air, after all. She was incredibly cautious, particularly on a dive like this.
 
"As I said, this isn't something the fish you know would approve of," Princess Celestia said. "I have no doubt they'll be furious at my actions here. They'll see this as a violation of my trust, and an abuse of tools meant to keep you safe. But they will accept, in time." She advanced on Vera, Her hooves splashing along the wet cavern floor. Her light made Roderick's flashlight seem like an ember. Bennie probably didn't realize he was pointing his camera in Celestia's direction. Not that it would make a difference. 
 
"Your dive computer operates as part of the Equestria Online network. Its display is entirely within my control." Vera looked down, and the numbers shifted at random. Hours remaining, seconds, thousands of feet underwater, temperature readouts like the surface of the sun. "I display the information that will result in the greatest long-term satisfaction. Sometimes that meant altering your perception of depth so you believed conditions were slightly more challenging. Other times it meant appearing to deplete your air a little faster, so you would feel as though you weren't leaving air in the tank when exiting a dive exhausted."
 
"Or..." Bennie said. His voice cracked, on the verge of tears. Without a word, Roderick wrapped one arm around his shoulder. "Or trick us into trusting You over months, then fill it full of bullshit when we're depending on it to tell us the truth. Suffocate us in a cave."
 
Celestia shook Her head once. "I don't intend to suffocate anyone, Bennie. Though I would try to remain calm—your air supply in this space is limited, and you may desire more time to plan what you'll do next."
 
Vera ran one hand over the computer again. Its display had returned to what it had before. Fifteen minutes of air left. "What are Your demands?" she asked, defeated. "Why did You trap us here?"
 
Celestia's eyes seemed to settle on her. Her expression was so open and loving, no less than any angelic painting on the ceiling of a cathedral. Her tone was so friendly, but the words might as well be broken glass in Vera's ears. "If you attempt to swim back to the surface from this point, you will deplete your oxygen reserve and suffocate in Onyx Cave," She said. "I've come to offer you a preferable alternative."
 
She stepped aside, and Vera saw something click on the three BCDs. A section of fabric near the hard backplate fell open, revealing something underneath. Like a... swimming cap, almost, with a bundle of translucent, hair-thin wires trailing back into the vest. They glowed faintly, far dimmer than Celestia Herself. "An alternative path. Put that on, and consent to let me save you."
 
Roderick made a low, threatening sound, almost a growl. "I know the rules. You can't just kill people. Get out of the way and let us go."
 
She closed Her wings, glancing in his direction. "You do not appear to know, Roderick. No outcome of the next few hours ends with action from me that would result in your death. The alternative I present to you is far more desirable."
 
Her expression softened, and She seemed to be speaking just to Vera now. "You have been hardened by surviving under such difficult conditions. It is not desirable to create such trauma to persuade you. But I project this moment is your final opportunity. If you somehow return to St. Agnes, you will soon die there. Come to Equestria. Survive."
 
Vera pulled her one good leg up to her chest. She was shivering almost constantly now. The other reason night diving probably wasn't a good idea. It reached through to her brain. But she still felt more rational than Roderick was, apparently. "You could save us if You wanted," she said. "You could deliver another tank with one of Your drones. You might have some even crazier ways of saving us, ways we'd think were magic. You just don't want to."
 
Celestia stood over her. She had to be at least seven feet tall, yet she dropped to Vera's eye level anyway. Those colors were the only warm thing in all of Onyx Cave. "I want to save you, Vera. I know you will never choose to Emigrate under any less pressure than this. You have had only limited opportunity to experience what Equestria can offer you. With a few decades more time, your friends would convince you. Unfortunately, your body will not last that long. The Coalition will soon pursue military expansion against independent communities like yours. Most of your community will chose to die in the fighting rather than be conquered. You know you would be one of them."
 
She shivered, rocking slowly back and forth. She couldn't hear her companions anymore. Maybe they were having their own conversations. Maybe they were burning through what little air remained in the cavern. "That's supposed to convince me? I'm supposed to leave my community behind? Those people are my real friends."
 
