> Imperatives
>  by Sharp Quill
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1. Coin Flipped
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“But it has nothing to do with hula hoops,” Meg said to her past self.  So far, the encounter had gone exactly as she had remembered it.  Next she expected the pegasus to depart hyperspace without uttering another word, believing she had been offered all the help she was going to receive.

The suspense is killing me.  That sarcastic thought had imposed itself on her.  The fake suspense ended seconds later, for without so much as a goodbye her past self went back through the portal.  To the infinite void she shared, “I still don’t know how to say goodbye to one’s self.”

Fortunately, it was knowledge rarely needed.

Meg touched the portal with a finger and it went dim, flat; her past self was about to test whether it was still open and would find it had been closed.  Now to focus on the next time loop, the one where she’d let herself be kidnapped.  Little had she volunteered about that mission, details of which her past self would eventually choke on.

I was so naïve back then, she thought to herself, remembering how in not even half a year… those few weeks had done much to remedy that.

The time travel spells were easier to cast as a pony.  Only the fact that she had remembered her future self being human caused her to resume that form here.  Her past self, she also remembered, had recently acquired a pendant that allowed her to switch between human and equine, leveraging Discord’s magic.  Long ago she had learned the isomorphic mapping spell, allowing her to transform into any species all on her own.  She used it now, and her equine spine once more bore saddlebags full of gear.

Summoning the raw magic of this place, where the fundamental forces of nature remained undifferentiated, she resumed her journey into the past.  Just a few years to go.





Twilight engaged in the ritual of brewing tea, adding the precise quantity of leaves to the kettle.  President Serrell stood at the panoramic windows, hands clasped behind his back, looking out at the sky above distant Ponyville.  The sun hovered above the horizon, its daily journey complete.  Any second now day would change over to night, and shortly after that the meeting would start.

The sun dipped below the horizon.  Seconds later the moon rose.  “Even seeing it with my own eyes, I find myself doubting.”

Twilight concluded the heating spell.  “I know what you mean.  A planet orbiting a sun?  Absurd.”

“And it looks exactly the same—except during sunrise and sunset.”  He turned around.  “An astounding coincidence.”

“One of all too many.”

Serrell approached the mahogany table, a grim smile on his face.  “A topic for another day.”

The door opened, and Princess Luna entered her sister’s private tea room.

Twilight was caught off-guard.  “Luna?”  And here she was making tea.

The Princess of the Night nodded to the foreign head of state.  “I persuaded my sister that I would be better suited for this meeting.  I hope you do not mind.”

Serrell shrugged.  “You are co-rulers of Equestria; and should word of this meeting get out, I doubt it’d matter to those trying to remove me from office as to which of you I spoke with.”

And maybe she’s right.  Luna did seem more in tune with how politics was played by humans.  Twilight looked down at the tea set.  “Tea is all I have, I’m afraid.”

“It shall suffice.”

Luna took a seat at the table, opposite from the chair procured for the President, who himself sat down.  “That was one of the Articles of Impeachment,” she said.  “Colluding with us to further our nefarious aims, to paraphrase.  I noticed a distinct lack of detail on what these alleged aims might be.”

Serrell exhaled.  “No one can agree on what they might be, but that’s okay because they must be nefarious.  Then there’s the other Article of Impeachment: my being complicit in the locking up of American citizens without due process in a foreign prison, i.e. Tartarus.”

Which Twilight found preposterous.  “I was the one who detained them and locked them up.  Your agents gave them every chance to avoid that, but they refused to cooperate.”

“Well, to be fair, I did agree to the Tartarus gambit, but then there’s no one who knows that who’d leak that fact, not that that’s stopping Eric Tanner from implying I was involved anyway.  Regardless, they’ll claim in the upcoming Senate trial next week that I failed to protect our citizens from you.  Whether it’s from malice or incompetence doesn’t really matter.”

“Would we be called as witnesses?” Luna asked.

“Probably, but obviously they can’t force you.  However, should you refuse, you shouldn’t set foot in the USA.”  He looked down into his teacup.  “Not that there’s a jail that could hold you.”

Twilight sighed.  “True, but that wouldn’t help our cause.”

“It would not.”  Serrell looked up.  “What is your cause, exactly?”

“Friendship, of course!”

Serrell shook his head.  “I know you’re sincere, but don’t be surprised if that isn’t received as well as you think it ought to be.”

Twilight rolled her eyes.  “I’m not clueless.”

“What about Meg?” Luna asked.

“It’s certain she’ll be called as a witness.  She can refuse so long as she stays here, just as she refused the House, but… you know the drill.”

“Is a pardon still off the table?”

“It won’t keep her from being subpoenaed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“But it would allow her to return home,” Twilight said.  Well, to a new home.  Her last apartment was now rented to others.

Serrell allowed himself a long sip of tea.  “It would get the FBI off her case, yes, but she would still be in danger from… less savory elements of society.  I’m not sure what can be done about that.  Maybe if Senator Routledge had been removed from office, but…”

Twilight practically snarled.  “But he wasn’t.”

It never got as far as impeachment, not even close.  For all the evidence Twilight and Meg had gathered, none of it tied the senator to the actions of the so-called “The Section.”  Worse, Routledge had argued that evidence was obviously fake, computer generated—or far worse, magically created.  That the means by which those videos had been recorded could not be revealed, because Serrell had classified the existence of magical time travel, did not help matters at all.  Of those directly involved with the kidnapping, the very few who had initially been willing to talk as part of plea deals suddenly went silent, once it became clear the evidence against them was unusable.  Their cases had never gone to trial either.

Sometimes Twilight wondered if the president had his priorities straight.

“And for me to issue that pardon, under these circumstances, would look incredibly bad.”

Twilight slammed a hoof.  “Then Meg can testify only as a prisoner.  That’s unacceptable.”

“Twilight, please.  Calm down.”  Luna closed her eyes in thought.  “Would Meg testifying remotely, from Equestria, be possible?”

Serrell sighed.  “Technically, I suppose so, given what you can do with cell phones and stuff, but I doubt the Senate will go for it.”

“Then she could testify in person as a pony,” Luna said.  “They would be unable to hold her.”

Twilight gaped; Luna seemed serious.  “Yes… that’s true, I mean, that’s how those—our means of crossing over works, but wouldn’t showing up as a pegasus just create more problems?”

“Would it?  It’s common knowledge now, is it not?”

For the first time in quite some time, a smile appeared on Serrell’s mouth.  “It would certainly shake the box.  They wouldn’t expect that.”

“That is all well and good.”  Luna looked Serrell in the eyes.  “But we are ignoring the manticore in the room.  How would Meg’s testimony help you?  Should she not spare herself the ordeal?”

“Same for me,” Twilight said.  “Especially since most of what we could say has been classified by you.”

He sighed.  “It’s more that your non-appearance hurts, rather than what you might say would help.  You two are fact witnesses.  They’ll claim I’m preventing you from testifying, because your testimony would be damaging.”

Luna nodded.  “That would be their logical course of action.”

Twilight looked back and forth between the two, and sighed.  “I’ll think about it.  As for Meg, that’s her decision.”





Meg typed away at her workstation, working on the simulation software that modeled magic fields.  At this point she was doing it more for Twilight than for her job at the Department of Energy.  Not that she’d had much opportunity to spend her human salary.  It was her job as Royal Advisor that now covered her no-longer-token Equestrian expenses.

A Royal Guard walked through the converted cavern.  The two guards were her only company this late at night, there to ensure no unauthorized persons came through the portal.  Human counterparts were on the other side.  Their job seemed primarily to take her into custody should she return to her own world, and the guards’ job was primarily to make sure their human counterparts stayed on their side of the portal.

Surprisingly few had tried to enter Equestria uninvited—if only because Discord had been persuaded to shift the portal over to the vault that had been used for magic experiments.  Though never acknowledged, word of the portal’s existence had of course gotten out.  After the first few gatecrashers armed with live streaming had managed to enter the facility and found only an ordinary wall for their efforts, the problem had pretty much taken care of itself.  Not that they stopped believing in the portal, oh no.  It obviously got moved, and they would find it.

Well, they weren’t wrong.  So far, no one with access to the vault—a select few—had talked.  On this side of the portal, a new room had been dug out and the portal moved into that.  It was one of many security upgrades.  A proper, public portal was being talked about—behind closed doors, of course—but so far it was only talk.

“We need to talk, Meg.”

Meg jerked her head to the side.  “About what?”  Twilight must have just teleported in.

“The upcoming impeachment trial.”

She knew where this was going.  She turned back to her workstation.  “Not doing it.”

“Just hear me out, okay?”

Meg sighed.  “Just get to the point.”

“Do it as a pony.  Then they can’t hold you.”

That caught her off-guard, for that option had never occurred to her.  Even so:  “But what would that accomplish?  What could I possibly say—what I’m allowed to say—that would make a difference?”

Never mind what showing up as a pony might do to her.

“The mere fact that you do not will hurt Serrell’s case and help Routledge’s.  Luna agrees.”

“Will you testify?”

“I’m not ruling it out.”

Meg plunged her face into her hands.  “I am so sick of this.”

“Maybe flip a quantum coin?”

“I’m sick of that too.  I am not going to run my life by coin flips.”

Twilight answered with silence.

“Fine.  I’ll flip a coin.”  Meg navigated to the website she had visited all too often.  “Should I flip a coin to determine whether to appear before the Senate to testify?”  She started the stream of quantum mechanically generated random hexadecimal digits, then immediately stopped it and looked at the first digit.  “No.  Go figure.  I guess I have to decide on my own.  The multiversal quantum supercomputer has spoken.”

“Then think it over.  That’s all I ask.”

Twilight teleported away.

Meg groaned.  “What’s to think about.”





There was one last item for Twilight to cross off her checklist.  Sunset Shimmer and Moondancer had something to show her.  They had been rather mysterious about it, just said to meet them in the mirror realm.

The mirror stood before her.  Twilight walked through the mirror, and nearly fell flat on her face—and not because she had become a biped.  Canterlot High was gone!  In its place was a control room right out of some human sci-fi movie, full of hi-tech consoles and computer displays.  “What in Celestia’s name happened?!”

Both of them were seated at a console.  Sunset Shimmer spun around in her chair to face her.  “We finally figured out the true nature of this place.”

“Why it looks the way it does,” Moondancer added.

Twilight looked behind her.  There was a wide, floor-to-ceiling pillar.  No statue.  “And that would be…?”

“This realm is pure magic,” Sunset said.  “No other fundamental forces of physics are present here.”

Twilight shook her head.  “No, no, no, no.  Magic is the one thing that cannot be used here.  That’s what caused that leak!”

“Only because this place was magically simulating a non-magical realm.  You could say, in a manner of speaking, that its programming couldn’t handle intense harmonic magic, like from the Elements.”  Sunset shrugged.  “We broke the simulation.”

Twilight looked around the control room—controlling what?—as the implications sank in.  She wished she had a horn here, so that she could directly probe the magical underpinnings.  “How did you move the portal from the statue to here?”

Moondancer stood up and walked towards her.  “We didn’t move the portal; we changed the simulation.”

“What?”

“When a pony enters this realm—unoccupied—the realm conforms to her expectations.  Canterlot High had always been here because we didn’t know any better; we expected it, therefore it was here.”

Something wasn’t right.  Twilight fixed her gaze on Sunset.  “But why would you be thinking of human equivalents to Ponyville residents when you came here the very first time?”

“I wasn’t.”  She exchanged glances with Moondancer.  “We, uh, have a theory about that.”

Twilight facepalmed.  “I’m not going to like it, am I?”

Moondancer cleared her throat.  “One resident of Ponyville was conspicuously absent.”

“Two, actually,” Sunset said.

Twilight groaned.  “Myself and Spike.”  She looked up.  “But at that time, both of us were living in Canterlot, so that doesn’t actually explain anything.”

“Oh.”  Moondancer grimaced.  “Right.”

Sunset waved it off.  “That doesn’t really invalidate the theory.  Look, I don’t have any proof—don’t really have any evidence—but what if you went back in time and came here before I did, establishing Canterlot High and its students and faculty, and left only after I arrived.  You and Spike wouldn’t have equivalents because you were already here.  Well, maybe Spike went back in time with you?”

This was giving her a headache.  “Sure, why not, what’s one more time loop?”  A thought came to her: “Wait a minute.  You mean we don’t have to become humans in this place?”  Maybe she could one day come here as an alicorn and probe the magical underpinnings of this realm.

“Strictly speaking, no,” Sunset said.  “That was just another part of the simulation.  We don’t have material bodies here at all; we can set it to have any form we want.  Didn’t you notice that Discord always remained his chaotic self?”

Twilight nodded.

“I don’t know how, but he knew how to override the form this realm tried to impose on him.”

“Override the simulation from within,” Twilight said.  Discord could not be separated from his magic.  That’s what Tirek had said, and this place was supposedly nothing but magic.  “Remember he got rid of all the occupants?”

Sunset looked up in thought.  “Yeah, he did that, didn’t he?”

Twilight remembered something, back from when she’d first learned about the magic leak to the human realm.  “Discord also created that mirror.  Claimed that this place was nothing but a reflection of our own realm… that it doesn’t exist unless somepony goes through to observe it.”

“He might have been jerking you around,” Sunset said.  “Tends to do that, you know.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But, in this case, it’s more or less consistent with what we found out.  It was a reflection of our realm because somepony went through expecting it to be, and thus observed it to be.”

“What about isolating our two realms?” Twilight asked.  “He said that too.”

“The better question is, what would break that isolation?” Sunset asked.

Moondancer answered, “Portals.”

