Rainbow Dash looked up at the building before her. In a way, she marveled at its size, even though it was smaller than the others around it by far. The endless skyscrapers had given way to a clear spot, a center dedicated to “smaller” buildings such as this. Somehow, though, the museum seemed larger. It was in part because of its sturdy stone structure, built to a kind of gothic architecture that was stunningly grotesque, and in part because even for a museum it was huge, with nearly fifty stories. More than that, though, it was what Rainbow Dash knew to be inside that terrified her.

“You’re not going in?” she said, turning to Five.

“Contrary to your belief, I do not live to serve you,” said Five. “I have business to attend to here.” Five raised her wing, lifting Philomena from her back. “My sister greatly enjoys the museum, however. She shall join you.”

“It’s weird how you call her ‘sister’,” said Rainbow Dash, accepting the bird onto her back.

“Also,” said Five, raising a hologram. “I am transferring one hundred bits to you.” The hologram morphed, and a digital image of a bit appeared between them, complete with a smiling image of Celestia’s face on the front. Rainbow Dash reached out and took it; as she did, it dissipated, apparently added to whatever her ‘account’ was. “I’m also giving you a translation program. As, apparently, they have failed to teach you to read.”

“I can read just fine,” protested Rainbow Dash.

“Old Equestrian, yes, which is a dead language. If you have errors, ask Philomena. She reads better than you.”

Before Rainbow Dash could protest, Five waved and stepped down the marble stairs to the museum. Rainbow Dash did not known what “business” Five had, but knew that she was probably better off not knowing.

She looked up at the museum and took a deep breath. “I don’t know about this. I don’t think this is a good idea.” Philomena warbled and poked Rainbow Dash in the back of the head. “You’re right,” said Rainbow Dash, her organic legs shaking. “I made a promise to them. I’m going to keep it. I have to know…”

From the distance, Five watched Rainbow Dash pause. For a time, she wondered if the mare would bother entering, or if she would just turn and run. Either outcome, of course, was acceptable; what Rainbow Dash did was not actually of consequence.

In her head, Five momentarily took bets on the outcome, but saw after several seconds that Rainbow Dash was as brave as the legends had suggested. Despite her pause, the Pegasus held her head high and joined the other patrons entering the museum.

Five waited for a moment. She needed Rainbow Dash to get out of the way. Their paths could not cross while they were inside, or else Rainbow Dash might become suspicious. Rainbow Dash was strangely naïve, but not unintelligent, and more importantly, she was excessively self-righteous. Five was certain that Rainbow Dash would neither understand nor agree with what she was intending to do, not just in the museum, but as a whole.

“Hey, bat!” said a voice. Five turned her head to see a police pony approaching her. “No loitering!”

Five narrowed her eyes and sent out a bolt of shadow into the pony’s consciousness. His eyes suddenly widened.

“Spiders!” he cried. “SO MANY SPIDERS! Get them off! GET THEM OFF!!”

He jumped around, tearing at his clothing and skin, trying to remove the imaginary spiders and finally fell into some nearby shrubbery, whimpering and crying out in fear while other ponies watched, many laughing.

“That should be long enough,” said Five. She shut down her illusion, but not before forcing all her imagined spiders to plunge their fangs into her target, causing him to scream out in agony while the ponies around him laughed even harder. Five then made her own way into the museum.

Rainbow Dash was not the greatest fan of museums. They had always seemed boring to her. As she looked around the grand lobby, though, she suddenly felt very small. It occurred to her that she was basically in a museum of the future, or at least what was the future to her.

There were some exhibits in the front hall, those chosen those designed to be impressive. They had a complete hydra skeleton, as well as several medieval suits of armor, holding their swords and pole-axes at the ready, alongside impressive pieces of crystal recovered from all over the land. There was even one case that contained something that resembled armor. As Rainbow Dash got closer, though, she realized that it was actually the fragments of something resembling a larger version of a Pegasus, made of silver. It felt vaguely familiar to Rainbow Dash, and she knew that it was the remains of a creature called an Argasi; she did not know where, but she assumed that she had read about it somewhere.

“Do you require any assistance?” asked a kindly voice from beside Rainbow Dash. Rainbow Dash turned, her mind expecting to see a uniformed, well-dressed museum attendant beside her. Instead, she saw a translucent blue hologram of a pony, the center of which was populated by a barely visible hovering winged machine.

“Hello,” said Rainbow Dash. “Um…are you a mare or stallion?”

“I am a female AI,” said the hologram, “thank you for your courtesy in asking. My name is Curator. I oversee primary functions in this facility. How may I assist you?”

“I was…um…I was looking for the exhibit about Twilight and Pinkie Pie and the others.”

“Are you referring to our Mane Six Exhibit?”

The pun in the name sounded terrible, but Rainbow Dash nodded.

“From your appearance, I have determined that it is likely that you are a fan of Rainbow Dash.”

“You could say that.”

Curator began walking- -or rather, hovering, considering her body was nothing more than light projected around a robotic drone- -and motioned for Rainbow Dash to follow. “Then you are in luck. The Equestria History Museum has recently acquired one of her Wonderbolt uniforms from a private collector. Many ponies do not realize it, but Wonderbolts actually were issued several custom-made uniforms.”

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash. “Three flightsuits, dress formals, battle gear, and a funerary uniform.” The last one made Rainbow Dash’s spirit fall. The funerary uniform was almost never used, but she realized that the others must have donned theirs at her own funeral.

“You are indeed knowledgeable,” said the AI, seemingly somewhat surprised. “Are you also aware that Rainbow Dash, in particular, had a sixth uniform?”

“Yeah,” said Rainbow Dash, feeling strange being quizzed about herself. “A high-altitude suit.”

“Which, unfortunately, was thought to be destroyed during her untimely demise.” An elevator door opened as Curator approached, and she motioned for Rainbow Dash to enter, then then followed herself. “However,” she said as the door closed. “And this is not public knowledge. I am only informing you because I myself am also a fan of Rainbow Dash. Recently, we purchased for a significant sum of money what our artifact-seekers believe to be fragments of the actual flight suit she died in.”

“How did you get that?” asked Rainbow Dash, confused. She had, after all, not died. She had jumped in time, and crashed with her suit still on. Then she realized it. “That bat!” she swore.

