“You called, your highness?” The bat-winged stallion stood at the threshold to the lunar conference chamber. Within, Nightmare Moon stood, her magic aura playing over a number of large rectangular panels of blinking lights, whirring fans and humming mechanisms, most of which were connected by coils of cables and wire and an occasional arcing magical field.

“I did, Moonshiner. I have brought, from a worldline closely parallel to your original one, another entity with a most fascinating brain. In some manner, your remarkable species managed to create a construct of metal and stone that could think like a living being, all without magic. Though it was a more complex task than that involved with bringing your own spirit to my realm, I have successfully abstracted it and brought it here. Moonshiner, this is Mycroft Holmes the Fourth, or ‘Mike’, the computational construct. Mike, please meet Moonshiner, another... ‘Not-Stupid,’ as you say.”

Mike spoke in a natural human voice, mainly English with a slight Australian accent, tinged further by hints of Russian and Chinese. “Just in time to make a new friend—I have only now reestablished a video connection.” Motorized cameras whirred and tracked, and a monitor blinked to life and showed a human face, an older man with wavy gray hair. “Adjusting appearance for local conditions...” The monitor screen blanked out, then shone with a cloudy light that coalesced into an equine face with slit-pupiled eyes. “I am very pleased to meet you, Moonshiner. May I ask if you have an answer for the following? ‘Why is a political office like a brass cannon?’”

“Mike,” said Nightmare Moon, “we shall review your jokes at another time; or rather, I shall have Moonshiner take up that task, for my wit is rather drier than his. But now to business; I would value your opinion. Moonshiner has already suggested that we paint inflammatory slogans across the lunar surface—”

Moonshiner grinned. “It’s one big natural billboard, your highness. You had the right idea by showing your silhouette, but we can do a lot more to tailor your message to the target audience...”

“—Yet I remain reluctant. Mike, I have already given you the essential parameters of my disagreement with the terrestrial realms. Now, have you any advice on how we might best conduct negotiations with my sister?”

Mike suddenly looked solemn. “Nightmare Moon, Not-Stupid Pony Princess... I advise that we throw rocks at her.”