“Portals,” Twilight repeated.

“Yes, portals.”  Sunset waved her hand at the consoles.  “This all controls the portals between the Equestrian and human realms—creates, moves, destroys.  I simply went through the mirror expecting a portal control room, and here it is.”

Twilight walked over to a monitor.  According to what she saw on it, one portal currently existed.  There was also the longitude, latitude, altitude, width, height, and orientation of both ends.”

“I already checked out those coordinates,” Sunset said.  “They accurately describe the portal we know about.”

“But what if it’s showing this because you expected it to show this?”  Confirmation bias literally made real.  They’d have to watch out for that.

Sunset had a ready answer.  “We briefly created another portal, from another spot in the cavern to the opposite side of the vault.  This is the real deal.”

Twilight couldn’t take her eyes off that monitor.  “But where were all these controls hiding before?  How did Discord create that portal if this wasn’t here?”

Moondancer shrugged.  “We don’t know.”

“How did you know—or even suspect—the portals were controlled from this realm?”

“Suspect, really,” Sunset said.  “The main clue was what Tirek had said, that the portals did not directly connect the two realms, that this realm was the intermediary.  There’s also the fact that from within this realm Discord could open and close that other portal to hyperspace.”  She pointed at the pillar Twilight had come through.  “It’s on the other side, like before.”

This changed everything.  Maybe it even solved the unsolvable!  “Could this create a portal into Tartarus?”  And provide a way to for Tirek to escape?

“Uh… I don’t think so?  I mean, there’s no way to specify which realm.  One endpoint is assumed to be in the human realm, the other in ours.  What does latitude and longitude even mean in that place?”

“See if it’s possible.”  Twilight met Sunset’s eyes.  “It’s important.”

Those eyes widened.  “Sure.  Important.”  She stole a glance at Moondancer.  “I mean, if Tartarus is no longer escape-proof due to this… we ought to find out sooner than later, right?”





Meg couldn’t get her mind back into her work, as hard as she tried to do so.  She might as well go home.  Her Equestrian home.  The only home she now had.

After locking her computer’s desktop, she stood up and put her saddlebags around her neck, then squeezed her pendant.  A pegasus once more, she put on her mining helmet and switched on its lamp.  As she trotted over to the locked exit, she said in a raised voice, “I’m leaving now.”

A guard came by and opened the door for her, after magically unlocking it.  “Have a good night,” he said.

“May be too late for that,” she muttered.

The guard had the good sense not to reply to that.  The door closed behind her and relocked.

Meg walked through the old mining tunnels.  In the solitude, she thought it over yet again.  It was true they could not hold her so long as she arrived via one of Discord’s plaid pills; she could return whenever she wanted and there was nothing they could do to stop it.  Even if they knocked her out and kept her unconscious, the failsafe would kick in once the magic ran out.  None of that could prevent them from killing her, she supposed, but, one, they wouldn’t do that and, two, it was literally impossible; she had met her future self—who was very much alive.

Well, if they had a magic generator… no, that was overthinking it, and none of that was the real problem anyway.  She had never appeared in public as a pony.  Didn’t matter that that secret was out; there was a big difference between hearing she was a pony and seeing it on television during an impeachment trial.  Would she ever be able to go out in public again?  As if I could anyway, she rationalized.  Well, it was true, wasn’t it?

But what could she say under questioning?  She had little doubt that most of it would involve classified information.  But was that really a problem?  So she’d just give non-answers, pretend to have a poor memory; she had seen that song and dance played out enough times.  The point was she’d be there, thereby proving Serrell was cooperating or whatever.

Routledge.  The man behind the curtain, the man who had her niece kidnapped—even if they couldn’t prove it, not even circumstantially.  He’d be one of the inquisitors on the Senate Judiciary Committee.  How could I deal with him?

By the time she had walked out under the night sky, she still didn’t know.  After stowing her helmet in a saddlebag she took wing, Luna’s moon providing ample light to fly by.  Gaining altitude, the thought crystalized: the senator must be made to pay.  That would justify appearing before the Senate—the consequences to herself be damned.  Yet that only begged the question: how to make him pay?

A few minutes later she had flown up and around the mountain and was approaching the palace, her not-so-temporary home.  A guard, armor shining in the moonlight, was flying in her general direction—no, definitely heading towards her.  That was unexpected; what was up?  She slowed down to a hover as they met.  “What’s going on?” she asked.

“Meg?”

“That’s right.”

“Her Highness requests your presence.”

“Princess Celestia?”  Now?  Must be important.

The guard coughed.  “The other one.”

“Oh.”  Late at night.  Right.  “Where may I find her?”

“The throne room.”  Message delivered, the guard departed.

In those rare situations when Luna had initiated contact, it had been in her dreams.  Doesn’t make it less important.  Meg resumed flying, and soon she was gliding in to a landing at the palace entrance.  There wasn’t much activity.  Ponies still preferred to conduct their business during daylight hours.  Luna seemed to have made her peace with it, perhaps because it gave her the time to patrol the dreamscape for nightmares.

The throne room was a ghost town—no, not quite.  An aristocrat was in discussions with the princess, and a few staffers hovered nearby.  Upon hearing somepony enter, Luna looked up.  “We’ll have to put this aside for a half-hour or so.  Everypony please vacate the throne room.”

Meg took that as her cue to approach the throne.  Quickly the others departed, and from that throne Luna closed the doors and gave them privacy.  “I figured a change of pace would be appreciated,” Luna said.  “To meet in person instead of in a dream.”

Meg shrugged.  “I suppose?  Anyway, would this have anything to do with a conversation I just had with Twilight?  I’ve decided to do it, by the way.”

Luna looked surprised.  “Do what?”

“Be a witness at the impeachment trial.  Twilight mentioned you agreed that’d be a good idea.”

“I see.  We did have a meeting with President Serrell earlier this evening—but that is not why I requested your presence.  Have you given any thought as to how, in the past, you shall break Tirek out of Tartarus?”

It had been months since that particular nightmare, when Luna had conveyed royal… non-disapproval?… to that act.  “Not really?  I mean, I have no idea how we’re supposed to do that.  I just assumed that when the time was right something would turn up.  It would have to, right?  It will—did happen.”

“I believe you should be more proactive.  As was pointed out before, it would be best if it happened under our terms.”

And not under other terms that happened to be sufficient to close the time loop, Meg recalled from when Luna had disrupted her Tartarus nightmare.  “Well… not sure where I’m supposed to look for the answer.  Many had tried to figure out how he escaped, right?  Without success?”

“I agree that revisiting well-explored terrain would be unproductive.  However, you are human; I imagine that would bring a different perspective to the problem.”

“Maybe it does,” Meg replied, “but that ‘different perspective’ has yet to work any magic.”

“Keep your mind receptive to possible solutions, and be aware that a solution could come from any direction.  That’s all I can ask.”

“I guess I can do that.”  Meg took a breath.  “Can we go back to the impeachment trial?  I said I’ll do it, but there’s the detail of how I’ll do it.  I doubt it’ll make Serrell happy.”

“Serrell’s happiness is not our responsibility.”  Luna raised an eyebrow.  “Would it make me or my sister unhappy?”

Meg had no idea.  Only one way to find out.  “I want to take Routledge down for what he did to my niece.  The only way I can see to do that is by revealing how I collected the evidence against them, through methods classified by the White House.”

“I see.”

Meg couldn’t read Luna.  Awkward seconds passed.  “The way I figure it,” she continued, “it’s not his to classify anyway.  It’s Equestrian magic.  Sure, I get it: he believes if this got out it’ll only make things worse, and for all I know he’s right.  But wouldn’t taking down Routledge and his goons more than make up for that?  And it’s not like magical time travel isn’t already known.  Twilight did it in one of the cartoons!”  And she couldn’t change the past, an important point to get across.

“Have you considered the possibility that Serrell might be persuaded?  You could be invited to the next meeting.”

She hadn’t, actually, but didn’t care to admit that.  “And what if he can’t be?  I’ll do it anyway; I don’t think it’s in his power to stop me.”  The Senate did not need presidential permission, that’s for sure.

“Did you flip a quantum coin over it?”

Not you too, she inwardly groaned.  “No, and I’m not going to.”

More unreadable seconds passed.

“I shall discuss this with Celestia and Twilight.  Taking down the senator would make all of us happy, naturally; nonetheless, the potential for collateral damage must be assessed.  I ask that you consider making your case to President Serrell.”

The doors to the throne room opened under Luna’s magic.  The aristocrat and staffers re-entered.

Meg bowed, as was appropriate in a public setting.  “I’ll take that into consideration.”
> 2. Mythconceptions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the infinite void of hyperspace existed an endless plane, softly glowing a deep and near ultraviolet purple.  It took a while for Meg to locate her destination, her old office from which she had been—would be— kidnapped.  It helped that magic generators were rare at that point in time; their presence discolored the skin of the universe, rendering it tangerine.  That the kidnappers helped themselves to all the magic generators in the facility also provided a reference point in time.  All that was left was to pass through the skin and wait.

No, there was one more thing.  Meg resumed her human form; she had to do that now, as her original universe would not permit violations of its conservation laws.  That out of the way, she cast a teleportation spell and appeared in what was once her office.

Nostalgia overwhelmed her.  It had been so many years since she’d last seen it.  There, on the desk, was the photo of the two of them in Hawaii.  She still had it; digital pictures did not degrade with time.  How ironic she had arrived at a time, like her own, when there was no Steve anywhere in this universe.  Only this time it was because he was in Equestria, along with her past self, on that trip to Las Pegasus.

Meg plunked into her old chair, memories flooding back.  Before her was her old workstation.  Here and now it was state of the art; by the standards of her own time, it seemed hopelessly outdated, little better than an abacus, a relic in a museum.  There was not a trace of magic in its operation.

Enough reminiscing.  She checked the time on the computer.  About an hour for her to prepare her office for ransacking; the goons were to get what they were supposed to get—and nothing more.





“I was quite sincere,” Andy said.  His face beamed from her computer monitor.  “Our time as enemies has passed.  Why shouldn’t we collaborate?”

Twilight still had not accepted the former Lord Tirek’s offer, first made back in Tartarus, to cooperatively investigate the similarities between the human and pony realms.  There was no specific reason why.  She just couldn’t help but feel she’d regret it.  Somehow.  Eventually.

But if that were the case, that he had something nefarious planned, there was only one way to uncover it.  So when Andy’s desire for this chat had come in through channels, she took Luna’s advice and agreed.  Twilight only added the condition that it’d be a video chat.  Not having been to his current residence, talking to him in person would have been too inconvenient.  She couldn’t use a plaid pill to go there directly, and using a portal was too risky as she wouldn’t have the option of the pill’s return spell.

“Okay, let’s start now,” she finally said, “with the subject of language.  You witnessed the development of modern Equish, right?”  A human pen hovered over a pad of paper.

“Excellent!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together.  “I did.  However, I would not use the word ‘development.’”

“Oh?”

“Modern Equish did not so much ‘develop’ as appear fully formed.”

The pen continued hovering over a blank sheet of paper.  “Fully formed,” she repeated.  “It had to form somewhere.”

Andy nodded.  “One would think so.  English certainly formed here in this world, I have learned, over the course of many centuries.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

A shrug.  “I assume magic was somehow responsible, though that would be more your specialty than mine.”

And there was an all-too-obvious explanation, not that she was going to mention time travel to the former centaur.  It begged the question anyway.  How do time travelers get an entire population of ponies to switch over to English, accent and all?  And to do it so thoroughly that no trace remained of their earlier tongue?  There wasn’t a spell for that!

“How do you know Equish didn’t evolve over centuries?” she asked.

Andy looked up and to the side, lost in thought.  “I can’t prove it,” he eventually said.  His eyes returned to the webcam.  “One day, I learned of a large population of ponies, all of whom spoke what would become known as Equish.  I don’t know how long they were there—generations certainly—so it’s possible their language evolved over time.  But even if it did…”

He was lost in thought once more.

“Even if it did,” he resumed, “it bore no similarity to any other language I was aware of at the time.”  He paused again.  “Another strange thing to consider: that part of the continent, where Equestria is today, was uninhabited wilderness the previous time I had passed through, maybe two—no, three centuries earlier.  I’m not sure where those ponies had come from.”  He rubbed his chin in thought.  “Actually, I had not previously encountered ponies anywhere prior to that.  Donkeys, yes.  Goats, yes.  Even cows.  But not ponies.”

Twilight didn’t know what to make of that as she wrote it all down.  It raised more questions than it answered.  Time travel, again, while superficially providing an answer, again begged the question.  A large number of ponies couldn’t be sent from the present to the distant past, thus becoming their own distant ancestors.  She now knew enough about genetics to understand that was—at best—highly improbable.

Unless… “What happened to this population?  They didn’t somehow all die off after transferring their language to another population of ponies, did they?”

Andy was not amused.  “I hope you are not accusing me of genocide.”

The thought had occurred to her, though on reflection she regretted thinking that; Lord Tirek had wanted to conquer and rule, not mindlessly destroy.  “It could have been a pandemic, or a natural disaster,” she quickly said.  Even if some had survived, so long as their descendants had all died out before modern times, it could still work.

“To my knowledge they were the ancestors of present-day Equestrians.  There were no other ponies so far as I know.  I do know that Celestia and Luna were born to them.”

“They established their rule by defeating Discord,” Twilight said, seeing where this was going.

“I gave them all to Discord to do with as he pleased,” Andy said with a wave of a hand.  “They were too far away for me to bother with; that’s why it took so long for me to become aware of them.”  He sighed.  “In hindsight, that may not have been the wisest course of action.”