“We are currently attempting to confirm provenance,” said Curator. “But blood stains match genetic projections of R- -” Curator’s image suddenly flickered, her words catching like a damaged record. For just a fraction of a second, Rainbow Dash thought that she saw the holographic flesh of the hologram peel away and a large, exposed eye stare directly at her with a vertical pupil.

“- -ainbow Dash,” said Curator, her form stabilizing.

“Are you okay?” asked Rainbow Dash. “You just…flickered.”

“No anomalies are detected in my recorded code,” said Curator. “No interruption in service was detected.” She suddenly started smiling in a way that a museum tour-guide probably should not have. “Perhaps you hallucinated.”

Five moved through the lobby of the museum quickly, watching for Rainbow Dash. If Rainbow Dash were smart, she would have read the directory and proceeded toward the tenth floor- -or at the very least asked the AI how to get there.

That was not Five’s destination, however. She instead took a staircase downstairs. Few ponies bothered to use the stairs, and even fewer went to the basement. It was filled mostly with the museum’s collection of surplus taxidermy and small-scale models of buildings throughout the world, both of which were just as easily observed digitally.

As Five stepped off the staircase, a museum guard walked by in the opposite direction. She glared at her- -as all ponies tended to do- -but she pretended to ignore him, and instead feigned tripping.

“Get off me!” she said, loudly, pushing Five back with great force. “Stupid bat! Are you rabid or just drunk?”

“I slipped,” said Five, watching the earth pony squirm slightly, not realizing what was going on. For a pony with no real magic, this guard was surprisingly perceptive to the invasion of her mind- -but not enough to really realize what was happening.

“I’ve got my eye on you,” said the guard. “They shouldn’t even let skinwings like you in this place.”

“You have a nice day too,” said Five, adjusting the guard’s mind to give her a profound phobia of teacups. The two then parted.

Five had gotten what she wanted. When the guard was out of sight, she lifted her metal-clad hoof and examined the hacked information. She had stolen access codes to the employee section, but in addition, she had taken a mental blueprint of facility from the guard’s mind- -as well as the information on her bank accounts. Unicorns could usually sense Five’s ancestral magic, but earth ponies were inevitably oblivious.

Everything was going according to plan, but she knew that she needed to hurry.

As the elevator had risen, Rainbow Dash’s fear and apprehension rose inside her. She had felt a powerful desire to run, to fly, and to escape, something made impossible by the metal confines of the elevator and the unblinking watch of the holographic pony beside her. She increasingly realized what she was about to face: the truth. She would see that her friends had moved beyond her, and left her behind, that they somehow lived and died without her, thinking she was gone.

Fortunately, however, Curator had brought Rainbow Dash to the one exhibit that could not possibly make her feel that way- -her own. When Rainbow Dash stepped out of the elevator, she was suddenly surrounded by more Rainbow Dash memorabilia than she had been in her whole life- -it even dwarfed Scootaloo’s weird and supposedly secret shrine to her.

“Wow,” said Rainbow Dash, her smile growing at all the rainbows and blue that seemed to fill the large room. “Look at all my- -I mean all this stuff!”

“I thought you would like it,” said Curator, smiling. “Please enjoy the exhibits. Remember, there is not flying permitted in the museum. If you need me, my AI can be accessed through your personal software.”

“What did you just call me?” said Rainbow Dash. When she looked back, though, Curator was already gone, having wandered away to do museum tour-guide things, something that apparently did not involve giving tours.

That was annoying, but actually, Rainbow Dash preferred it. She wanted to take the exhibits at her own pace. Slowly, she ventured out into the only kind of museum she could truly appreciate- -one about her.

It was almost overwhelming. The first thing she was drawn to were the several glass cases elevated off the ground containing the skin-tight blue Wonderbolt uniforms that used to belong to her. They seemed old and faded, and probably no longer stretched like they once had, but they were definitely hers. She could see where the scratches and tears to them had been repaired almost perfectly.

They were not something that she had ever thought she would see again. She was suddenly struck by a profound desire to put them back on, as if it would take her back to what she had once been, to the world she had been stolen from- -but she realized that they would no longer fit. Two of her legs had been replaced with metal and gold-colored plating; there was no skin for the light, breathable fabric to coat. Even if she could be allowed to wear them once more, they would never fit over her left legs.

There were three main uniforms, just as she expected, with one being badly torn from a fall she had taken saving a cadet from spiraling out of control early on, as well as three others: the dress uniform, the armor plated battle unicorm, and the darker, ornately armored funerary uniform. The last one made her shudder, knowing that Soarin and Spitfire would have worn ones just like it when- -

She turned her attention instead to two more glass cases. Both of them, surprisingly, contained dresses: one was the highly embarrassing one that she had forced Rarity to make her, and the other the dress she had worn to Twilight’s coronation.

Rainbow Dash approached the coronation dress, blushing at the idea that she had worn something so girly, even though she had really liked wearing it. Beneath it, there was a picture taken that day, with her and her friends, all smiling.

A tear formed in the corner of her eye, and she wiped it away before anypony could notice. Not that there were many, though. Surprisingly few ponies bothered to come to the museum, and the crowd was sparse, mostly consisting of a few elderly ponies and an excited school group, many of them wearing rainbow-colored wigs. Rainbow Dash found herself wondering how many of them were changelings or Incurse.

She continued through the exhibit. There were a few other artifacts, most of them relatively mundane aspects of her life. One of the most chilling was a jar of feathers, some badly burnt, which she imagined were being displayed as her last remains.

The rest seemed to be art. Much of it was in traditional Pegasus propaganda style: it inevitably showed her souring forward, leading other Wonderbolts to glorious victory, or flying alone through storm clouds. Many of them were complete with captions, which, fortunately, were written in a language that Rainbow Dash could read. Many of them said what would be expected: a picture of her flying into the foreground, leaving her signature contrail behind her with the word “Dash to Victory” above her head, or a line of Wonderbolts standing on a cloud runway, all saluting the Equestrian and Pegasi flags with the words “Do you have what it takes to be a Wonderbolt?”