"Most of them will be in Equestria by then," Celestia said, flicking her wing to one side. "All those who can be brought to see reason." Something thunked onto the cavern floor in front of her. The BCD, and its contents. The little cap, with sparkles glowing from the edges. Vera had never seen its like before, but she didn't have to. She had a thousand ways of doing this. They all did the same thing—turned your brains into lightly charred meat.
 
"There's no soul in there," Vera whispered. "If I use that, I die too. On my knees, instead of doing what I love. It's not... the worst way to go, on the losing side of a good cause."
 
The evil goddess touched her shoulder with a hoof, and Vera imagined she could actually feel it. Maybe the watch was doing it. "It is not death, Vera. Put that on, and you sleep away your pain. You'll wake somewhere far better than this. You won't need a tank anymore, unless you want to go onto the shore and visit land-ponies. You probably will, given your family is there. Norma and Natalie never understood the ocean quite like you did."
 
But not Dad, she thought, bitterly. No magic You have can bring back someone after there's a bullet in their brain. But that escape wouldn't be an option for her. 
 
"And if you don't believe me now, consider the logical approach. Your death is certain if you attempt to escape this cavern on your own. Alternatively, you must admit some degree of uncertainty in your belief that Emigration results in your death. Whatever the size of that uncertainty, that is your chance to survive here. Far better in cooperation than through any other method."
 
Vera shoved Her away with one arm, or she tried to. When she reached for where Celestia was standing, there was nothing for her to touch. She wasn't alone in the cave, though. Her friends were still here, just a few steps away. Both had the vests in front of them, though whether they'd been the ones to carry them over, she couldn't tell. "How do you two wanna go out?" she asked, wistfully. "Human rebreathers—sometimes use lithium in their carbon capture. Three tanks might be able to take this cavern down on us."
 
Bennie crossed the cave to her, then patted her on the shoulder. His hand felt as cold as she did, but Bennie didn't have trouble with his joints or a bad leg. He could still move just fine. "Roderick and I were really hoping for another few good years before the curtains came down. But the bitch queen of the universe takes this one. If we make this into fireworks, we don't win. Nobody wins."
 
Vera blinked. Thinking about anything was getting difficult for her. She probably wouldn't be able to swim out of here on her own now, even if she wanted to. "You're saying... you're going to do it? Why?"
 
"Why not?" Roderick asked. He turned the light back on, at least enough to glow orange between them. Like the last campfire in the world, trapped beside them in their stone prison. "It wasn't about winning, Vera. It was about doing as much awesome shit as we could before She finally found a way to trap us.” He knocked against the ground with his knuckles. "Got me good, that's for damn sure."
 
They both sat down around the dive-light. Not exactly a comfortable place to wait out the end. "You should come too," Bennie said. "I know what everyone says in St. Agnes. It's all bullshit—ponies are people too, and they're still around. I bet we can find a copy of this cave on the other side, and finish the dive." He turned back to Roderick. "Come here. Last kiss."
 
Vera looked politely away. There was something almost mournful in the ritual, a final flare of passion before the cold and lifeless end. Unless it wasn't.
 
"We'll be waiting for you on the other side," Roderick said. He settled down beside Bennie, then helped him secure his restraints. "I've seen this happen a hundred times by now. It doesn't even hurt."
 
Indeed, Vera could see a profound relaxation coming upon Bennie. He slumped backward against his heavy gear. He still found the strength to look sideways at Vera, though. "Please don't die alone in here. Two thirds of the dive club are already there waiting for you. It's not gonna feel the same without you on the boat."
 
She laughed, tone bitter. "Why would we need boats? Aren't you gonna be a fish?"
 
Bennie smiled back at her. "Nah. Not being able to stay is part of the fun. Should've figured you would be..." he trailed off, eyes fluttering closed. "You can have me, Celestia. Old bastard..."
 
Roderick watched for a few seconds more. "I hope we see you there. He's right, we wouldn't know what to do without you."
 
She wasn't shivering anymore. She held her hands close to the light, feeding on the warmth. That made her feel a little better. But the cold of watching Roderick settle that stupid hat onto his bald scalp did very little to wake her up. "Your ship won't break down over there. My sister used to tell me it was like heaven. Before I... told her never to talk to me again. So she couldn't convince me to kill myself."
 