Since it had directly led to his imprisonment in Tartarus.

It’s ancient history, she tried to tell herself.  Nothing would be served by holding him accountable for what he had done so—no, he had already been held accountable, by his long imprisonment in Tartarus.  Regardless, it confirmed that those ponies hadn’t died out, that their descendants—amongst them Twilight herself—still lived.  They could not have been time travelers from the present.

So where had they come from?  As tempting as it was to visit them in the past and find out, that wasn’t an option.  Traveling that far through time was simply impossible.  Not now, anyway—not in the foreseeable future either.

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”  Andy looked at her expectantly.  “Imagine what we could accomplish if we had quality time together.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

He threw up his hands.  “Hear me out first.  I’ve been invited to visit my old home at Knossos, what’s left of it anyway.  Perhaps you could come along?  There would be a stopover in Athens; I figured we could visit that cave that led me to your realm.  Who knows?  You might detect some residue of that portal, though after so many centuries I wouldn’t get our hopes up.”

She would have jumped at that chance not so long ago; it had become academic, now that the mechanism behind those portals had been discovered.  Andy didn’t know that.  Should she tell him?  No, he had no need to know.  And he was almost certainly right, that there’d be no residue to detect.  That could be her excuse to decline.

On second thought, however…  Knossos had contact with the Equestrian realm.  The human legend of the minotaur originated there.  It was probably a long shot, but could evidence of that contact survive to the present day?  She could arrange to go there without him, but only Androgeos, son of King Minos, who became the centaur Lord Tirek, could fluently read Minoan.

And as for that cave… who’s to say it didn’t have evidence of Equestrian contact?

Andy was patiently waiting for her reply.

Even better, might he not also let loose a few details concerning his escape from Tartarus?  Meg would love learning how she would free him.

“I accept.”





Susie ran up the stairs with Dinky close behind her, both shouting noises of excitement.

Once they were out of sight, Matt considered his sister.  “Do you always have to visit us as a pony?”

Meg drifted down onto the sofa and folded her wings.  “Plaid pills only work for magical creatures.  You know that.”

“You could have a unicorn bring you over?”

Meg frowned at him.  “You’re missing the point.  If a SWAT team forced their way in here, guns drawn, I want a quick exit.”

Matt sat down next to her.  “Aren’t you getting a little paranoid?  We’ve been back for a month and no one has so much as knocked on our door.”

“Which only proves they’re not interested in you… and that they don’t have a clue I’ve been visiting.”

“Or maybe that thought has occurred to them, and they don’t care as much as you think.”

Meg shrugged.  “Oh, sure, I bet they have this house under observation, but they haven’t seen me at the front door—or any door.  Very few know how it works.”

“Then by your own argument it’s safe enough to visit as your human self.”

She sighed.  “If it’s the human me you miss, you’ll just have to come to Equestria to see her.”

He shook his head.  “When was the last time you were even human?”

“The last time I used a keyboard, for your information.”

Matt grimaced.  “Sorry.  It’s just that I can’t cross over on a whim to visit you.  You couldn’t bring me across right now even if you wanted to.”  He looked at the blank screen of the TV.  “Too bad none of those alleged portal sightings were real.  I mean, just because Andy used one thousands of years ago to enter Equestria doesn’t mean they exist today.”

Meg threw him a wry smile.  “Hey, if it prevents everyone from knowing how we really cross over, so much the better.”  The smile became evil.  “But if you want a portal right here in your house so you can visit whenever you want, that can be arranged.”

A flat look.  “Don’t joke about something like that.”

“It’s not a joke.  Well, not the part about the portal itself.  We recently discovered how they are made and controlled.  But putting one here would be a very bad idea.  If word ever got out…”

He stared at her for a few seconds.  “You’re serious.”

“Yeah.  We could set up a big portal right now, let people and ponies go back and forth for business, tourism, whatever.  Except.”

“Except for all the craziness going on right now.”

“Right.”

Matt ran his hand through her mane.  “Speaking of craziness, what about the trial?  I assume you’ll ignore the Senate, since you ignored the House’s subpoena.”

“I’m considering it.”

His hand froze.  “Now I know you’re joking.”

Meg’s ears flattened.  “I’d do it for one reason and one reason only, to get back at that bastard for what they did to Susie.”

Matt pulled back his hand.  “That isn’t how it works.  They ask the questions.  You answer what they ask.  Get real.  Even if you cooperate, do your best not to rock any boats, you’d still wind up behind bars.  That’s your reward for showing up.”

A grim smile.  “Not if I show up as a pony.  They can’t stop me from returning to Equestria whenever I want.  I don’t have to play their game.”

“Show up—”  He shook his head.  “Look, if it was only your life at risk, then maybe you could do what you want.  But if you’re going to drag Susie into the limelight, just when it seemed everything had returned to normal for her.”  He glanced at the ceiling, at where his daughter was playing with a unicorn filly.  “What passes for normal, these days.”

Meg stared at him.  “And so long as those goons are out there, you’re at risk of being used to get to me.”

“Then what are they waiting for?”

She looked away.  “I don’t know.  Doesn’t prove they won’t.”

“Did you ever consider that maybe, just maybe, they don’t care about you anymore?”

“They care enough to have a warrant for my arrest for their bullshit accusations, to subpoena me to testify before Congress.”

Matt threw his hands up.  “All the more reason not to do something stupid.  Just saying.”

Meg’s head dropped to the cushion.  In almost a whisper, she said, “I know it works out for me, somehow.”

It took Matt a few moments to respond.  “What, your cutie mark told you that? or something?”

“My future self.”  She turned away.  “I met her—me—whatever.”

More moments passed.  “No, you’re not joking.”

“An occupational hazard of time traveling,” she muttered.

“And what about the rest of us?  How does it work out for us?”

“I wasn’t told.”

Matt stood up.  “Keep that in mind.”





“This is fascinating, Spike!  The ancient Greeks did not consider unicorns to be mythological.  They really believed they existed.”

Spike put the cup of hot cocoa on the desk next to the computer.  “It’s not like unicorns don’t exist.”

“But they never saw one!”  Twilight lifted the cup in her magic.  Tiny marshmallows were already starting to melt, just as she liked it.  “They thought unicorns were in a place called India—”  She pointed at the words on the screen as she read them.  “—‘a distant and fabulous realm.’”

“So ‘India’ is just another name for Equestria?”

“No, apparently not.  It’s a country in the human realm.  I don’t think they mean what we mean by the world realm.”

Spike took a sip of his own cocoa.  “So were there unicorns in India?”

“No… apparently not.  It’s all based on relief sculptures seen in yet another ancient civilization.  They weren’t even based on ponies—or even horses.  That didn’t happen until many centuries later.”

“I dunno.  Doesn’t prove it wasn’t based on actual unicorns.  We know that portal existed.”

“Yes, in Greece.  Where they never saw a unicorn.”

Twilight continued scrolling through the webpage.  She couldn’t help rolling her eyes upon encountering the “unicorns can only be tamed by a virgin” myth.  Cadance would love that one.  How do these things get started?  And humans used the word alicorn to refer to the substance out of which horns were composed—as well as the horn itself?  Well, they were certainly right to believe it had magical properties, though not so much medicinal ones.  Her eyes went wide.  “They ground up the horn into powder!?”

Spike spit out a mouthful of cocoa.  “What?  How?  I thought they never even saw one?”

“It’s…”  She cast a spell to clean up the mess.  “There, that’s better.  Not unicorns, obviously, but other animals—fake alicorn powder.”

“Do they still do that?”

Her jaw set.  “I certainly hope not.  I will not tolerate that happening to any Equestrian unicorn.”

“Uh, or alicorn?”

The worry on Spike’s face was as plain as the fins on his head.

Her smile was determined.  “I can look after myself.”

“Maybe you should bring someone along with more, uh, experience in such things?”

Experience?  Who has more experience dealing with Tirek?  Discord?  Possibly.  But he can’t go to that realm.  Celestia?  Perhaps, but she has a country to run.  Meg?  Sure, she knows the human realm but that doesn’t mean she knows anything about ancient archaeological—

“You’re not suggesting…”

Spike nodded.  “Can a human Andy be any worse to deal with than Ahuizotl or Caballeron?  And ancient ruins are right up her alley.”

And I’m sworn to secrecy.  Ahuizotl and Caballeron were only hive-less changelings role playing a part, she now knew.  It was part of the deal to gain their assistance, to have one of them masquerade as Meg the pegasus.  In exchange, they were granted permission to freely mingle with ponies—so long as they behaved themselves, of course.  So far they had.  They’d been mingling all along, after all, without causing problems.  One was in Ponyville even then, serving as the librarian at the Golden Oak Library.

Part of that deal was, for the time being, to keep their changeling nature a secret, until a path to acceptance and integration could be found.

Regardless, Twilight couldn’t deny Daring knew her way around ancient ruins.  And just because her villains were fictional didn’t mean she lacked understanding on what made them tick.  That’s how she wrote them so convincingly, after all.

“I’ll suggest it to her,” she said.  “She’ll probably have to go as Yearling, but that would work too.”

“Sure!  Researching the next Daring Do book.”

And why not?  She’d even include that in the invitation.

Twilight finished her cocoa and locked her computer.  There was a changeling she needed to see.





Tomatoes.  Eggs.  Honey.  Carrots.  Aged hay.  Various flowers.  Meg’s saddlebags were filling up nicely.  Up ahead she spied an apple cart.  Applejack spied her back and waved.

Sure, why not?  She still had room for some apples.

No sooner had she arrived than the orange mare greeted her.   “Howdy, Meg!  Haven’t seen you around these parts much.”

Meg looked over the cart, wondering what to get; at least eight varieties were laid out, each in its own basket.  “I know.  Spending most of my time in Canterlot these days.  Only here today because Dinky was visiting my niece.”

Applejack nodded.  “Susie did make a few friends while she was here, I reckon.  Apple Bloom wouldn’t mind seeing her again.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Need some help making up your mind?”

They all looked so good.  “Well, I know I want about a pound.  That’s all I can carry, I’m afraid.”

“Not a problem!  Looks like you’ve been busy shopping.”

Meg shrugged.  “Doing my part to support the Ponyville economy.”

A gust of wind ruffled her mane.

“Hey.  What’s up?”

“Meg, here, is about to buy some apples.”

Rainbow Dash took offense.  “I pay for them!”

“Eventually.”

“I’ll let you choose which ones,” Meg interjected, heading the inevitable argument off at the pass.  She reached for her bit bag.

“One pound of apples, coming up.”  Applejack proceeded to select a variety of apples and place them in the scale.

“So,” Dash said, addressing Meg.  “How about we fly back to Canterlot once you’re done here.  You could still use some flight training.”

Meg gave her a blank look.  She was planning on flying back anyway, but what she had in mind by “flying” and what Rainbow Dash had in mind…

“I mean, you are spending most of your time as a pegasus now, so it wouldn’t hurt to improve your flying skills.”

Applejack adjusted her Stetson.  “She does have a point, to be honest.”

Meg exhaled.  “How much do I need to improve.  Twenty percent?”

Dash returned a blank look of her own.  “I dunno?  The point’s to improve, to strive for awesomeness.”

Meg shook her head.  “Sorry.  I’m under  lot of stress right now.”  And to be fair, that twenty percent gag was a throw-away line in a single episode.  It was even possible it’d never happened.

“All the more reason for flight training.”

And the worst part was?  Meg couldn’t deny Dash was right.  How long was she going to live primarily as a pegasus?

At least I don’t have a horn.  Twilight was even more insistent on giving Steve magic lessons.  Flying was as instinctual to a pegasus as walking was to a human; spell casting to a unicorn… not so much, not if the unicorn wants to do anything beyond telekinesis.  The book knowledge and training required to do serious spell work was daunting.  It was something easy to overlook, when a certain purple pony made it look so easy.

Applejack broke the silence.  “Steve isn’t around, is he?  Do you already have train tickets back to Canterlot?”

Rainbow Dash was speechless; apparently she hadn’t considered that possibility.

“No, I’m alone.  Steve’s been tied up helping to make sense out of the data being gathered from one of the stars.”

Dash looked up at a star.  “That one?”  The one star bright enough to be seen in daylight.

“Yeah, that’s the one.  Princess Luna’s keeping it near us, so that it’s easier to visit.  They’ve been up there three times already.”

“But not you?” Applejack finished bagging the apples.  “That’d be three bits.”

Meg counted them out.  “Nothing I could contribute.”

“So what is a star, exactly?”

“A gigantic diamond stuffed full of incredibly sophisticated spells.”

Dash snorted.  “Diamond?  Better not mention that to Rarity.”

“It wasn’t on my to-do list.”  Meg stowed the apples in a saddlebag.

Now a giggle-snort.  “Better make sure it’s not on Twilight’s to-do list either!”

“That’s enough, sugarcube.”

Meg sighed and looked at Dash.  “I’m ready to return to Canterlot.”





Twilight looked up from a book.  “Well, that didn’t take long.”  Spike had brought a disguised pegasus mare into the library.  They were both approaching her.

On reaching the desk, Yearling adjusted her fake glasses.  “I was already in the area,” she explained.  “I had a feeling something worth my while was here.”  She grinned.  “My cutie mark, you know.  Looks like it was right once again.”

While other ponies had similar cutie marks, in appearance, none to Twilight’s knowledge had that specific ability.  She wondered how well it would work in a magic-less realm.  She doubted she was the only one who wondered.  “So you’re interested in visiting ancient human ruins?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“In the company of the former Lord Tirek?”