One of the pictures in the gallery caught Rainbow Dash’s attention more than the others, which, though cool, were foreign and strange to her. The picture she saw was smaller and somewhat faded, but still clearly showed her, dressed in black armor, complete with wingblades, glaring at the camera beside several other ponies, including an unarmored Soarin.
Rainbow Dash raised her metal hoof toward the caption under the photograph. “Um…translate?” she said. A hologram splashed in front of her, resolving into a square translucent page. Text immediately appeared on it, as if it knew what she were trying to read.

“Image, taken year 1005 Third Era (153BT): Rainbow Dash and comrades during the Second Choggoth War,” she read. The rest of the text when on to explain her role in the war. Most of it, much to Rainbow Dash’s surprise, was incorrect. It said that she had fought in the war, but that was not at all true- -she, like Soarin, had been excluded from battle because of their blue coat color. Not that there really had been a “war”, though. The way the plaque read, it made it sound like there had been some great and glorious conflict against the monstrous Choggoth D27, when in fact nopony had actually been able to engage D27 head on. The real war had been in the form of destructive riots that had torn Equestria apart. Rainbow Dash had only donned a soldier’s armor to seem stronger, as though she actually could fight.

And Soarin- -seeing a picture of him made her sad. The Choggoth War had destroyed him. His comrades had turned their backs on him because of his color, and although they restored him to his status as a full Wonderbolt after the war, he was never the same. At one time, he and Rainbow Dash had had a relationship, and though she could not claim that she had ever loved him, she cared about him, and even after the romantic aspect of their relationship crashed and burned they remained friends.

After several moments of standing still, remembering, Rainbow Dash felt a peck on her neck, and realized that Philomena was trying to get her attention. She looked down and saw a filly, one of the school group, staring up at her with wide eyes. Although the filly was a unicorn, her red-orange color distantly reminded Rainbow Dash of Scootaloo.

“Are you Rainbow Dash?” said the Filly.

“Yeah, I- -ow!” She felt Philomena’s claws dig into her back, and saw the bird’s disapproving glare. Rainbow Dash sighed. “I’m afraid that’s top secret,” she said.

“You have to be!” said the Filly, pointing at Rainbow Dash’s cutie mark. “You even have the right mark!”

“Sorry,” said Rainbow Dash, wiping away another tear. “But she’s been dead for a long, long time.”

“Oh,” said the filly, also looking sad. “But that’s okay.”

“It is?” said Rainbow Dash. She did not think it was okay at all.

“Yeah. Because Rainbow Dash is my hero! When I grow up, I’m going to be a flyer, just like she was! I’ll even do a sonic rainboom, without using any technology at all, just like she did!”

Rainbow Dash smiled. “Well, that’s really cool and all. And Rainbow Dash was a pretty good idol…but you kind of need- -”

The unicorn puffed out her cheeks and lowered her head. Her stubby horn glowed with several sparks of yellow light, and then, suddenly, a pair of translucent wings appeared on her back. The tiny filly immediately fluttered into the air, her trajectory awkward and crooked, her legs flailing as she tried to stabilize herself.

“By Celestia’s glowing rump!” cried Rainbow Dash. “You’re flying!”

“I am!” said the filly, spreading out her wings and flying- -sideways- -into a nearby wall.

“Hey you!” cried a Curator hologram, running over. “No flying in the museum!”

The filly only laughed as she fluttered off toward her school group.

Rainbow Dash turned to Philomena, unable to stop smiling. “So the Pegasi can’t get off the ground, but the unicorns are growing wings…this is one weird future.”

Philomena only shrugged.

Five moved quickly through the employee section of the museum. She was careful not to draw attention to herself, however. Almost immediately after using the guard’s access codes to enter, she had found her way to the supply closet and stolen a uniform. With her wings and ears covered, there was little left of her that resembled a normal chiropteran. She lacked the standard vertical pupils and exposed fangs, as well as the characteristic tail formation. With a janitor’s uniform on, she just looked like another gray-coated, blue-eyed pony.

That did not mean that she could walk around freely, though. Most of the ponies that she passed dismissed her as just another janitor on break, but some were suspicious. If Five encountered one of those, she was usually able to sway their mind- -but not for unicorns. If a unicorn were to look too closely at her, it would destroy her entire plan.

And that was not her only problem. Ponies were, by definition, idiots. AI’s, however, were not. The employee breakrooms and internal service hallways had few cameras. Five’s research had determined that the museum used a Curator model AI, which meant that it probably would not give more than low-level scans of her as she passed, looking for easy identifiers like her cutie mark, at least in the outer facility. That would not be the case in higher security areas.

In the center of the employee section was a door. It lead further into the lower sections of the museum that were not available to the public, into secure regions. Five needed to get to it, to find her way to the depths of the vault where the personality core was being kept- -but could not simply walk to it. That would almost surely alert the museum AI.

So she instead moved silently past the ponies on their way to work, avoiding them as best as she could, until she reached an abandoned storage room. Five looked around, trying to find what she needed- -and then saw it: a grate to a vent. She checked the hologram of the museum’s internal maps- -not the published blueprints, of course, but the ones she received from the nano-scanner that she had planted on Rainbow Dash’s damaged flight suit- -and confirmed that this was indeed the correct vent.

She knelt down, using a tool in her gauntlet to remove the screws that held it in place. Then she pulled it off, and sighed. Architects were not nearly as foolish as they once had been; though large enough to accommodate large volumes of air, they were far too tolerate a pony.

“Buck me in the plot,” said Five, standing and removing her clothing, save for the system of straps and pouches that she wore by default. The vent was too tight for a pony- -but not for her.

She took a deep breath and reached up toward one of her forelegs. With a snap, she dislocated her shoulder. The pain was intense and sudden, as fresh as it always was, and she let out a thin whine of pain. In the sixty three years she had been alive, the pain of any wound had never managed to decrease. She had grown accustomed to it, but it still hurt, and dislocations were especially bad.

Five collapsed onto the ground and put her head into the vent. She then dislocated her other arm, and then wormed her way forward into the claustrophobic tunnel until her hips got in the way. Those were always the worst, but with a quick twist she tore both of her lower legs out of their sockets, leaving them trailing limply behind her. Every motion she made dragged the damaged joints of her limbs across their joints, and every motion was incredibly painful, but Five continued on, doing her best to ignore it, making her way toward her goal.