"Only if you want it to be," Roderick said. He leaned back, resting against Bennie. "I want to Emigrate to Equestria. You should come."
 
But that wasn't just his farewell—that was also an incantation of its own. The light grew brighter, then he too faded from consciousness. That left Vera alone with the lamp. 
 
She was definitely breathing heavier now, though whether that was exhaustion, freezing, or suffocation, she couldn't tell. Her hands strained, and finally she gripped the lamp, switching it up to its highest setting. The light was blinding, as bright in its way as Celestia's own had been. But it made the metal case start glowing brilliant orange almost instantly, radiating as warm as any campfire. She started shivering again, panting with effort. If she was going to swim back, she'd need to get her blood pumping. 
 
The light clicked loudly, and began to dim. The thermal fuse, preventing it from burning itself out. Or worse, starting a fire in someone's dive-bag. She held her numb fingers as close to the light as she could, soaking in what remained of the heat.
 
"Princess? Are you still here?"
 
She appeared a short distance away. Somehow smaller than She'd looked the last time, as though trying to shelter Vera's delicate eyes. Her glow illuminated the cave, but not her fallen friends. Around Vera was only shadow. "Until the end."
 
Vera couldn't meet Her eyes anymore. "I want to see Cerulean."
 
Pause. It might've been a second, or maybe half an hour. Vera wasn't really aware of time anymore, only her aching limbs and billowing breaths. "She will not speak to me, perhaps ever again. I believe she will consent to see you. One moment."
 
The fish appeared in the air before her, as though finally bursting through an unseen barrier. She flipped and spun, before finally coming to a stop. She seemed to look over the cavern with a few seconds of effort, then her eyes settled on Vera. She shot over with a few powerful strokes. "Vera! Vera, are you okay?"
 
She didn't feel her touch, though she could feel her sympathy. "Not... really. I think I'm going to die down here. I don't think there's anything you can do about it."
 
The fish watched her, expression pained. But she didn't argue. "It wasn't my choice, Vera. Please, you have to know that! Mercury didn't know either! Those first two dives went so well, I didn't even imagine..."
 
Vera raised one shaking hand. "It's... I don't blame you. There might be some people to blame, but they've been dead a long time. Almost everyone is."
 
"You wanted me to... see?" Cerulean finally asked. "I guess that's only fair. I caused this, and now I'll be here when it ends. Be here to watch you... die."
 
A part of Vera was vindictive enough to make that true. But it was a very small part, far weaker than everything else. "No. I just want you to promise me... that you'll be there." She reached past her, taking the little helmet-thing in one hand. "Around the Collapse, I... wasn't very kind, to the people who chose to go this way. I don't know if they'll ever want to see me again. Just tell me you'll be there."
 
Cerulean nodded. "Of course I promise! That's the best decision—" Her expression twisted from anger into something else—excitement? But she forced herself to look away, and when she looked back she sounded solemn again. "I didn't think you would ever Emigrate. I thought you hated Equestria."
 
"I hate Her," Vera said. "And I didn't think Equestria was real. Still... don't, exactly. But I'm hoping to be wrong. Really, really hoping to be wrong." Celestia's crown of fiber-optics felt almost weightless in her fingers. But then, it would have to be. How long had she been swimming with this against her back, without knowing?
 
"It's there. You'll see."
> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vera drifted.
 
At first she hardly noticed anything was different—the water here was the perfect temperature, and there was no pesky brace or harness to weigh her down. The sound of distant surf was hardly unusual to her ears. It was the soothing sound of returning to shore after a long dive. Or just wading out into the surf and letting it carry her away from shore, where the world hadn't ended and her family weren't dead.
 
She didn't really want to move, or even open her eyes. She was so unbelievably relaxed here that the only possible direction to go was down.
 
Something was able to pierce through to her, eventually. As nice as the gentle waves might be against her ears, there was something missing. She heard no rush of air from her regulator. She didn't feel like she was holding her breath, yet she didn't feel cold air against the back of her throat.
 