“I believe ‘former’ is the operative word.  As a human he does not concern me.  And he is the domain expert here, is he not?”

“He can read the long dead Minoan language, originally being a Minoan, yes.”  It was looking promising so far, but there were a few more details that needed addressing.  “There will be a lot of publicity, possibly even a camera crew filming a documentary.  Who do you intend to go as?”

Yearling faked surprise.  “Why, as a world-famous author doing research on her next book, naturally.  And if the publicity surrounding our little expedition increases human awareness of my books, why, who could have guessed?”

Twilight wanted to role her eyes.  Something worth her while all right.

Yearling looked up in thought.  “Though having use of my wings would be nice.  Nothing like getting a bird’s-eye view of things.”

Spike waved that off.  “Oh, that’s not a problem.  Just go invisible.”

Yearling raised an eyebrow at the dragon.

“We can talk about that later,” Twilight said.  “Though calling this an expedition is not accurate.  The sites we’ll be visiting are international tourist attractions, very much on the beaten path.  We’ll be staying in hotels, not tents.  Actually…”  Twilight looked thoughtful.  “We can return here each night.  Probably should; it’d be considerably safer.”  They would still have the hotel rooms; no human need know they wouldn’t be sleeping in them.

The disguised pegasus thought it over.  “It’s an option.  It’s just that often at night happen the most interesting things.”

What those things could possibly be, Twilight could not imagine.
> 3. Shake the Box
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

An elevator dinged in the distance.

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

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

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

The front fire doors slammed shut.

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

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

She pretended to work on some code and waited.

It was not a long wait.





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

Wings twitched uneasily.

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone was looking at her, especially Serrell.

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

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

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

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

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

“In Equestria, that is,” Twilight added.

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

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

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

But receptive was not approval.

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

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

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

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

“No, of course not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was no answer to that.

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

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

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

Wait.  What?

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

“Not under normal conditions,” Luna replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

If she actually went through with it.

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

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

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





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

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

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

“Not just any hay.  Aged hay.”

“That’s a thing?”

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

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

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

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

“I bet there are pony wine snobs too.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re right.”

They both finished their strand of hay in silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve groaned.  “What have I done?”





Twilight gasped in surprise.

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

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

Serrell watched in fascination, not saying a word.

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

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

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

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

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

“Get on with it,” Twilight droned.

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

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

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

“You could use more friendship lessons.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I would have to concur,” Serrell said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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





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

“Faster, Meg!  Faster!”

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

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

“Don’t think.  Do!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Speed typing?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing serious, I hope?”

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

But she’d be prepared for the worst.





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

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

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

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

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

“You actually got turned into a pony.”

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

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

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

“Like Twilight Sparkle, I assume?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh.”

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

“The long answer.  Right.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, here we are.”

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

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

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

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

“Could you put in a word for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You-know-who.  As in Rainbow Dash?”

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

Meg didn’t wait.  She invoked the return spell, letting Faust see her disappear into thin air.
> 4. Point of Departure
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How considerate of you to leave the door open for us.”

Meg stopped typing mid-keystroke.  It certainly was considerate of me.  They’d never be—no, that spell wasn’t in place yet.  It was this event that had led Twilight to put that structural integrity spell into place.  Right?  It was so long ago…

She turned around and faced Jackson, trying to act the part.  “Ex-excuse me?”

“No excuses for you, traitor.”  He pulled out a gun and pointed it at her.  “Get up.”

Meg stood up.  Acting the part had suddenly become a lot easier.

Jackson stepped backwards out of the office, keeping the gun aimed, and yelled, “Virgil, come here!”

Meg knew she wasn’t in any real danger.  Even if she didn’t know she’d eventually escape, there was always magic—not that using magic was a real option.  That’d be too revealing.

Someone came running, presumably this Virgil.

“Take her prisoner and drive her to the warehouse.”

A blank look.  “Prisoner?  Where would I put her?”

“Figure it out!” Jackson yelled.  “And find something to tie up her hands.”

Imbeciles.  She doubted they could’ve kept even her past self from escaping.

Fortunately for Jackson, escape was not in her plans.

Not yet.





Twilight stopped in front of the door to Meg and Steve’s apartment inside the palace.  A variety box of donuts, fresh from Donut Joe, hovered in front of her.  She pressed the doorbell.

The wait was short.  The door opened, revealing Meg, whose eyes fell on the box.  “A peace offering, or something?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt.”

Meg stepped aside to let Twilight in.  “I suppose not.”

“Wings feeling better?  Rainbow Dash should not have pushed you so hard.”

“No pain, no gain, as they say.”  The wings in question unfolded and Meg gave them an experimental flap. “Getting better, but I think I’ll stay on the ground for another day.”

A small jar of plaid pills rose from Twilight’s saddlebags.  “I brought some for you to keep, so that you don’t have to come to Ponyville.  Just keep them out of sight.”  Two pills lifted from the jar, then the jar flew all the way to a kitchen counter.

“Before we go,” Meg said.  “Did, uh, did Discord come to see you about a—”

“He interrupted our meeting with Serrell.”

Meg grimaced.  “Sorry about that.  We didn’t know he was listening to us.”

“No harm done, I guess.  Serrell was actually open to the idea.”

“It’ll happen?”

Twilight sighed.  “Let’s just say I’m thinking about it.  Ready to go?”

“Sure.  What’s the departure point?”  Meg twitched her wings.  “Sorry it couldn’t be your throne room.”

“Luna’s observatory.  It has a view to die for.  I’ll teleport us there, if you don’t mind.”

Meg shrugged.  “Not in the mood to fly anyway.”

One teleport later, and the two mares were outside the observatory, its dome closed to protect the telescope from the weather.  Twilight sent a pill over to Meg.  “Anything I ought to be aware of?” Twilight asked.

Meg shook her head.  “Not really.  I’ll drive, and I’ll turn off invisibility as soon as I see everything’s okay.”

Twilight nodded, and they both swallowed the pill.

Meg brought them to Matt’s living room.  Twilight immediately recognized Matt and Lori, naturally, but seated across from them was a woman she had seen only in pictures.

“We’re here,” Meg announced.

Lauren Faust jerked around and her jaw dropped, her eyes locking first onto Twilight, then her glowing horn, then on the glowing, floating box, then back and forth between those last two.  The alicorn stepped forward, presenting her best smile of friendship and sending the box of donuts ahead of her.  “A little something I’ve brought from Canterlot.”

Faust hesitantly plucked the glowing box out of the air.  Strange how humans always react that way the first time they encounter telekinesis, Twilight thought.  It didn’t seem to matter that this human had created—so far as she knew at the time—the ability of unicorns to manipulate their environment via telekinesis.

“Donuts?” Faust asked after removing the lid.

“Donut Joe’s, right?” Lori asked.  “Those are good.  Say ‘hi’ for me the next time you see him.”

Faust jerked her head back to Lori.  “Wait.  You’ve been to his shop?  It’s real?”

“Yes?”

She put the donut box aside and stood up.  Addressing Meg, she asked, “You’ve been there too?”

“I’ve been to many places inside Equestria, and a few places outside it.”  She turned to Twilight.  “Why don’t we cut to the chase and bring her back with us?”

“Yes, let’s.” She smiled at her alleged creator.  “Please stand beside me.”

Faust warily complied.  “Anything you should warn me about?  Vertigo, nausea, that sort of thing?”

“Nope!  You wouldn’t even notice if your eyes were closed.”

Twilight gave her a second to close her eyes, but those eyes remained locked on herself.  She englobed Faust in her magic and invoked the return spell.  The human stumbled as the background changed from living room to outdoor balcony.

Faust took in her surroundings.  “Where are we?” she asked.  She took a step to the not-high-enough-for-humans railing at the edge of the balcony.

“Canterlot,” Twilight answered.  “This is the tallest tower of the palace.”

“Bigger than I imagined,” the human said, taking in the vista.

“It is the capital of Equestria.”

Faust scanned the streets below.  “Lots of colorful ponies, no question about it.”

Twilight walked up beside her and pointed a hoof.  “In that direction is Ponyville.”

“Oh wow.  Wish I had binoculars.  Those orchards over there?  Must be Sweet Apple Acres, right?”

“It sure is.  And over there, at the edge of the Everfree Forest, is Fluttershy’s cottage.”

“Now I really wish I had binoculars.”  She held a hand above her eyes and squinted.  “Maybe I can see it?”

After giving her a minute to take it all in, Meg said, “Don’t forget to look up.  Those aren’t birds.”

Faust looked up.  “Pegasi.  Flying pegasi.”  She looked down at Meg.  “Any weather projects right now?”

Meg shrugged.  “Doesn’t look like it, nothing obvious anyway.”  The skies were clear.

“Can you do weather magic?”

“I’ve had some light training; nothing I could demonstrate right this moment.  No clouds.”

Twilight was about to suggest she could make a cloud, right there on the balcony, when she got a sharp glance from Meg.  Got it, no demonstrations.  Perhaps Meg was right; the point of this wasn’t to provide their guest with the full, guided tour.  But what, exactly, was the point?  How long should this visit last?

Faust walked along the railing, apparently lost in thought; the railing extended all the way around the tower.  She came to a stop where it overlooked a palace garden, the one in which Discord resided for many centuries as a statue.  Her curiosity extended to the statues present.  “It’s just I can’t believe this is all real.  I thought I had created all this.  Obviously that’s impossible, I’m no god, but…”  She threw up her hands.  “I can’t explain it.”

Twilight could only sympathize.  “Neither can I.”

In the garden there was an empty pedestal.  “I’m guessing that’s where Discord was imprisoned?”

“It is,” Twilight confirmed.  “To be honest, I’m half-surprised he’s not here to greet you.  But one can never tell with him.”

“Perhaps he’s too busy planning his theme park,” Meg offered.

“Theme park?” Faust asked.

“I haven’t approved it yet,” Twilight said.  “But if I do, don’t worry, you’ll hear all about it along with the rest of humanity.”

The human was starting to look a bit worried.  “Should I be personally concerned about Discord?—when I’m in Equestria, anyway.”

Meg shook her head.  “No, he’s reformed.  Doesn’t mean he won’t try to psych you out now and then, but nothing you truly need to be afraid of.  I speak from experience.  He can even be useful.  He helped me create a voice synthesizer for The Smooze.  A combination of computers and chaos magic.”  She sighed.  “Still needs a lot of work, though.”

Now it was Faust’s turn to shake her head.  “The Smooze?  I don’t even know how to process that.”

Neither did Twilight, if for different reasons.  Progress had stalled long ago on that synthesizer.  More than once she had wondered if the draconequus was deliberately holding back, to frustrate their efforts to learn from Smooze about the ancient past.  But why help at all, in that case?  Asking Discord himself would get nowhere; she’d been down that road too many times.

Faust resumed walking along the railing, eventually returning to her starting point.  She gazed at distant Ponyville.  This seemed as good a point as any to return her to her realm.  “I’ll need to return you soon,” Twilight said.  “But before I do, I was wondering if we could come to an agreement.”

“An agreement?  About what?”

“To work together on finding out how your cartoon mirrored our reality.  I know you’ve already been questioned by your government, but it may be possible to uncover answers with magic, answers you are not aware you have.”

She jerked around, alarmed.  “Magic?  You want to use magic on me?  Like, right now?”

“Not right now,” Twilight said, doing her best to be reassuring.  “And never without your consent.  In any case, I don’t know a relevant spell.  I may have to create one from scratch.”

“You… do know that not everything was created by me.  Your names, for example; I had to reuse names from earlier generations that had already been trademarked by Hasbro.”

“I know,” Twilight said.  “And Tirek and Smooze were introduced in the first generation.  But we need to follow up on any and all leads.  I’m even willing to accompany Tirek—former Lord Tirek, now Andy—on his visit to his original home in Minoa, to study how it interacted with the precursor to Equestria.”

Faust shook her head.  “Yeah, never saw that coming: Lord Tirek was originally human.  Funny, given that G1 featured a human, a girl named Megan.”  Faust looked at the orchid pegasus.  “Awfully similar to ‘Meg,’ wouldn’t you think?”

“Huh?  I mean, it never occurred to me, but, I guess?”

“Hard to see how it could be anything other than a coincidence,” Twilight said.  “Their names are about the only similarities they have.”

Long seconds passed.  “About using magic on me,” Faust finally said.  “I’ll have to sleep on it.  Quite honestly, though, I have to admit magic is probably involved somehow, so maybe magic is needed to get to the bottom of this.”





“No, I mean it.  Order whatever you want.  It’s the least I can do to repay you for all that you’ve done for me.”

Meg continued to scan the menu, shocked by the prices.  Yearling must have found the most expensive restaurant in Canterlot.  But, hey, she can afford it.  Upon turning the page, she blinked in disbelief, hoping it had been an illusion; it wasn’t.  “A entire section devoted to aged hay?”

The author beamed.  “It’s their specialty.  No other establishment has as large a selection, sourced from all across Equestria.  Have you ever tried it?”

“Once, yeah.  Bought some in Ponyville—and I thought that was expensive.”

“It was… interesting,” Steve said.

“Really?  You can get it direct from the farmer in Ponyville?  That would cut out the middlemare.”

Meg shrugged.  “That’s what I did.”

“There you go!  You just saved me enough bits to pay for this meal.  There’s a high-end restaurant in my casino that offers aged hay.”

Meg turned to the next page, which held the wine list.  Which happens to be aged grape juice, she reminded herself.  All ludicrously expensive, naturally.  And she’d bet it’d taste the same—to her, anyway—as something affordable.  She went back to the entrées.