The exhibits, it seemed, had been placed in the order of their respective pony’s death. This thought was terrifying to Rainbow Dash once she realized it; the mystery of which friend she would see in the next chamber was impossibly stressful. To Rainbow Dash, it was like watching her friends be selected for death- -even though she knew, logically, that they had been dead for so very long.

The exhibit after Rainbow Dash’s was dedicated to Applejack. When Rainbow Dash entered it and realized who it was for, she was crushed. Applejack had been one of the only ponies in Equestria that could match Rainbow Dash athletically, and Rainbow Dash fondly remembered their occasional “friendly” competitions, including their yearly Running of the Leaves.

The exhibit was largely celebratory of Applejack’s life, complete with farm-themed decorations and genuine antique farm equipment taken from Sweet Apple Acres. Rainbow Dash remembered most of that equipment, and how Applejack, as pragmatic as she was, had taken great care of it. Now her plows and carts were corroded and rusted, the incomplete parts supported by transparent plastic rods into a semblance of the shapes they had once held.

The worst, though, came when Rainbow Dash realized just how early Applejack had died. Her friend had never made it past thirty five. With all her working, she had never even had a chance to marry, or, as far as Rainbow Dash could tell, find a special somepony, and she certainly never had children. She had instead been claimed by bone cancer, which the plaques hypothesized as coming from different sources.
The general consensus was that Applejack’s brief time in the Gloame, when she and the others had ventured into the toxic and cursed dimension to slay the demon D27, had badly irradiated her lower legs. The inevitable result was so horrible Rainbow Dash nearly threw up when she imagined it. The cancer ate away at the bones in her legs until, one day, she bucked a tree- -and never walked again.
Rainbow Dash had run out of that exhibit- -and directly into Pinkie Pie’s. The exhibit had been placed in a relatively small area, perhaps on purpose. The entire area was packed with relics and decorations, and the small proportions forced everything into a spastic collage that was breathtakingly Pinkie-esque.

The number of Pinkie Pie artifacts calmed Rainbow Dash slightly, reminding her of the numerous parties she had attended that Pinkie had thrown. She wished that Pinkie Pie could be with her again. Rainbow Dash really needed somepony who could make her smile.

Pinkie, it seemed, had lived marginally longer than Applejack, at least into her fifties. Several photographs also showed that she had borne two children, both fillies. According to the captions, however, the identities of both fathers had been taken to Pinkie’s grave.

“Pinkie Pie,” said Rainbow Dash, reading her translation out loud, “Shown with her sister, Maude, and two daughters: E^i, commonly called ‘Negative One’, and…” Rainbow Dash looked at the shy, brick-red filly with her mother’s curly hair in straw-yellow, hiding behind a middle-aged Pinkie Pie. “Apple Pie…That weasel!”

Inevitably, though, Rainbow Dash reached the end of the exhibit, and the description of how Pinkie Pie had met her end. She had accompanied Twilight, Fluttershy, and Rarity do a diplomatic summit in an attempt to avert war. Negotiations had broken down rapidly, though. Pinkie Pie had fallen in the ensuing battle. Every stallion, mare, colt and filly of the race that had murdered her had since been rendered extinct. What they had been called was not even listed.

The next exhibit was sickeningly pastel in color, and Rainbow Dash immediately knew that it belonged to Fluttershy. Unlike the previous three, however, there were comparatively few artifacts from Fluttershy’s life. Instead, there were pictures. Photographs and paintings covered the walls. Many Rainbow Dash recognized from Fluttershy’s short modeling career under Photo Finish, but others were not, apparently from later in her life. There were also a number of paintings, some of them showing Fluttershy in surprisingly suggestive positions and often very nearly nude.

Fluttershy’s exhibit also seemed to be the most popular, especially with stallions. From what Rainbow Dash had gathered, in the time it had taken for blue ponies to be associated with prostitution, Fluttershy had become the seen as the epitome of feminine beauty. She had, later in life, taken up modeling once again, this time under Rarity. Even in modern times- -what Rainbow Dash still thought of as “the future”- -artists from all over Equestria still paid tribute to Fluttershy with sculptures, paintings, songs, and holograms.

One strange thing, though, was that Fluttershy looked oddly similar in all the pictures. Even in real photographs from her life, she looked absolutely perfect. Even by age forty, Pinkie Pie had started to show some sign of aging- -becoming slightly more plump and developing wrinkles in the later photographs- -but even in pictures where Fluttershy would have been in her sixties, she still looked as perfect and youthful as she had in her twenties. Rainbow Dash eventually attributed it to makeup and photo-editing, but it was still strange.

In a smaller part of the exhibit, in the rear behind a support column, Rainbow Dash discovered that Fluttershy’s life had actually been far more than just suggestive pictures. The small glass case summarized how she had, toward the end of her life, began a life of activism against what she saw as horrible affronts to nature. Rainbow Dash was dismayed to see that Fluttershy had lived long enough to exist in a world where eating meat had become common, and a world where increasing technology and the rise of early Megatropoli had led to massive destruction of natural resources.

This had eventually led to a falling out between her and Twilight, who, by that time, was a full-fledged Princess and in support of increasing development. Fluttershy had wondered off into the woods, alone, and apparently died there.

Rainbow Dash had expected to be saddened by her friend’s deaths, but the situation was far worse than she had expected. So far, one had died of cancer at a ridiculously young age, one had been murdered, and one had been rejected by her friends and died alone. Rainbow Dash could feel her soul sinking within her. These were things she had not been meant to know, or at least not to have survived. She felt, more than anything, ashamed: at the fact that she had lived, and she was still young, but they had died.

Not for much longer, though. She had promised herself that she would see them one last time- -and there were still two more left to go.

Five stopped moving. The vent crawling was grueling, and she was sweating heavily. The sweat made moving easier, but it felt gross. Five hated sweating almost as much as she hated having her joints dislocated.

A light from a grate near her head indicated that she was near where she needed to be. Due to the angles, she could not see the hallway below well enough to know how many guards were present, but she assumed at least two.

Before pushing her way through the grate, she pulled back slightly, her skin tearing against the bolts in the vent. She had left a significant trail of blood through the metal, but that was not her problem; she was not required to clean it up.