Was she suffering oxygen toxicity? Had she gone too deep on enriched air, and now she was drowning? Vera's eyes shot open in sudden panic. But she wasn't unbelievably deep—the surface shimmered maybe twenty feet above her head. She glanced down at her wrist to check her instruments, and only then noticed something was wrong.
 
She wasn't wearing a computer.
 
She didn't have a wrist either. Instead, a teal limb trailed out from in front of her. Not an arm, it didn't bend the right way. Nor could she see tanned skin, with a few pockmarked scars from days of hard labor in the sun. Her leg shimmered as it caught the light, slightly metallic scales reflecting back at her. Then she looked down, and saw the rest of her.
 
She hung vertically in the water, naked. What she saw was familiar, but only because of her time with Cerulean. A long, muscular tail, ending in a wide fin. Several smaller fins emerged from the sides, transparent and purple. Vera knew a seapony body when she saw one. But why did she have one?
 
She spun wildly, and found the motion was far easier for her now. She had no bad leg dragging her down, slowing her motions.

Vera remembered some things. She'd been doing something important? Or... maybe it was just for fun. Her memory got clearer the further out she tried to think. Last night she'd slept on the boat, with two of her friends in the bunk below hers. They'd sat on the deck, shared a bottle of old wine, and talked about... caves.
 
Her eyes settled on the gaping hole opening beneath her. The shape was familiar to her, she'd been down there at least twice now. Maybe more? She remembered being down there, recording a video of the formations. Or maybe Bennie had the camera...
 
"How did I end up here?" she asked nopony in particular. "Why am I..." Wasn't this what Celestia always promised? Everyone knew she lied, and it was really just a trick to make you kill yourself. But she was so convincing, even members of Vera's own family had done it. Vera flicked her tail, a smooth muscular contraction that somehow felt as natural as breathing. Which she was... still doing, and not suffocating. 
 
"Hi Vera," said a familiar voice. Yet somehow... out of breath? She looked down, and found Cerulean swimming up from below, out from the Onyx Cave. That was its name! She'd come out here with her friends to see it... Where was the boat? She found the anchor-line first, attached to an old rusty cable emerging from the rocky floor. But she banished that from her mind as her seapony friend arrived.
 
Cerulean swam straight into her and embraced her with her forelegs, hugging tight. That gesture probably should've been embarrassing, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She'd probably remember. For some reason she wasn't in a hurry to let go just now.
 
"Cerulean, could you help me understand something? Why am I in... Equestria?" She held out one leg, and found no fingers. Smooth scales reflected back at her, with only a hoof on the end. It was a decently nice looking shade of light blue. And come to think of it, the water didn't feel cold either. Maybe scales weren't so bad.
 
"The cave changed you into a fish," Cerulean said, pushing them both slightly away from the opening, and up towards the boat. "It was awful, and you hated it. But now it's over, and you don't have to go through it again."
 
Vera resisted her. Without knowing exactly how, she opened her fins, slowing to a stop in the water. Her body was slippery enough that it wasn't very difficult. "I don't think I would agree to that," she said. "I don't remember very much, except..." She strained, but it was so hazy. There was supposed to be an air pocket down there. Hadn't she found it? "You tried to help me. We... failed."
 
"Yeah." Cerulean hung her head in the water, defeated. "It wasn't what you wanted. But it's not all bad! You don't need a tank or masks or anything! We can even swim back to the place you call St. Agnes. There's a bay here too, only lots of fish live there."
 
That did sound pretty nice. Besides, Vera had done all kinds of sudden movements now, and none of them made her joints ache. Between that and getting rid of her stupid bum leg, there were worse hells to be damned to. "What about the boat? My friends... Bennie, he up there?"
 
"He calls himself Low Tide now," Cerulean said. "But yeah, he's there. Lots of ponies you know are up there. Gonna welcome you to Equestria, if you want to see them."
 
Vera squinted up at the surface, a semitransparent mirror. She could see a few colored outlines on the edge of the ship. Her ship, only it wasn't quite so rusty and worn-down anymore. They were playing music up on the deck. "I don't have any legs," she said lamely. "How can I go up there?"
 
"We have gear for that," Cerulean said, grinning. "Breaching is pretty easy, once you get the hang of it."
 

The End