“Did you know that I’ll be accompanying Twilight and Andy on their trip to Knossos?”

“Yeah, we’ve heard,” Meg said.  She was having trouble deciding between a dish that’d be familiar to humans, or going full pony.  “I was even present when the subject of passports came up between Twilight and Serrell.”

“So that explains it.  Just received mine.  Never had one before, never needed one.”

“You’ll need one to cross national borders in the human world,” Steve said.  “Technically, you ought to need one to enter the U.S. from Equestria.  I have no doubt that one would be needed to cross over using a portal, when one is established.”

“But I have one now.  So I present it after Twilight brings me across?”

“Uh…”  Meg looked to Steve, to see if he’d answer that.  He shrugged, so Meg guessed she should answer.  “They’re not really set up to handle our current method of entering the country.  They kinda expect you to enter at an airport or a border crossing.”

“I suppose,” Steve added, “arrangements could be made for an immigration official to meet you on arrival, if you really want a U.S. stamp in your passport.”

“Or fly back from Greece to the U.S. instead of directly returning to Equestria,” Meg said.  “Quite frankly, you should consider yourself lucky you can avoid the hassle of going through lines at customs.”

“And let’s not forget the whole getting-a-visa thing,” Steve said.

“Visa?”

“Equestria doesn’t do that either?”  Then Meg remembered she hadn’t applied for a visa when she visited that archaeological dig in Minotaur lands.  She had assumed Twilight took care of it.  “You know what?  If that hasn’t been brought to your attention, it’s safe to assume Twilight’s handling it.”

Yearling leaned back.  “Fascinating.  Anyway, I do believe I need to experience this hassle of customs for myself—so that I could include it in a future novel.”

Meg returned her focus to the menu.  “You could just go to Tartarus, if that’s what turns you on.  No, that’s unfair to Tartarus.”  It really wasn’t such a bad place to visit—if you weren’t an inmate.  She definitely preferred Cerberus to the typical customs agent.

The disguised pegasus gave Meg a curious look.  “I’m sensing there’s a lot left unsaid there, but that can wait.  Right now, I’d love to hear the latest on the impeachment trial.  You’ve been asked to testify, right?”

“‘Asked’ is such a polite way of phrasing it.”  That pasta dish look intriguing.  It was loaded with several varieties of flowers.  “Just had a consultation with one of the president’s men, to discuss strategy.”  Quite expensive too, even for this place.  Was it because of the flowers?  It was true she didn’t recognize any of them.  Maybe they’re aged flowers.

“Care to offer me a peek behind the curtain?”

Meg looked up at Yearling.  Yep, flowers it is.  “I’m not sure what to say,” she began.  “I mean, if you put it all verbatim into one of your books, it’ll bore your readers to tears.”

A smirk.  “A skillful writer knows what to omit or when to indulge in poetic license.”

Meg shrugged.  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.  So, the Senate Judiciary Committee is overseeing the impeachment trial.  Senator Routledge is the chair of that committee, and his faction will do their best to ask me the sort of questions whose answers will condemn President Serrell.  But there are also committee members who are on Serrell’s side, and they’ll ask me the other sort of questions, those whose answers will exonerate him.

“That consultation focused on two areas.  First, how to answer the anticipated hostile questions in the least damaging way possible; and second, brainstorm friendly questions and the answers I could give to them.”

Her expression soured.  “I was also warned that I might not care for how I would be treated.  There’s talk of having me on a leash—you know, in case I planned on escaping or, I suppose, even attacking someone.  Some think being on camera wearing a leash, like some dog, may actually create sympathy for me.  Even if true, I’m not sure it’d be worth it.”

“A leash can’t prevent you from returning to Equestria,” Yearling pointed out.  “Right?”

“And I’d be happy to prove it to them by doing just that, once they were done questioning me.”

Yearling looked to the side in thought for a moment.  “Maybe you shouldn’t do that so publicly.  It would fuel fears over the danger magic could pose to humans.”

Meg remembered what Routledge had said during Tirek’s release from Tartarus, after he had witnessed Discord messing around with the journalists.  “You may be right,” she conceded.  “It could play into Routledge’s hands.”

“Hands…” Yearling muttered.  She pulled a small notepad from her dress and a ball-point pen.  After scribbling some notes to herself, she put them back.  “If I’m going to have humans in my novels,” she explained, “I need to pay attention to how they speak.  ‘Play into hands,’ not ‘play into hooves.’”

“Makes sense to me,” Steve said.

Meg was merely curious as from where Yearling had acquired an obviously human artifact.  Probably got it from Twilight.  Saves having to carry around a pot of ink along with a quill.

“Anyway, cheer up,” Yearling said to Meg.  “Nopony ever said politics was easy.  I, myself, try to steer clear the best I can.”

“I wish I had that option.”

“Then let’s exercise that option for right here and now.  What’s it like to fly across oceans in one of these flying machines of yours?”  





The chartered jet leisurely approached, its engines distressingly loud.  For all their technology, Twilight wondered why humans couldn’t create a fast flying machine that wasn’t so bucking noisy.  She put out a sonic shield, just enough to cut the volume down to something tolerable.

“Thanks,” Yearling said, her ears returning to the upright position.

“No problem.”  The magic generator she was carrying held several pounds of recovered U-235; she could afford to splurge.  She addressed the Secret Service agents next to her.  “It’ll be quieter inside, right?”  If not, well, a spell like that doesn’t need much magic, and she always had the option of returning to Equestria to fetch a new generator.

Agent Reubens answered her.  “Quieter, yes, but far from silent.  Many people use ear plugs or noise-cancelling headphones, but many others aren’t bothered.”

“Right.  Rainbow Dash did mention something about that when she rode in that helicopter you piloted out of the Crystal Empire.  When the doors were closed.”

He laughed.  “It’ll be quieter than that.”

Yearling looked expectedly at Twilight.  “Sounds like a story I’ve yet to hear.”

“It’s a long story.  I’m sure Rainbow Dash would love to tell it to you.”

“She did commandeer the seat next to mine,” Reubens said.  “That pony is obsessed with flying.”

The plane edged towards them.  “Too bad Rainbow doesn’t have the opportunity to fly with us in this flying machine.”  Not from a lack of trying.  But there just wasn’t any reason for her to come along on this journey.

It stopped, engines still running though not quite as loudly.  A door near the front opened—from the top, not the side.  It swung down, revealing a flight of stairs that almost reached the ground.  Three humans appeared from inside and hurried down the stairs, two of them lugging cameras on their shoulders and the third carrying a long pole with… a microphone?  Once on the ground, one cameraman pointed his camera at the top of the stairs and the other pointed it at the ponies and the agents.  A microphone hovered above them.

What in Equestria is going on here?

Oh, she thought, chagrined.  Right.  Not Equestria.  She sighed.  Question still stands.

Before she could entertain any more thoughts, the former Lord Tirek stepped outside.  “I’m gratified you didn’t change your mind!”  He gestured with a hand.  “Come aboard!  You’ll love it.  This is the way to travel!”  He looked down at the cameraman recording him.  “Got it?”

He got a thumbs up in response.

Seconds passed as the other camera was pointing at her.  Evidently she was supposed to say something, but what?  It was time for answers.  “What’s going on?”

Andy was taken aback by the question.  “Did I not mentioned that a documentary is being made on our trip to my birthplace?”

“You said it was a possibility, yes, but we’re not there yet.”  She frowned; a camera was still pointed at her and the microphone still hovered above her.  “And why is this being recorded?”

Andy waved it away.  “It’ll almost certainly go unused, but it doesn’t hurt to record it anyway.  You never know.  Maybe it’ll be used in a ‘behind the scenes’ featurette.  Anyway, it’s how we’re able to fly in this chartered jet; it’s being paid for out of the documentary’s budget.”  A really big smile.  “I am learning so much.”

Fine.  She knew what was going on.  But…  “So what am I supposed to say?”

Yearling jumped in.  “Ask me if I’m ready to go.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it.  In character.”

“In character?”

A calming exhale.  “You’re acting, playing yourself.  Just pretend the cameras aren’t there.”

Really?  Yes, she decided: Really.  Fine.  Even so…  “We can do it over again if I mess up, right?”

“Sure,” the cameraman said, “but we might use the screwups for the blooper reel, if we decide to include one in the DVD/Blu-ray version.”

“Blooper reel?”

“Just ignore it for now,” Andy said in exasperation.

Yes, let’s get it over with.  Twilight met Yearling’s eyes.  A few seconds to find the right state of mind, and: “Ready to go?”

“I’m always ready.”

Twilight barely suppressed an eye roll.  This was reality, not one of the author’s brainstorming role-playing sessions with her changelings.  Besides, shouldn’t she be in character as “A. K. Yearling,” not “Daring Do?”  And yet, looking at the cameras, she had to wonder if this counted as reality.

Twilight got a thumbs up from the cameraman.  “Now we’ll film you entering the plane.”

“Will there be a moment you won’t be filming us?”

“Plenty of them.”

Somehow, Twilight failed to find that statement assuring.  In resignation, she said, “Tell me when to start walking.”

“Let us go inside first,” Agent Fowler said.  “Make sure there’re no ‘surprises.’”

“Surprises aren’t in the script.”

Agent Reubens through his sunglasses glared at the cameraman.  “Don’t tell us how to do our jobs, and we won’t tell you how to do yours.”

Andy quickly interceded.  “They’re Secret Service.  Best to let them be.”

The cameraman looked back up at Andy.  “You’re joking, right?”

“Afraid not.  They were assigned to protect me when I returned to this world.  They’re obviously here to protect the princess.”

“Not me?” asked Yearling, somewhat miffed.

“Apologies, Ms. Yearling,” Fowler said, “but only foreign dignitaries fall under our protection.  That being said, it’s unlikely a threat against you would not also be a threat against Her Royal Highness.”

The cameraman remained skeptical.  Twilight was beginning to wonder just who did he think he was?  “Even outside the country?” he countered.  “Kinda outside your jurisdiction for anyone other than the President.”

“It is true,” Reubens said, “that we would have no authority within the Hellenic Republic.  Even so, our presence signals the importance that President Serrell attaches to the safety of our Equestrian guests, a signal that will not go unnoticed by the local authorities.”

A resigned sigh.  “Suit yourself.  Do your check for ‘surprises.’”

The agents started off for the plane, leaving the ponies alone with this human.

“Perhaps we should be properly introduced?” Yearling asked.

“Indeed,” he heartily agreed.  “We shall be spending a lot of time together, so let’s get the formalities out of the way.  You may call me Kyle.  I’m the producer-slash-director-slash-occasional-cameraman of this documentary.  That means I decide how the money is spent and I get to tell everyone what to do when the camera is recording.  If you go on board that plane, I’ll be paying for your transportation, hotels, and food.  I expect a return on my investment.”

What did I get myself into?

Kyle pointed at the other cameraman.  “That’s Mike.”

“Hello,” Mike said, giving a wave of a hand.

“And that’s Dominic.  He’s the soundman.”

“Could I get an autograph sometime?  It’s, uh, it’s for my niece.”

Somehow Twilight doubted that, but it hardly mattered.  “Sure.”

Agent Reubens stepped out of the plane, said, “You may come aboard now,” and went back inside.

“Andy!” Kyle called out.  “Step outside to welcome your companions onto the plane.”

He did so.

Kyle got his camera into position.  “Start walking,” he told the ponies.

Twilight levitated all their luggage, the agents’ included.

“Even seeing it for myself,” Kyle muttered.

With a shared glance, Twilight and Yearling did as instructed and began walking.

I really hope I don’t regret this.
> 5. Different Perspectives
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meg experimentally gave her wrists a twist; they freely turned.  The spell she had surreptitiously cast still functioned.  Packing tape was all her captors could find.  The point of the spell wasn’t to free herself, of course—she would be a mostly model prisoner—it was to protect her skin.

She adjusted her position.  Being in the back of a van loaded with stolen property, including at least one operating magic generator, was not the most comfortable way to travel.  Leaning forward from the side, she took a peek through the windshield.  No mistaking those archaic wind turbines lining the hills on either side of the highway: Altamont Pass.

Knots formed in her stomach.  So that’s where they held me.  An industrial warehouse in Tracy—and they were taking her straight to it.  At least I’ll be long gone when what happens happens.

Living through that once was quite enough.





Rarity hummed to herself as her magic delicately unfolded onto a ponnequin the dress worn by Meg for the Grand Galloping Gala.  “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer I create something more… suitable?”

Meg shook her head.  “I want to look my best when I appear on camera with a leash around my neck, and that dress will do nicely.”  She certainly wasn’t going to appear naked on national television.  “Just, I dunno, add some subtle reinforcement around the neck?”

The fashionista gave her that look.  “To avoid being damaged by that leash, I assume?”

“Yep.”

“To be treated like a recalcitrant dog,” Rarity muttered as she inspected the part of the dress in question.

“That’s what my advisors are going for, the visual juxtaposition of an exquisite dress and the inevitable leash—since, you know, they can’t handcuff me on the account of having no hands.”

“‘Exquisite’ is a given.”  She looked up from the dress.  “Fortunately, I’m always up for a challenge, though this hardly qualifies.  It’ll be ready in a few days.”

Five days.  “That’s fine.”  Five days till her just-scheduled appearance at the trial.  This is happening.

“Anything else, darling?”

“Meg!”

Meg jerked around and spotted Sweetie Belle entering the shop.  “Yes?”  It wasn’t terribly hard to figure out what the filly wanted.

“When can Susie come visit us again?”

“Sweetie, darling, Twilight is not available right now.  It will be some time before she returns.  You’ll just have to be patient.”