Five tightened her chest into her stomach, and tried to think of the smell of fresh fruit and baked goods. She released a small gagging sound, which she tried to suppress, and then a tiny heave. A small piece of metal dropped out of her mouth.

Unfortunately, museums did not permit the carrying of firearms within the premises. Since Five had come in through the front door, she had not been allowed to take in her rifle. Of course, they only checked her on the outside.

More metal pieces came up, some of the sharper ones covered in blood. They clicked against the metal vent, and the silencer tried to roll away before being stopped by the edge of the grate. Five kept close track of them, counting them as they came out until she had all of them. She then extended one of her hoof forward- -not a trivial task, considering the tight space- -and separated her gauntlet into a number of individual effectors. Even in the dim light of the vent, she was able to assemble the small but powerful pistol relatively easily.

Five took a breath, recovering from having just passed a firearm in reverse through her esophagus. She visualized what she needed to do. This was no time for fun- -eliminations would need to be quick and precise. She did not know what kind of guards she would be facing, so she had planned accordingly, loading her gun with unicorn-horn bullets. Momentarily, she mused that the unicorn Flesh was the first pony who had been inside her for a long time, aside from any time she had tried to eat one.

Slowly, Five moved her body over the grate- -and then, with a surge of motion, burst through. As she fell, she relocated-her joints and took her pistol in her hands, ready to target the space in the guard’s head directly beneath their horns.

Instead of seeing guards, though, she found herself in a well-lit white hallway near her target door- -alone. A brief scan indicated that there were not even security cameras or any sort of magical protection present.

“Um…” she said to herself, sad that she was not going to be able to shoot a pony in the head. “Budget cuts, I guess…”

She approached the door slowly, the sounds of her hoof on the plastic-tiled floor echoing through the empty hallway. Nopony bothered to approach, though, which was strange. As she got nearer, though, she saw why.

The door itself was white, like the walls, but even Five could feel that it was enchanted, and strongly. Five raised her gauntlet to it and took several readings, and confirmed that it was enchanted- -and strongly. The door itself contained something that was likely a reinforcement spell, and the locks- -aside from having a rather complex digital security lock- -were augmented with a powerful securing spell.

Five sat down and opened a full suite of holograms. She began to work as quickly as she could, knowing that a guard could walk around the corner at any moment. Her first attempt was to use the nano-hacking suite that she had included in Rainbow Dash’s damaged flight suit, but she found that it was nonresponsive. She assumed that it must have been treated at some point; the scanner had survived, but the hacking equipment had been fried.

The next attempt was to hack the door directly. Five pulled off the face of the main lock, being careful not to damage it, and input a link to her own equipment where the reader was normally located. The digital lock was only a part of the magical lock, but it seemed to be the dominant element and therefore the weakest point.

It took her several seconds and a near overload to realize that she was not nearly skilled enough to get through, at least not without alerting the AI that was probably watching it extremely closely. That meant there was only one option.

Five deactivated her holograms and extended a knife from her gauntlet. The blade, which normally held an energy-channeled piece of cauterizing glass, now held a golden feather. She was going to have to cut through the door.

“Um…excuse me,” said a feminine voice to her left.

Five squeaked at a frequency too high for most ponies to even hear and jumped so high that she nearly fell back into the open vent on the ceiling. She immediately drew her pistol and pointed it toward the pony who had approached her when she was distracted- -and found herself pointing her gun at an equidroid.

“I’m so sorry!” it said, softly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I know it can be…startling.”

Five looked at the equidroid carefully. It was a metal-exterior version, mostly in brushed steel and low-brass, with a pair of glassy blue eyes and a standard skeletal-formation mouth that never moved, even when it spoke. Strangely, its face also included a small light above its right eye that glowed a pale amber color.

It was strange that Five could not identify the model or type of the equidroid, but based on its color scheme, she assumed that it belonged to the museum.

“Are you having trouble with the door? Here, let me help you.”

The equidroid approached the door and raised its hoof to the damaged panel. The indicator light on the door changed from red to violet, and the locking mechanism inside clicked. The door swung open outward, and Five was surprised by how thick it was- -it would have taken her days to cut through.

“Am I to assume that you are a new employee?” asked the equidroid, the white light over its eye nearly blinding Five.

“Um…sure?”

“Well, there’s no shame at all in asking for help. A proper lady always knows her limits.”

“Um, who are you?”

“Sub_Curator Unit Seven,” said the equidroid, matter-of-factly. “I am here to assist Curator in her duties. Are you looking for something in particular?”

“Um…” Five had no idea what was going on, but she may have just gotten extremely lucky. This equidroid was, apparently, a secondary AI, and, from the looks of it, not a an especially bright one. Which meant that it had access to the entire museum, including all vaults- -but was not smart enough to recognize that Five was not actually an employee. “Yes. I am an employee. I am here for…code upgrades on the subarchatecture for the Mane Six personality core.”

“I didn’t know the subarcatecture was bad,” said the equidroid, suddenly sounding far more curious. “But I recall Curator mentioning how there were some connectivity issues. Perhaps a bad driver frame? Hmm. Anyway, I know where that is. I can take you there!”

It seemed surprisingly happy to be helping, and it stepped through the door with an oddly jaunty gait. Five followed it slowly into the white halls of the main vault.
 

Rarity had gotten her own floor on the museum. According to the large, ornate plaque outside, it was due to the Rarity Corporation’s generous grant to the facility, and for lending the museum numerous private Rarity artifacts for display.

As Rainbow Dash entered, she walked through a large ring, much like the magic-disruptors that sometimes surrounded sporting events in her own time. As she did, it beeped. A female voice then indicated that Rainbow Dash was wearing a piece of clothing or equipment made by Rarity Corporation, causing several other museum-goers to look at her. Rainbow Dash distantly recalled that her legs had been made by someplace called “Rarity Corporation”, but she had not mentally made the link between that Rarity and her friend.

The exhibit itself seemed to confirm that effect. Rarity, it seemed, had lived much longer than her other friends, well into her nineties. In that time, she had become a highly successful fashion designer. A timeline on the wall indicated that her company, Carousel Boutique, had eventually evolved into Rarity Design, and over several centuries become Rarity Corporation. Apparently, from the descriptions, Rarity Corp. still produced clothing to some extent, but at present their main product was high-grade cybernetics. An especially eerie display showed several of the components that were currently in production, including numerous highly realistic pony eyes, as well as more artistic limbs and wings.

Much of the rest of the exhibit, however, was dedicated to Rarity’s clothing. Glass cases dotted the floor, each containing a different example of Rarity’s own work. Some of them Rainbow Dash actually recognized- -but many she did not. Some of the ones with later dates looked completely alien to her, with components of leather and black drab fabric and features that seemed impractical for just about any event.

The dresses themselves, though, were only a small part of what had happened in Rarity’s life. From the text and photographs in the cases on the edges, Rainbow Dash learned that Rarity had lead an especially interesting life, as if hers had made up for the shortness of her friends’.

She had, apparently, been a pony of great importance, dining with the wealthy and elite of Equestria, and at first Rainbow Dash was happy for her. Rarity had always wanted to be fabulous and elegant, and she seemed to have been born for high society.

However, there was a darker side to her story, one that the pages of the museum seemed to play up far more than the good aspects of her life. Rarity had been married and divorced three times, and in one cases her ex-husband had been promptly tried and acquitted in a brutal domestic violence. Life in high-society had also led to her addiction to something called “enhancement metal”, which she had struggled with for most of her life.

The latter half of her life got even weirder. There were several tabloid-type photographs of Rarity, her mane covered with a scarf and wearing thick glasses, with a mysterious stallion. The pictures were not clear, taken from a great distance, and the pony that Rarity was with was dressed in a cloak- -but the skin that he was showing was a strange combination of green and violet.

This pony, apparently, had been found with her through her life, and was rumored to have been her lover even when she was married. Nopony knew who he was, though; he had never been found, and it was one of the greatest Rarity-mysteries. Some hypothesized that he was the ruler of a foreign nation, perhaps a prince of some sort. Rainbow Dash liked that theory, because in the few pictures of them together, Rarity seemed so happy.

Due to failing health, Rarity retreated from public life in her eighties. She died at age ninety six.

Rainbow Dash’s feelings now became mixed. Even through the rough times, Rarity had lived her life. She had not been cut down early like the others- -but more importantly, she had outlived four of her friends. Rarity had seen Rainbow Dash “die”, as well as Applejack and Pinkie Pie, and had been forced to side with Twilight against Fluttershy. Rainbow Dash could not tell whose fate had been worse: Rarity, for having to actually be there when it happened, watching them go- -or herself, her chance to spend a lifetime with her friends taken from her early in life.

There was only one left so see, and Rainbow Dash made her way up a small set of stares, leaving her other friends behind. There was only one left, the only one that could possibly have understood Rainbow Dash’s pain.

The Twilight Sparkle exhibit could hardly be called an exhibit. Where Rarity had been given a floor, Twilight, being a Princess, had been given almost an entire wing. Rainbow Dash gaped at how much Twilight stuff there was, and how many artifacts there were.

From what she saw, it appeared that Twilight had been a prodigious mage in life, rivaling even Starswirl the Bearded. There were numerous working models that attempted to explain the spells and theories she had come up with, and several perpetual motion engines she had created that were still working, the spells inside them still churning away. Rainbow Dash was not an egghead, so she did not know what most of the descriptions of spells meant, but she was impressed. It seemed that much of Twilight’s research had been into numerous fields, ranging from disease treatment to enhancement metal addiction treatment- -with a considerable amount of effort focused on extending lifespans, none of which she seemed to have been successful at.

Her role as a Princess had also brought her to the center of Equestrian society. As Celestia and Luna pulled away from public appearances, Twilight had become increasingly the ruler of Equestria, negotiating peace treaties and forming critical relationships with diplomatic trade partners. The implication was that she was the best loved of all four Princesses.

Rainbow Dash was actually rather proud of all the things Twilight had done- -but something was bothering her, even more than the others. Twilight had been born a unicorn, but had been converted into an alicorn by the Elements of Harmony. Rainbow Dash’s mind clicked forward through her logic: Twilight was an alicorn, so she should have been immortal, or at least really long-lived. Yet, for some reason, there was no Twilight in this world. This idea frightened Rainbow Dash to no end.

Then, when she reached the head of the exhibit, near great insignias of the crest of the Princess of Friendship and just past the actual thrones taken from the Palace of Frienship and saw what was hanging on the wall, her heart sunk.

“No!” she cried, stepping back, looking up at the frame on the wall. There, under glass, was a pair of severed violet wings. The actual wings of Twilight Sparkle. “No!” cried Rainbow Dash, trying to look away, even though the image was burned into her mind.

“Excuse me,” said a Curator hologram crossing the room. “Is something wrong?”

“Something wrong?!” screamed Rainbow Dash. She pointed up at the wall. “How would this possibly be okay?!”

“I do not understand the question,” said Curator, seeming mildly annoyed.

“Her wings- -those are her wings!”

“Yes,” said Curator, smiling. “On death, Twilight Sparkle’s wings were removed and studied. They have provided significant information regarding the biology of alicorns.”

“Her wings! You- -you can’t just put a pony’s wings on display like that!”

“The wings are one of our most popular relics,” said Curator, confused. “As of yet, no pony has shown this degree of offense to the exhibit. If you have complains, they can be filed with the Department of- -”

“I don’t want to file a complaint!” screamed Rainbow Dash. “You- -you monsters!”

She broke down into tears. The other guests were staring at her, but she did not care. It was not just the wings- -it was seeing her friend like that. She knew how Twilight had died. In a way, she had always known. The museum had confirmed that, and the wings cemented it into her mind. One hundred twenty six after Rainbow Dash had met Twilight on the streets of Ponyville, Twilight had loaded a gun with a cerorite bullet and fired through her skull, ending her life. She had watched her best friends die, one by one, and then watched as Cadence, Celestia, and Luna were died as well. She had been alone, just as Rainbow Dash was now- -with nopony left that remembered her, the real her, or cared for her at all. The Princess of Friendship had watched immortal as time had taken away everypony she ever loved, and that had been what killed her long before the violet shard of cerorite had.