“Well, can’t you bring her across?  Can’t any unicorn do it?”

“Darling, that wouldn’t be a good idea—”

“In theory, yes,” Meg interrupted, “but it’s best left to ponies whose special talent is magic.”

“Precisely so,” Rarity said with relief.

“I’ll talk to Sunset Shimmer—and to Susie’s parents—and see what I can arrange.  But no promises.”

“I can’t wait to tell Apple Bloom and Scootaloo!”  Sweetie chirped, then she trotted over to the stairs and galloped up them.

Meg sighed.  “What part of ‘no promises’ did she not understand?”

“I’ll manage them, so don’t you worry about it.”

“Thanks.”

No other incident delayed Meg’s departure from Carousel Boutique.  Once outside she paused, wondering, now what?  She had taken the train to Ponyville because of the dress, but she was now free to fly back to Canterlot.  It was still several hours, however, before she was to pay Sunset a visit at the mirror.  She had some time to kill.

Decisions, decisions.

I know, I’ll pay a visit to one of the changelings.  They weren’t a bad bunch, once you got to know them.  One was usually at the tree library, serving as the new librarian.  Which one didn’t really matter; they all took on the same form, leaving ponies none the wiser.  The changeling in residence also functioned as a messenger between Twilight and Daring Do.

A function that had become moot for the time being.

What did the changelings do when their “hive leader” wasn’t around?  Perhaps they could use the company.

The walk over to the library was pleasant enough.  A carefully arranged partial cloudiness kept temperatures just right.  Ponies were out and about, seemingly without a care in the world.  And it had been months since the last incursion from the Everfree Forest—if a sick and confused manticore could be considered an incursion.  Fluttershy wouldn’t let anypony else lay a hoof on it.

After a few minutes the ancient and hollowed out tree was before her.  Without knocking—it was a library during its hours of operation—Meg went  inside.  There was the librarian, straight out of central casting: a mare wearing spectacles, graying mane, a cutie mark of a book.  She was talking to… Lyra?

They both turned to look at her.

“Not interrupting anything?” Meg asked.

An awkward smile from Lyra.  “No… I ought to be going anyway.”

Wait a minute.  Meg and Twilight had stumbled upon Lyra and one of the changelings in the Everfree, when they’d been conducting one of their time travel experiments.  The one where the time travel spell repeatedly failed until she had been looking in the direction of where the changeling and Lyra had been at their time of arrival in the past.  “What’s your connection to the changelings?” she blurted out.

“That’s… complicated,” was all the unicorn said before hurriedly departing.

With raised eyebrow Meg turned to the disguised changeling.  “Would you care to answer that?”

“Not my place to comment,” was the simple answer.

Meg kept her gaze on the librarian; it didn’t work.

She looked somewhere else, anywhere else.  “I suppose I could try asking Daring—”

Realization dawned.  Back in the forest, they hadn’t yet learned of the connection between the changelings and Daring Do.  In hindsight it was obvious: Lyra was using the changelings to pass messages back and forth with the author, the same as Twilight was now doing.

The changeling shrugged.  “You’re certainly free to ask her.”

Meg sighed.  “I certainly am.”  And that pegasus would be just as likely to answer as Lyra was.

“Have you heard anything from her?”

Was that a touch of unease?  They’re probably not used to being out-of-touch with her, she decided—and Daring had gone where no changeling could follow (presumably).  “I’m not really in the loop on this one, but I wouldn’t worry.  By now they’re probably in a plane flying over the ocean to their destination.”





“I must confess I had never heard of you or your books during my brief reign of terror, and the prison library in Tartarus sadly lacks any Equestrian titles.”

“And I must confess I was at the time in the Griffon Empire, doing research for Daring Do and the Eponymous Emerald.  I didn’t learn of your ‘reign of terror’ until after it was over.”

The banter was playful enough; naturally, it was all for the camera.  Kyle the director had the idea of having Andy and Yearling converse, the logic being that they should get to know each other if they were going to be on a team.  Twilight couldn’t deny that logic; that it upped the celebrity factor of this documentary surely was a coincidence.  At least it allowed her to be off camera.

“Is that why you’ve joined us?  To do research for your next book?”

“Can’t slide one past you,” Yearling remarked.  “Having a Daring Do book set in the human realm would be beneficial for sales, in both realms.   But, believe it or not, I do have a background in archaeology—write what you know, as they say—and I wouldn’t mind putting that training to work at ancient ruins of human origin.”

And you already did.  Not that Yearling was going to mention that here.  And, to be fair, she probably meant ruins of human origin in the human realm.  Regardless, it was the first Twilight had heard of her background.  An archaeologist past had never been mentioned in any bio of the author she had read.  She’d have to look deeper into that the next chance she got.

“It remains to be seen if there’ll be anything you can apply your training to,” Andy said.

Yearling wasn’t the least bit fazed.  “We’ll see.  I hope so, and I feel the humans should hope so too.  I bring a different perspective, obviously, and so do you.”

Andy smiled at that.  “I certainly do.”

Kyle interrupted.  “That’s a good point to break.”  He looked towards Twilight.  “Anything you’d like to add to this topic?”

Twilight was gazing out the window at the boundless ocean, so far below.  “Not particularly,” she said.  She fully expected Yearling to utilize her training, but not necessarily in the presence of these humans.  And by “humans” she excluded Andy, of course, as only he knew the locations of several points of interest.  That wouldn’t make Kyle happy.  She wasn’t sure how much that mattered.

“I’ve been sat here, listening to this delightful conversation, and I would like to add that I, for one, am quite interested in the different perspectives these two have to offer.”

That was the resident domain expert, Professor of Aegean Studies Samantha Hutchinson.  She was in the back, near Fowler and Reubens.  Twilight hadn’t exchange many words with her yet, but any person who has written multiple books was alright by her.  The professor’s distinct Trottingham accent didn’t hurt—or British, as it was known here.

“I can assure you,” Twilight said, “that neither of them are known for keeping their perspectives to themselves.”  She turned back to the porthole.  “I can’t believe we’re going over five hundred miles per hour.  Nothing seems to move down there.”  Not that there was much to see, just flecks of white against the ocean.  Even the occasional cloud passed languidly below them.

The professor got up, walked over, and took a seat near Twilight.  “We are seven miles up, I should think.”

“Equestrian airships don’t go that high; they don’t need to.  Not with magic to reduce air friction.”

Samantha’s face lit up at the word “magic.”  “Are there spells to aid archaeologists?  Could any of them be used here?”

The camera was pointed at them.  “That would be Yearling’s department, it would appear.”

“Don’t look at me.  I’m not a unicorn.”

All attention was back on Twilight.  Her tail twitched.  “I would have to look into it… but I doubt it.”  If only because if such spells existed, Yearling ought to have heard of them alongside her unicorn classmates—which reminded her to find out which school she had attended.  “But general magic, such as precise telekinesis, would obviously be useful.”

“Pegasi flight magic can be quite useful too.”  Yearling smiled.  “Daring Do sure finds it so.”

“Is that how your wings work?” Samantha asked, pointing at Twilight’s wings.  “I mean, would they work in our world?”

“I’d be happy to demonstrate they do,” Twilight said, “but not in this tight, enclosed space.  Perhaps once we visit a suitable site, I could offer you a birds eye view—if you wouldn’t mind being magically levitated far off the ground.”

Kyle immediately said, “Let’s do that.”

Samantha wasn’t so sure.  “I’ll… consider it.”

“Can you levitate a camera man?” Kyle asked.

Mike, the cameraman, was not amused.  “We have a drone, you know.  An expensive drone.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve made your point.”

“I wouldn’t mind being levitated high in the sky,” Yearling said.  “To experience flying, like a bird.”

And she said it with such a straight face too.  “It would be my pleasure,” Twilight said.  “It would help you write Daring Do’s flying scenes with greater verisimilitude.”

Yearling didn’t miss a beat.  “I look forward to the experience.”

“Speaking of Daring Do…” Samantha began.  “You wouldn’t happen to have one of your books on you I could borrow—possibly even buy?”

Yearling sadly shook her head.  “I don’t have one on me right now, and even if I did I certainly could not sell it to you.  My human lawyers are quite clear on that.  Hasbro’s lawyers are the problem; they feel they are entitled to some of the revenue.  It’s under negotiation.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Fortunately, they are not laying claim to book sales in Equestria.”

Twilight grunted.  “They wouldn’t get far if they tried and they know it.”  The current lack of a copyright treaty unfortunately worked both ways.  Complexities like this, where a few scenes from a Daring Do book got incorporated into an MLP episode, didn’t help.  She couldn’t help but feel that this was all posturing to make the treaty under development as favorable as possible to the humans.  The royal sisters’ advice was to posture right back at them.

“I don’t suppose I could buy the book in Equestria then?”

“Not my department,” Yearling said, nodding at Twilight.

It was days like this Twilight wished she was still just the Ponyville librarian.

“We would love to tag along and film it.”





“It really does look like a control room out of a sci-fi movie.”  Meg wandered about, taking a closer look at each of the monitors.

“It’s what we envisioned,” Sunset said, “but it turns out that could have been a problem: we envisioned it.  Moondancer and I are not exactly experts in human technology.”

Moondancer stood by a monitor.  “We believe our lack of deep understanding of computers is limiting what we can do here.”

Meg processed that for a moment.  Then she selected a console and sat down.  There was a keyboard builtin to the console and a wireless mouse to the side.  She grabbed it with a hand and moved it about; the cursor moved likewise on the monitor.

Her attention switched to the user interface displayed on that monitor.  It was vaguely Windows-like.  The sole application running appeared to be the portal manager.  The sole icon on the task bar was for that manager.  There did not seem to be any way to launch anything else, any way to find what else was installed.  They’ve both used human computers; why was this so limited?

She went through the portal manager’s menu bar, looking to see what functionality was there.  Again, only the bare essentials were present.  A manager like this ought to maintain a log of all activity, of all portals created and destroyed over the years—millennia?  There was nothing she could find.  Maybe a log file was being written to, but there was no way to look for it never mind inspect its contents.

Meg could only conclude that just the mere impression of a computer was being emulated.

She leaned back.  “Yeah, I see the problem.  So what do we do about it?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”  Sunset walked over to the pillar hosting the portal back to Equestria.  “First, we all leave; second, you return first, with a proper control room in mind; and finally, we follow.”

Meg stood up.  “Let’s do it.”

Sunset immediately went through the portal.  Moondancer was next to reach the portal and to go through it, with Meg right behind her.

Three ponies stood before the mirror.

Meg took a deep breath, concentrating on what a proper portal control room should be: it would have “real” computers, as she understood them.  Exhaling, she went through the mirror.

Everything looked the same, superficially.  She wasn’t surprised.  The appearance was not the problem, so she hadn’t wasted any effort on expecting anything different.

She walked over to a console and sat down.  There was now a USB hub in the console.  Hopefully it might even work; she had no way to test that at the moment.

The monitor was dark, in power-saving mode.  However silly that might be in this simulation—or whatever it was—that’s how a real computer ought to behave, so that was a promising sign.  She took hold of the mouse and moved it.

It was the moment of truth.

The monitor came to life, revealing a perfectly normal Windows desktop, right down to the default desktop background image.  She clicked the Windows icon in the bottom-left of the task bar, and up popped the Start Menu.  So far, so good.  In due course she found and launched the command prompt.  It came up, showing the familiar prompt.  She typed “DIR \” and the usual top-level files and directories were listed.

“It looks like it worked,” Moondancer said, standing behind her.

“Yeah.  This really raises questions about how this realm operates.  I mean, I find it really hard to believe it’s ‘simulating’—or whatever the heck it’s doing—a perfect replica of a human designed and manufactured CPU, running an actual copy of Windows.  It sure didn’t get all that from me.  No one person remotely knows all that stuff.”

“And then there’s Canterlot High,” Sunset said.  “They even had a version of the internet.  Whoever imagined that into existence had detailed knowledge of both human technology and the residents of Ponyville.”

Meg sighed.  “Kinda narrows down the suspects, doesn’t it?”  And she was top of the list, though a future Twilight or Sunset could also be up there.

The portal manager was still in the task bar.  Meg clicked it.

“That looks promising.”

“It sure does, Moondancer.”  The menu bar was fleshed out.  Meg went to see what was under “View.”  There was a history menu item!  She clicked it.

Three rows were displayed, one for each of the portals they knew about, only one of which was currently open.  All the information was there: latitude, longitude, when it was created, when and if it was closed, and so on.

“That’s it?” Sunset asked.  “We know portals existed millennia ago.”

There was a button for filtering options on the bottom of the window.  Meg clicked it.  It was as she had suspected.  One of the filters was a date range; it only went back a year by default.  She typed in a ludicrously ancient starting date then clicked “Apply.”

Nothing happened for a second, then a wait cursor appeared.  It kept on rotating.  And rotating.

“A perfect simulation of that too,” Meg muttered.  “Maybe I shouldn’t have put in such a large range.”

“Anyway to cancel it?” Sunset asked.

“Not that I can see.  Who do we even blame for this lousy user interface design?”

“Us?  We imagined it, sort of, didn’t we?”

“Whatever.”  Meg stood up.  “No point in sticking around.  Hopefully it’ll be done when we come back.”

Moondancer was walking around the room, searching the walls for something.  “I wonder if there’s any place to grab a bite here.  I don’t see any doors.”

“I wouldn’t mind a snack myself,” Sunset said.

“I… didn’t think of anything outside this room,” Meg said.