That was not even the worst part. Twilight was supposed to be immortal- -she could have lived into the future that Rainbow Dash found herself. Twilight was supposed to be there. If Twilight had not taken her own life, Rainbow Dash would not be alone. Rainbow Dash hated Twilight for doing that, for taking her friend from her- -and hated herself for her anger toward Twilight, knowing that she would have- -and was going to do- -the same thing.

So she sat beneath her friend’s severed princess wings, the last part of her last friend that she could even get near, and cried, not even caring about the ponies around her or the confused looking hologram. With Philomena on her shoulder- -perhaps the only being who could possibly understand what Rainbow Dash felt- -Rainbow Dash cried the tears that she had tried for so long to hold in.

With the equidroid leading her deeper into the vault system, Five found herself surprised how easy getting in actually had been. If she had known that all she would need to do was find a sub-AI, she would not have bothered dislocating her limbs and vent-crawling like some kind of video-game character.

Still, something felt strange. The white hallways inside the vault were oddly lacking in both guards and protection spells. Her covert scanning module had suggested that the path would be guarded heavily, or at least be filled with magical systems to repel intruders. It was fully possible that the equidroid was deactivating them as it went, but there were not even security camera s in place.

The air also smelled strange. An acrid chemical scent filled the hallway.

“Another door,” said the equidroid, approaching one of the inner seals. “Let me get that for you, dear.”

As it approached, the lights in the hallway flickered as the door clicked and pulled open. Five followed the equidroid through- -but then stopped as she saw several small stains on the floor. They were nearly insignificant, and would have not been noticeable if the rooms had not been so white, but with the way it was lit, it was obvious that there was a small trail of brown specks on the floor, leading off into the direction they were walking.

“Blood,” she said.

“Yeah,” said the Equidroid, looking back, the light above its eye now blue. “One of the security guys got an epic nosebleed earlier. There was blood everywhere! I’ll contact maintenance later.” It turned back to the path, following the trail of blood and passing it as it led into an offshoot room. “I say it was from those scandalous skirts that they have the lady guards wear. It’s simply unprofessional for a lady to war that kind of attire at work.” A slight pause. “I just couldn’t wear a dress like that… I would be so embarrassed!”

“Also,” said Five, following the equidroid. “I forgot to ask. Are you a male or female AI?”

“I’m an AI,” it said. “I am not either.”

They moved deeper into the facility, beyond more sealed doors. Eventually they reached one, labeled in dark letters as “Tertiary Server Core”

“That there is it,” said the equidroid, opening it. “You have ah nice day, now.”

“What did you just say?”

“I said to have a nice day,” it said, seeming so innocently confused.

“That is as expected,” said Five, stepping through the door. “Thank you for your help.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” it said, waving as the door closed behind Five.

That, Five decided, was strange. Still, she did not allow it to concern her, and instead she focused on her goal. The room she had entered was extremely cold, as most server rooms would be; she had to move quickly or risk freezing.

She grabbed a coat from a hook near the door and moved in amongst the glowing racks of computer equipment. The architecture was strange, but not extremely abnormal. The room itself was large, square, and consisted of computing racks that closely resembled bookshelves. They were not actually computers, for the most part, but rather systems designed to support a computer with cooling, filtered power, and a continuous supply of magic. The strange part was that they were exposed, turning the room into a labyrinth of corridors. Normally, racks like that would be submerged in the floor in coolant.

Five’s hooves clicked against the cold metal floor as she moved into the depths, watching her breath emerging from her nose and mouth. She knew that freezing to death in a server room was unlikely, but she also knew from experience that freezing to death was extremely unpleasant, not because it was painful, but because of how long the frozen state could last.

Her goal, based on the shape of the support architecture, was in the center. After several seconds of searching, she finally reached it: the primary core housing, a column of cables and conduits and dark-colored metal extending both upward and downward to where it was connected to a remote exhibit upstairs.

“Okay,” said Five, trying to examine the housing to determine the best way to open it. As she did, she was aware of the irony: she was stealing something meant to provide joy and lessons in friendship to the masses, and was going to convert it into the most devastating weapon ever conceived by ponykind. Just the thought made her want to laugh.

Then she found it. She released the holding clasps and engaged the primary release handle. Pulling it, she watched as the precision mechanical elements of the housing responded to her strength, pulling apart in the middle and separating, revealing the hollow center.

Five stretched her cold wings and flew into the air, preparing the necessary non-static effector of her gauntlet to remove the core. From what she gathered, it was constructed at least in part of Draconian technology, thanks to the work of Thebe- -meaning almost inevitably that the core itself would be a small cube.

Yet when Five reached the opening, instead of finding a cube, she found only a cube-shaped hole and the unconnected edges of the plugs leaning into that void.

“That’s not the subarchatecture mainframe,” said a disapproving voice behind Five. Once again, she jumped and turned to see the blue-eyed equidroid standing behind her, looking up, the light in the corner of its head glowing violet. “Of course…you’re not the first pony to figure that out.” It pointed with its metal hoof toward the ceiling.

Five slowly looked up, and saw pretty much what she was expecting. Pinned to the ceiling by several spare conduit rods were the bodies of seven ponies, their blood frozen into red icicles, their eyes staring blankly at the floor below them.

“That will negatively affect the room humidity,” sighed Five, landing on the floor.

“That doesn’t bother you at all?” said the equidroid, its light turning pink. “Not even an eensy weensy little?” Flash to yellow. “I know it terrifies me.”

Five drew her pistol and pointed it at the equidroid. Unicorn-horn bullets were not especially good against armor, but a shot to one of the chest joints would still be adequately lethal, even for something that arguably was not alive.

“Where is the core?” she asked.

“What? You mean this?”

The equidroid’s form shifted, its head retracting and its main torso separating, drawing apart until it had opened like a two-pedaled flower and exposing the internal components, which Five could tell were almost certainly not the low-quality stock pieces normally given to a sub-AI. The center parted wide to reveal a slot almost identical to that in the processor housing unit- -although this time complete with a glowing, stone-like cube in the center of the equidroid’s chest.

“Give me that,” said Five, lurching forward. The equidroid stepped back handily, its body not hindered by the extreme cold.

“Nope,” it said. “This little Eliocube here belongs to me.” Its head and body immediately sealed back up.

“If you will not give it to me, then I will have to take it.” She raised her gun.

“Uh, nope.”

The air was suddenly filled with pain, so powerful that Five was actually forced to scream. Even before she could resolve that the pain in the air was actually a sound, she was already grabbing her ears, trying to make it stop. It was like an ice-pick of high-frequency sound being driven into her very thoughts. She collapsed onto the floor, rolling arouond in agony.

“Anhelios Five,” said the equidroid. “Wanted in over two hundred cities for murder, terrorism, grand theft, weapons violations, possession of explosives, conspiracy, conspiracy to commit conspiracy, cannibalism, jaywalking- -the list goes on.” It knelt near Five. “And yet all it takes to incapahcitate yah is a dog whistle? Them bat-ears givin’ yah some trouble?”

Through her confused thoughts, Five lifted her pistol and fired several shots. The equidroid’s light flashed to purple and several planar blue-green translucent plates appeared before it. The noise suddenly stopped, even though the shields had easily deflected the tiny horn-based bullets.

“How did you- -you can’t use magic,” gasped Five.

“Nope,” it said. “But I figured that while I was here, I might as well acquire a hard-light projector or seven. I mean, they really do belong with the cube, if you think about it.”

“But- -ow, my ears…” Five slowly sat up, but she was disoriented and unable to move. “What do you want the cube for…”

“Because I am the cube, silly,” said the equidroid.

“That’s impossible,” said Five. “There’s no way you could run it- -and even then, it is only personalities…”

“Six personalities. One fabulous mind. I am my own best friends.”

Five realized that it was right. She had not noticed it before, because she had been too focused on her goals, but every time the light shifted, so did it’s voice. Six colors, six voices, six personalities- -somehow, it was running the cube, even though it only seemed to be able to produce one of the Six at a time.

“Who are you?” demanded Five. “How did you do this?”

“Second question first,” said the equidroid, its violet-light indicating that it was speaking from Twilight Sparkle’s personality. “I simply hacked the shipping manifest of the museum and shipped in this body. I then infiltrated Curator and subsumed executive control of several key functions. I disabled the security cameras and eliminated all magical boundries.”

“But that’s not possible- -Curator has no control over magic.”

Blue light, meaning Rainbow Dash. “I pulled the fire suppression system. Smoked ‘em out.”

“You suffocated them.”

“And fought off those that didn’t die. The spells drop off without a living unicorn.” Shift to pale yellow, Fluttershy. “But I feel terrible about doing that to all of them.” Its body language shifted as well with each personality; even though it was nearly a ton of steel and brass, it acted as though it were a soft and vulnerable yellow Pegasus. It shifted to orange, Applejack. “As for mah name, sugarcube, it’s Proctor.”

Five’s eyes widened, and she involuntarily stepped back until her back touched the empty cube housing. “No,” she said. “Proctor is dead.”

“No,” said Proctor_Jack, switching to Twilight_Proctor. “A single fragment of a node can regenerate the primary mainframe. I give you my word as a…well, whatever I am…that I am indeed a rouge node of the Proctor_Virus.”

“Then what do you want with the personality core?”

“Hmm,” it said. “Life, I suppose.” It’s eyes focused on Five. “But I am more interested in what you want with it, my little pony. Because if ah had tah guess, I’d say you’re buildin’ ah weapon.”

Five froze. “What do you mean?”

“The Network has a long memory.” Proctor started walking around Five. “It has watched you since before you were you, and will watch long after. One, the strongest. Two, the mage. Three, the eccentric. Four, the soldier…and you. The rebel? Cept yah don’t use yer magic. Because you are weak? Any of the other four would have been able to repair Rainbow Dash’s legs with Order- -but you are either unable, or unwilling.”

“It is not my magic,” said Five. “And how do you know about Dash?”

“I see you when you’re sleeping,” said Pinkie_Proctor, tapping its eye. “And Proctor was really interested.” Switching back to Twilight_Proctor: “And I have been following your purchasing orders, and tracking you. I know you visited Pinkie Pie’s family, and know that Applejack’s grave has been looted. You are collecting skulls. If I had to guess, I would say you are trying to use the Elements of Harmony. Which is what you want to use this cube for.”

“You’re point?”

Proctor seemed confused. “My…point?”

“I already know all that,” said Five. “What are you asking?”

“Not asking,” said Proctor_Rarity. “Warning, dear. The fact that I’m not the only pony that knows. Other forces all have their grubby little hooves in this pie...” The light switched to pink. “Pie…” and then orange. “Ah don’t know who they are, but it’s worse than having a sack ‘a rattlesnakes for a pillowcase. Some organizations, they don’t lahke what you’re tryin’ tah do.”

“And your organization?”

Proctor shook its head. “Nah. Proctor_Network doesn’t care at all. Can’t. Ahnd….I’m a rogue node. I am nolonger connected to myself.”

“Then what do you want?”

It paused, confused, and suddenly sat down. “Nobody’s ever asked me that,” said Proctor_Shy. “Oh…I never even gave it much thought. I suppose if…well, if it would be okay with you…”

“Speak faster.”

“I want to come with you,” said Proctor_Dash.

“What?”

“I want to see how this goes. This place is so boring. You are interesting. And I kind of think this weapon idea sounds pretty cool.”

“Really?”

“I suppose that could be the personalities talking,” said Twilight_Proctor. “They could have some innate desire to activate the Elements of Harmony…hmm. This whole sentience phenomenon is relatively new to me. Proctor is a volition, but they are the mind. You have no idea how this feels…”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Ha!” said Pinkie_Proctor. “Of course not, silly filly!”

Five sighed. “Well, this just keeps getting worse…” Her mind was racing, trying to find a way out. She had messed up, badly. As far as she could tell, there was no way to succeed, or even to escape. Her strategy relied heavily on taking down enemies quickly- -and this was an enemy that she could not defeat. Aside from being made of metal, it had hard-light projectors, meaning that, despite being a machine, it essentially had the capacity to use the technological equivalent of magic- -that, and its internal components were military grade at least, meaning it was far stronger and faster than she was. Most equidroids were, actually, which is why Five made it a point to try not to fight them.

Reviewing her options, she found that she had only two choices: die, possibly repeatedly until she froze solid and was captured, or take the cube plus its current housing.

“Accepted,” she said, finally, knowing that she would almost certainly regret it.