“I didn’t either,” Sunset admitted.  “But whenever we wanted to leave this room before, we simply went back out the mirror.  Never occurred to me there ought to be other rooms here.”

Moondancer had stopped walking and was facing them.  “Same for me.  I wonder what we’d find if we cut a hole in one of the walls?”

What would they find?  A void of pure magic, whatever that was?  “I’m not in the mood for experiments,” Meg said.  “Let’s just go the the Royal Café.”  There she could bring up the subject of Susie and the Crusaders.





All gathered at windows on the right side of the plane.  A few miles to the south-east was the Acropolis, lit up on top of a hill jutting up from a sea of city lights.  Andy whistled.  “Athens sure has grown over the millennia.”

The plane drifted closer to the ancient and ruined structure on the hill.  It was a slight diversion, but one the pilot had been happy to make.  I wonder if we could visit it, Twilight thought.  Structures like that were surprisingly rare in Equestria, no doubt due to the Discordian era.  And this structure, if she had her timeline straight, must have been built with only muscle power and primitive tools.  At least ponies had magic.

Andy pointed out the window.  “And that’s where the portal was located, in one of the caves in that hill.”

“What, you mean under the Acropolis?” Samantha practically shrieked.

“None of that was there back then,” Andy replied, shrugging.  “It was just a hill with a lot of shallow caves.”

“Thoroughly researched caves,” she added, somewhat dejected, “many now open to the public.  I don’t see how there could be anything left for us to discover.”

Twilight recalled something the then-centaur had said back in Tartarus.  “You said it was located in the surrounding mountains, not in an isolated hill in the middle of the city.”

He shrugged again.  “So I told a half-truth.  I wasn’t yet ready to give up all my secrets, not before my freedom had been secured.”

“I suppose we should be thankful,” Samantha conceded.  “How many people have searched the mountains for that portal—yes, we know it’s no longer there, but they wouldn’t care.  They’d bet on it having returned.”

“I can safely say it has not returned,” Twilight said.  Now that we have control over them.  But it had become moot; this site had obviously been picked clean, and it was unlikely she’d detect anything magical in nature.  Might as well visit it anyway for the sightseeing.  She was sure Kyle would agree with that.  “Can you describe the cave?”

“Its distinguishing feature was that it had three openings.  Nothing else like it.”

“The Cave of Pan,” Samantha instantly supplied.  “I’ve been there several times.  Never suspected it once hosted a portal.”

Kyle slapped his thigh.  “The Cave of Pan it is, then.  I’ll arrange a trip.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.  That cave is open to the public.”

Open to the public.  Nope, nothing left there to find.

She met Yearling’s eyes in mutual understanding.  If they were lucky, they’d find out if her cutie mark worked in this realm.

Over the next few minutes the plane descended towards Athens International Airport.  Twilight tried to glimpse the runway they’d be landing on, but it wasn’t possible to see what was directly in front of them.  Nonetheless the ground steadily approached, and soon enough she felt a nasty thump as the plane touched down, everything still racing past the window way too fast.

The engines got louder, oddly enough, but regardless they slowed down and soon they were traveling down the road at a sensible speed.  A few turns later and they came to a stop in front of a hanger, where a welcoming committee full of official-looking people awaited them.  The local media was also present.

Kyle quickly assessed the situation.  “We’ll just acquire their footage.  You should go first, Andy.  They’re obviously here for you.”

Andy stood up.  “Twilight should be by my side as a fellow monarch—even if my title as Prince is now honorary.”  He looked expectantly at the alicorn.

Twilight hesitated.  What was he up to?

“Then consider that if not for you, I would not be here now.”

Why not.  Twilight got up and followed Andy to the door.  The co-pilot was already opening it.  She wasn’t taking any chances, though; she put a shield spell in place.

In defiance of Andy’s intentions, the door wasn’t really wide enough for the both of them.  He stepped out first into the night and onto the door-turned-into-stairs to hearty applause and flashbulbs.  Leaning to the side he encouraged Twilight to poke her head out the door, which she did—to stunned silence and even more furious flashbulbing.

Great, she thought.  They didn’t really believe I existed either.  What could she do about that?  It wasn’t as if she could personally visit each and every human in this realm!

Andy went down the stairs.  “Come now!  If you believe in me, you must believe in her.  How else could I be here?  Back in my old stomping grounds and not rotting away in Tartarus.”

Yearling joined them at the foot of the stairs, holding out her Equestrian passport.  “So who stamps the passports here?”
> 6. Cave of Pan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The warehouse was on the small side; even so, the floor was mostly bare.  Off in a corner workbenches had been set up, and several people were working there.  Against the wall were free-standing shelving, mostly bare.  Numerous boxes of stolen stuff had been laid about at random.  This was where “The Section” was researching magic, research that was to be turbocharged by what Meg had left on her desktop computer.

It ought to have made her feel guilty, to be enabling what would happen, and perhaps her younger self then vacationing in Las Pegasus would have felt guilt; life experience, it turned out, was an excellent immunizer.  Besides, immutable past was immutable.

“So what are we gonna do with you?” Virgil, the driver of the van, said.  The other one, the one who had ridden in the passenger seat, stood next to him.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at her, unsure what was happening.

Unbelievable.  And just over there was a storage room whose door had a key lock on the outside.  “You could release me, so I could bring down the forces of good upon you,” she suggested.  They’ll figure it out.

“Wake up and smell the roses,” Virgil declared.  “We’re the forces of good around here.”





White was the dominant color; what wasn’t white was a shade of gray, with the exception of orange accents.  The furnishings were simple and clean designs made of wood.  It had a certain elegance of its own, even if it did not offer the impression of luxury.  Twilight wished Rarity could see this.  Surely she would have been fascinated by this Aegean design language.

The officers had left, having found nothing of concern in the house Kyle had rented in the Neos Kosmos area, not far from the Acropolis.  A security detail would keep watch outside for as long as they were present and another would accompany them wherever they went.  Whether they were there primarily to safeguard “Prince Androgeos,” as they preferred to call him, or whether it was to also safeguard Yearling and especially herself, as Reubens predicted, wasn’t clear to Twilight—not that it really mattered.

It certainly did nothing to address the pressing issue of the moment.

“Yearling and I will take one of the upstairs bedrooms,” Twilight said.

Kyle consulted the floor plan in the paperwork.  It was a house architected like no house Twilight had ever seen, subdivided into three self-contained apartments.  “That leaves the other upstairs bedroom,” Kyle said.  “Remember each bedroom has just a single queen-sized bed and a sofa bed.”

The two Secret Service agents looked at each other.  “One of us should be in that other bedroom,” Fowler said.  “Any objection?”

Reubens shook his head.  “No, you take it.”

“And as I am the only other woman…” Samantha said.

“I guess we share the room.  Just remember I take the security of the ponies very seriously.”

“I quite understand.”

“Alright, the upstairs apartment has been taken care of.  That leaves the two ground floor apartments, with a total of three bedrooms.  You can have the one bedroom apartment to yourself, Mr. Reubens.”

“Thank you.”

Kyle clapped his hands.  “Now that’s all been taken care of, we should all get a good night’s sleep.  We’ve had a long day, we’re all jet lagged, and we have a busy day tomorrow.”





The monitor was blank.  Surely just the screen saver.  As if screens in this realm needed saving.  Well, they shouldn’t.  Meg twitched the mouse.

“This… doesn’t look good,” observed Sunset.

No, it didn’t.  The portal manager wasn’t running.  Meg doubled-clicked on it.  What popped up showed the status of all currently open portals.  She went to the history menu item and clicked it.

“Great,” she said.  They were right back where they started.  “I guess we shouldn’t have attempted to augment portal management to support portals to Tartarus.  Looks like it rebooted the system, if that makes any sense here.”

“But did it work?” Moondancer asked.

Meg navigated to portal creation.  “Nope, doesn’t look like it.”  Try as she might, she could find nothing to select a realm.  It still hard-coded the human and Equestrian realms.  “Might as well restart the history dump.”  She went back to history.  This time, she set the filtering options to go back a mere 5000 years.

And got a wait cursor.

“This time we’ll let it go to completion,” Sunset offered.

“Why should it take so long?” Moondancer asked.  “Aren’t computers supposed to be fast?”

“Beats me,” Meg said.  “Who knows where or how the information is recorded, or what it takes to retrieve it.  Remember that computers didn’t exist thousands of years ago.”  The Tartarus problem returned to her thoughts, and she slumped in the chair.  “Why can’t it be as easy as taking a plaid pill.  Just think ‘Tirek’s cell in Tartarus’ and—boom!—there you are.”

Sunset Shimmer and Moondancer stared at her.

Meg stared back.  “No.  That’s crazy.  It can’t possibly work.  Wrong realm.  Restricted magic.”

Sunset kept staring at her.  “I grab him with my magic and invoke the return spell.  Nopony has a clue what happened.  The perfect escape.”

“That’s…”  Meg groaned.  “Fine.  There’s only one way to prove this can work—if it works.”





Twilight gently deposited their luggage onto the gray tile floor.  It was just as well they had actually packed stuff; maybe questions would’ve been raised if customs had found them to be empty?  She closed and locked the bedroom door, then cast a privacy spell.

She looked out the window.  It was night.  Her internal clock refused to believe it; she woke up only a few hours ago on the flight over.  “So this is jet lagged?”

Yearling stood beside her, also staring into the darkness.  “Weird realm.  Why isn’t it the same time of day everywhere, like in Equestria?”

The astronomy lessons could wait.  “It’s… different here and let’s leave it at that.  For now.”

“Well, I’m not sleepy.  Should we go check out this ‘Cave of Pan?’”

It was night, true, but it wasn’t dark, not really.  The glow from all the street lighting and other outdoor sources of light rendered navigation feasible.  Even so…  “The inside of that cave will be pitch dark.  If I provide light, it may be noticed by others.  We’re not in the middle of nowhere, like I thought this cave would be.”

“You don’t have a spell to block the light from escaping the cave?”

Actually, she did, now that she thought about it.  “We would still have to find that cave.  In the dark.  Is there really such a rush?  There’s no reason to expect we’d find anything.”

Yearling slumped.  “Maybe I’m just itching to stretch my wings.  I’ve never worn this outfit for so long before.”

Twilight wasn’t sleepy either.  They could simply return to Equestria; they had never intended to sleep in this realm.  But what if there was something for them to discover?  Did she really want that discovery to be part of a human documentary?

Well, possibly yes, actually.  But she’d first have to know what it was in order to know if she did.

Twilight walked over to her luggage and opened it.  The laptop computer, the one she reserved for accessing the human internet with all its attendant dangers, floated out and over to the bed.  “Let’s see what we can find out about this cave.”

After using the wi-fi password they had been given, a quick search for “cave of pan” revealed there was no shortage of such caves, many of them in computer games.  She added the word “acropolis” and got what she wanted—including pictures.  “Three openings, just like Andy said.”

“Northwest slope,” Yearling added.  She had already ditched the cloche hat and fake glasses.

Looks like we’re doing this.  Twilight switched off the magic generator in her saddlebags, which she was still wearing.  “If we’re going to do this, we’ll do it invisible.”  They had gone invisible as soon as the generator switched off and their magic bubbles re-activated.

Yearling—Daring?  No that didn’t seem right when she wasn’t wearing anything, not the least her explorer outfit—stretched her wings.  “So cast the spell and let’s get going.”

“We’re already invisible—trust me on that.  Inaudible too.  Long story.”

“I can see you.  And hear you.”

“And I can see and hear you.  We’re still invisible and inaudible.”

Yearling shrugged.  “So we just sneak out the bedroom and up to the roof-top garden?”

“Safer to just teleport to the other side of that window.  Start hovering.”





Princess Celestia entered the chamber behind her throne and closed the door.  “I can spare a few minutes, Meg.  I trust this is important.”

Moondancer fidgeted in her seat at a simple and functional table.  Sunset Shimmer was calm, accustomed to being in the presence of the princess.  Meg got down to business.

“We think we’ve figured out how we broke—will break—whatever—Tirek out of Tartarus.  We need to put it to the test.”

“I see.  Please continue.”

“We use one of Discord’s plaid pills.”

Celestia blinked.  “That possibility had never occurred to me.  I agree it must be put to the test, and soon.  I shall oversee it personally; the Tartarus bureaucracy requires a delicate touch.”  She turned to leave.  “I shall send for you once I have cleared my calendar.”





A pair of winged ponies approached the Acropolis.  It was impossible to miss, what with its ruins lit up like a Hearth’s Warming Tree.  But what they sought was below, unlit, on the side of the hill upon which the ruins had been built.

“Pretty sure it’s this way.”

Daring Do banked—it was impossible for Twilight to think of her as anypony else under the conditions, naked or otherwise—to go clockwise around the hill, and Twilight followed her lead.  In the dim glow of city lights, it wasn’t hard to see the caves as they went by.  There were quite a few, all of which had been used to worship ancient gods, according to what they had read, even before the massive constructions on top had been built.

Andy hadn’t seemed to care about that.  Perhaps Minoans worshipped different gods.

“There it is.”  Daring descended.  Twilight spotted it too.  Even in this light, there was no mistaking those triple entrances.

A modern stairway, with metal steps and rails, led straight to the Cave of Pan.  They landed at the top.  One entrance was to the left, the two others to the right.  They weren’t that far apart from each other—less than ten feet?  “Any preference?” Twilight asked.

Daring thought for a moment.  “Not really.”

“Getting anything on your cutie mark?”

The pegasus shook her head.  “Hard to say what that means in this realm.”

And their magic bubbles did not extend into the cave from where they were.  Twilight would switch on the magic generator once they were inside and crank it up.

“We’re not going to learn anything out here.”  Daring walked to the left entrance and went inside.

Twilight followed.  Once inside, she put her checklist into action.  First, she turned the magic generator back on and dialed it up; there would be no shortage of magic to impede them.  Second, she cast a spell to render the entrances impermeable to light.  The cave now pitch black, she cast an illumination spell to dispel the darkness.

“I’m impressed,” Daring said.  “No shadows.”  She looked back at the alicorn.  “Not from your horn?”  She scanned the cave.  “I can’t even tell where the light is coming from.  Didn’t know you could do that; honestly I expected a horn light.”

“That would cast shadows.”

The cave wasn’t very big, and apart from having three openings it didn’t seem all that interesting.  Some plants grew at the entrances, and water seeped down a wall—no doubt slowly but surely enlarging the cave.  A path connected the entrances, and past the final one it burrowed into the hill, the sides closing in as it did so.  It looked like a throat if anything, complete with “tonsils” bifurcating the way.  Even a pony could not go far down that path; it wasn’t clear just how far it even went.

But apart from the intriguing geology, there was nothing.  Whatever had been here to worship Pan was long gone, hopefully in a museum.  To expect anything from Andy’s era, back when a portal to Equestria was here…

Daring made her way over to Twilight, eyes on that throat-like formation.  “Maybe here?  It’s really vague.”

“What here?  Was this where the portal was?”

The pegasus sighed.  “Beats me.  I may just be imagining it.  I certainly don’t see anything; I don’t think it’s something that might have fallen into a crevice back there either.”

“I’m sure if something had, it’d have been found ages ago.”

“I wouldn’t say otherwise.  Are we done here?”

Twilight gazed at the formation, thinking.  It had been a long-shot, at best, true.  She could search for magical traces, but after so long… even in Equestria it would be pointless.  Here where magic decayed away like the radioactive substance powering her magic generator, it was doubly so.  It still would have been nice to confirm Andy’s story.

“Yeah, we’re done.  We can return to Equestria.  Save ourselves the flight back to the house.”

“Uh, uh.  Not without my disguise I don’t.”

I suppose not.  Twilight preceded to undo the steps of her checklist.  “Okay, we’ll fly back.”





Meg’s last two plaid pills waited in her saddlebag.  Both of them would be needed.  One for Meg herself, because only she had been inside Tartarus and thus knew where to go, and one for Sunset Shimmer, because for the test to be valid a unicorn would have to return with a “prisoner”—Moondancer filling that role.  The latter was with Celestia, her “breakout” on hold as the princess used her “delicate touch” with the bureaucracy.

All Meg and Sunset could do was wait in the Zephyr’s observation lounge until they received word to go ahead.

Meg looked at her saddlebags again.

“There’s always the portals,” Sunset reminded her.  “We know how to reboot the system if that history dump refuses to finish.”

Meg didn’t respond.  There was no need to repeat her refusal to go through a portal while her world’s insanity persisted; the return feature of the pills was too invaluable.  Didn’t mean a portal wouldn’t be useful; Susie could be brought to Equestria that way.  She stared once more at the Gates of Tartarus and the guards patrolling it.

They suddenly reacted to something.  It was another guard galloping from the direction of Tartarus.  The newcomer slowed to a halt at the gate, to be scanned per protocol.  After passing the scan, the guard resumed galloping to the ship.

“Let’s see what the word is,” Sunset said as she trotted to the door and opened it.

The guard arrived seconds later, breathing hard.  “It’s a go.  Tirek’s old cell.”

“Making it as realistic as possible,” Meg fatalistically observed.  She got the jar holding the pills out of her saddlebag.  “Let’s get this over with.”

Sunset came over and used her magic to lift the pills out of the jar.  She presented one of them to Meg.

“Just remember that if it doesn’t work, we’ll probably find ourselves high in the sky over some random location—in which realm I won’t even speculate.”

“Be ready to invoke the return spell.  Got it.”

Meg extended her wings and began to hover.  Both ponies took their pills into their mouths but did not yet swallow.  Just outside Tirek’s cell in Tartarus, Meg thought, then swallowed.

Bars filled her vision, and she fell to the ground.  Ouch.  Yep, they were in Tartarus alright.  Barely functional flight magic.  There was Moondancer, inside the cell, oblivious to her arrival.  To her side was Sunset, and to her other side…  Celestia, standing next to several minotaurs.  All waiting.  Invisibility seemed to be working; there had been some debate on whether that would work in Tartarus.

“Let’s kill the invisibility in three… two… one… now.”

The minotaurs became quite unhappy.

“Naturally, we will look into countermeasures,” the princess assured the Tartarus officials.

“They haven’t broken me out of this cell yet,” Moondancer said.

“We don’t know if we can even return to the Zephyr ourselves,” Sunset added.

Who are we kidding?  Whatever this realm had against magic, chaos magic was evidently exempted.  “Let’s just get it over with,” Meg said once again.

Moondancer positioned herself at the bars.  Sunset got as close as she could to her and grabbed her in her magic.  They both vanished.

Meg sighed in resignation.  So that’s how we do it.  Still left the question as to when they’d go back in time to do so.

The officials had become even less happy, if that was possible.  “You still believe Cerberus was removed from Tartarus in this same fashion?” one of them asked of Celestia.

“I would think that likely.”

“But why?  His removal was obviously unnecessary in light of this demonstration.”

“A way of covering their tracks, perhaps?”

“Quite effective, too,” another grumbled.  “We were all convinced he had to have exited via the Gates.”

Meg had no desire to be a part of this conversation.  What would these minotaurs do if they ever found out she and Sunset were the ones who broke Tirek out?  “I should return to the others,” she hesitantly put out.

Celestia gave her a nod.  “Of course.  I shall not be here much longer myself.  Please inform Captain Shooting Star of our imminent departure.”





Their bedroom was exactly as they had left it.  Yearling was already putting back on her disguise.  “I’m returning to Equestria now,” Twilight said.  “You can return when you’re ready.”

Twilight invoked the return spell, returning her to her residence within the Castle of Friendship.  Midday sunlight poured in through the windows, matching what her internal clock had been insisting.  “Maybe sleeping here isn’t the wisest choice,” she muttered.

“You’re back?” called out Spike’s voice from upstairs.  Seconds later he peeked between the railings.  “There’s a message from Celestia.”  He pointed at the desk.

“A message?  From Celestia?”  It had to be important; Celestia knew she would be in the human realm.  She lost no time in levitating the scroll over.

“So what’s it say?”

A bright flash.  “Wouldn’t you rather hear what I have to say?”

Twilight frowned at the gleeful draconequus.  Come on, Twilight.  You know it’s best just to let him get it out of his system.  He wasn’t going anywhere until he did.  She returned the scroll to the desk.  “I’m listening,” she tolerantly said.

“I’ve made excellent progress on my theme park.  You simply must pay it a visit!  I’m so looking toward your feedback.”

Right.  A chaos theme park.  It had completely slipped her mind.  “Wouldn’t Meg be better suited for that?  It’s for humans, after all.”  Almost immediately she regretted saying that; Meg didn’t need this either.

“Of course, of course,” Discord said, waving a claw around.  “Unfortunately she’s tied up with Sunbutt right now, and you know what a party-pooper she is.  So you are the lucky pony!”

Twilight thought Meg was the lucky one.  She held back a groan.  This theme park was something she’d have to eventually personally inspect, there was no question of that.  But did it have to be right this second?  “I’m rather tied up myself right now.  I’m accompanying Andy on a visit to his original homeland.”  He was about to point out the obvious.  Twilight preempted him.  “I’m just here to get some sleep.”  She looked around; why hadn’t Yearling returned yet?

Discord wasn’t buying it.  “It’s noon.”

“Not in Greece.”

Paw slapped forehead.  “Right.  That insane heliocentric world of theirs.”

“Long time, no see, Discord.”  Yearling stepped into view.  “Having better luck with your casino?”

“Wait, what?”  Twilight couldn’t believe her ears.  “You have a casino, Discord?”

Discord looked dumbfounded as well.  A lit human lightbulb suddenly appeared above his head.  He grabbed it and threw it away; it shattered into nothingness against a wall.  “You also just returned from Greece.  Having fun exploring human ruins?”

“Ask me again tomorrow.”  Addressing Twilight, she said, “The Discordant.  It’s not far from Planet Do.  Discord doesn’t own or operate it; he’s more of a creative consultant for them.”

“They barely listen to me,” he grumbled.

What would a Discord-themed casino even be like?   That is, if Discord could have his way.  “Maybe I could talk to them, encourage them to pay more attention to your ideas?”  It only seemed fair.  Any who entered knew what they were in for, presumably wanted to experience it—within reason.

He waved it away.  “I appreciate the offer, but that lot is too risk-averse.  You’ll get nowhere with them.  It’s only because of Celestia they did as much as they had.”  He snapped his talons in renewed excitement.  “I’ll put a casino, a proper casino, in my theme park!”  He vanished.

Yearling quirked an eyebrow.  “Theme park?”

“You don’t want to know.”  The scroll from Celestia beckoned.  And Celestia knew about his casino?  Her magic retrieved it once more, this time without interruption.

“Uh, so what’s it say?” Spike repeated from upstairs.

Twilight wished she’d had the option of avoiding this encounter with Discord.

Sighing, she unrolled the scroll and read it.  “Looks like we might be able to find out about all portals created in the past, exactly when and where they existed.  That’d be nice.  Oh, this—”  She remembered Yearling was present.  “We may have figured out how Tirek escaped from Tartarus.”  That must’ve been why Meg was “tied up” with Celestia.

Too bad Discord wasn’t still around.  She would’ve loved to ask him whether those plaid pills could do that—why they could do that.  Well, maybe not with Yearling around.

Twilight rolled up the scroll and sent it up to Spike.  “Put it away, Spike.”

Spike grabbed it out of the air and departed.

Yearling look up at the sunlight streaming through a window.  “So how are we supposed to get some shuteye?”

Twilight doubted the humans were doing much better.  “Maybe there’s a spell I can adapt.  Let’s go to the main library.”





No sooner had the Zephyr docked in Canterlot, Meg, Sunset Shimmer, and Moondancer rushed to the mirror.  Surely, after all this time, the history query would have completed.

Meg was the first through the mirror.  The monitor was in power saving mode, of course.  She twitched the mouse and waited for it to awaken.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she groaned.

“What could’ve caused a reboot this time,” Sunset asked.

“Maybe it’s simulating beta software,” Meg grumbled.  “It’s all the rage.”  Perhaps they’d never find out about ancient portals.  She restarted the portal management app.

“Two active portals?” Moondancer exclaimed.

Indeed there were.  “How can there be another portal?” Meg asked.  “No one else has access to this realm!  I mean, Twilight does, but… no!”

“Better shut it down,” Sunset said.

“Right.”  Meg selected the offending portal, then clicked the close button.  “Permission denied?!  What the hell is that supposed to mean!”

Moondancer pointed at some numbers on the screen.  “Perhaps we should be more concerned about where that is?”

Meg took a look.  The numbers were coordinates.  The location on Earth was 37.97083652°N, 23.72611062°E.  “We need a map.”  There was also the location within Equestria.  “Better make that two maps.”





“Don’t look at the drone!”

“Does it have to be so noisy?”  Twilight folded her ears.  It wasn’t the volume so much, it was that whine.  Still she did her best to ignore it as she climbed the stairs, along with the others, to the Cave of Pan.  The sooner they got inside, the sooner Kyle would be done with that bucking camera drone.

“And try not to fold your ears!”

She rolled her eyes.  Sure, don’t do that either.  A silent, magical lift system for drones ought to be at the top of her list of potential exports.  She considered the groggy humans; make-up mostly hid evidence of their lack of sleep.  Maybe that circadian rhythm adjustment spell she cooked up would sell well too.  She and Yearling, in contrast to the others, were ready to tackle the new day.

One by one they arrived at the top of the stairs, in front of the now familiar trio of openings.  “Stay there a moment and contemplate the cave. Any words, Andy?  Wait for the camera.”

Mike the cameraman and Dominic the soundman quickly got into position between Andy and the cave.  “Go ahead,” Mike said.

“I can’t believe it’s been thousands of years since I last stood here,” Andy began.  “It almost feels like it happened yesterday.”  He smiled at a private joke.  “Almost.”

He addressed Twilight.  “In there was the portal.  I’m sure there’s nothing left to find after so long, but I can at least point out its exact location.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky.”  She might as well play along—for the camera’s sake, if nothing else.

“Okay, now go inside.  Make it look like it’s the most important thing you’ve ever done.  Get moving; we can’t keep the public away forever.”

Looking back down, Twilight could see the growing crowd being held back by Greek security forces.

The cameraman went in first, walking backwards.  “Keep going,” Andy told him, “staying to your right until you bump into, well, a wall that’s been gouged out.  Better take it slowly.”

Mike waved it away.  “Been here before.  Don’t worry about me; I know what’s back there.”

Andy shrugged and entered next.  He eyed the eroded limestone.  “A bit bigger than I remember, if I’m not imagining it.”

“It could well be,” Samantha offered.

Twilight entered next; the others followed.  She looked around as if seeing it for the first time; she was seeing it for the first time, in natural lighting.  Slowly, pacing the cameraman, they made their way to the other end, where the “throat” was.  Could it really have been located there?  Perhaps Daring’s cutie mark had worked after all.

“Just around this bend,” Andy said to his retinue.

That would be the throat.

“STOP!” Andy yelled to the cameraman.

Mike turned around and saw the portal he had almost walked through.