A bird sat upon Brown’s head. Although he had no concept of a phoenix, he understood that this bird belonged to the Commander. He therefore assessed it as a kind of weapon, like a trained hawk. It also rapidly became clear to him that the bird was rather warm, which was actually somewhat comfortable on his head.

“Doesn’t that…you know, hurt?” said Twilight_Proctor, who was walking through the street beside Brown.

“No. I believe that my fur is largely fireproof.”

“Really? That must be nice.”

“I would not know.” Brown paused, looking over to the machine that walked beside him. “What exactly are you?” he asked. “You resemble a pony, but I know not what you truly are.”

“I am Proctor.”

“Not your name. Your definition. Or shall I just call you a metal-pony?”

“Well, thahs about right, sugarcube. Not much beyond that.”

Although that was true, Brown felt dissatisfied with the response. He doubted he would be able to articulate his true question. He understood what equidroids were, because the Commander had taught him that. What he did not understand was what exactly Proctor was. He seemed to serve the Commander, but not for any particular reason- -and seemed to perpetually hide behind the personalities that seemed intrinsic to his being.

“Well, then, Proctor,” said Brown, dropping the subject for the time being. He looked around at the crowded city streets, and up at the towering buildings above him that made him dizzy. “Tell me: I understand why I am out of doors for this mission- -but why not you?”

“Because I was the one that broke the city?” said Pinkie_Proctor.

“I was not aware that was you, but yes.”

“Silly, that’s not actually a crime! Just petty vandalism. They’re not after me. Or the others. Well, they are after the others, but mostly just Rainbow Dash!”

“Rainbow Dash?” said Brown, suddenly feeling concerned. “Why her?”

“Oh,” said Proctor_Shy, “oh, well….because. But Five and Gell are just sort of incidental.”

“That,” said Twilight_Proctor, “and I’m an equidroid. We are generally considered to all look the same. And they’re not looking at all for…whatever you are.”

“Exmoori,” said Brown, annoyed. “I am Exmoori. As in, from Exmoor. We are…” He paused, finding that he did not know. He knew the name, but he did not know what it meant, what they were or had been. Abstract words filled the void in his mind: “freedom”, “independence”, “honor”, “warrior”, but he did not know why they were there, or what they were supposed to mean beyond their simple definitions. Although he tried, he found that he had no memories of Exmoor or his people.

“Chill,” said Proctor_Dash. The pair of them stepped onto a large square plate on which many ponies were standing, waiting. Brown’s eyes passed over each one of them, automatically determining their level of threat. Most of them were earth ponies, unicorns, or Pegasi, although there were a great many others of various species. Looking at the ponies caused Brown to feel agitated. He had a strong urge to attack them, but he was not sure why. The Commander’s orders were absolute, though. He was to carry the wheel of gateways to the airship, to allow the Commander, her associate, and Rainbow Dash to escape. Attacking his enemies now would be counterproductive toward that end.

Almost as soon as they boarded, the gates to the contraption closed. There was a tone, and the plate began to rise. Brown immediately dropped to the floor, clinging to it.

“Whoa,” said Proctor_Dash. “It’s just a level elevator. Public transit. No need to wig out on me.”

“I- -I was just not expecting it,” said Brown, standing. “Much of this world is new to me. Actually, rather, all of it is new to me.”

“I understand,” said Proctor_Shy. “This whole big world. You must be terrified.”

“Hardly,” said Brown, watching the city sink below him. He did not like being high of the ground, and the plate-elevator had risen hundreds of feet in a matter of seconds, the engine connecting it to the mechanical lift tower behind it clinking away. “I just really would rather have taken the stares.”

“It would be good exercise, I suppose, but so sweaty,” said Proctor_Rarity. “Although…then again, I suppose I can’t ever get tired. Or sweat. Well…yay for me, I guess.”

“Do you always speak with so many voices?”

“Of course, darling. Since I lack the mental framework to form a real intelligence, I get to have all these amazing personalities.”

“So your mind consists of six?”

“Indeed!”

“What a tortured existence that must be.”

Proctor almost spoke, but then paused. His unclosing blue marble eyes looked down at Brown. “Yeah,” said Proctor_Jack. “Ah guess it is.”

“At least you are not alone, though.”

“True. So true.”

The airship docks sat at the top of the dome, independent from the tall dangling towers where the wealthy resided. They were the size of small villages, crowded with systems to load air-transport freight, as well hordes of ponies. The docking tower that Brown and Proctor had gone to was filled mostly with poorer looking ponies, standing with their children and their luggage, waiting for the possibility of a ticket on one of the cargo vessels departing from the freight spire.

“I really would have liked to see the Dome District,” said Proctor_Rarity, holding his hoof near a battered vending machine. A light activated within, and the internal mechanisms clanked. A bottle dropped out. “I hear that the architecture is simply divine…and the culture!” he picked up the bottle in his false-light construct and passed it to Brown.

“I highly doubt that the guards will let us out,” said Brown, eying the bottle. “What is this?”

“Milk,” said Proctor_Rarity. “Although clearly not the highest quality. But it will do. Five tells me you have an…intolerance, I suppose, for solid food.”

“Great thanks, comrade,” said Brown, biting off the cap of the bottle and downing the contents rapidly. It was sour and chunky, but he was terribly hungry. “Hmm,” he said, grimacing slightly. “What manner of milk is this?”

“Hole milk,” said Pinkie Proctor. “Which means that it came from underground.”

“Really?”

“Yup. From a burro.”

“Ah,” said Brown, putting the bottle in an overfilled recycling can and starting up the staircase toward where the machines were loading crates and shipping containers onto their chosen airship. The vehicle itself was not entirely visible; the main body of it was outside, leaving only the docking door attached to the bay for loading. Still, even from that, Brown got the impression that it was hardly airworthy. Worse, the cargo was not labeled properly. The shipping containers were marked with an icon that said “Esperia Canned Fish”, but they did not smell like fish at all. They smelled like cordite and electronics.

“Well, this went oddly well,” said Proctor_Dash. “Easy as…”

“Hey you!” called a gruff voice from behind them.

“Pie...”

A black-clad earth pony guard was approaching them from the bottom of the stares. His plastic-like armor and visor obscured his identity, mostly, but Brown could tell from his markings that he was from the same contingent as the ones that guarded gates to the docking spire, protecting the picturesque hanging homes and gardens beyond from contamination of the rabble within.

“Yes, officer?” said Proctor_Rarity, sounding disturbingly flirtatious. “Is there a problem?”

“Yeah. The problem is that this vessels if for approved cargo only- -not you two. Get back down there!” He pointed down the stairs, toward the milling crowd below.

“I believe we have tickets,” said Proctor_Shy, cowering behind Brown.

“Tickets? On this ship? Yeah right. And what the hay are you supposed to be?” He turned toward Brown. “And is that a…phoenix?” His visor lit from within, momentarally illuminating his eyes. Then it suddenly sparked and went out.

“What the!” he cried, tearing it off.

“Must have been ah powehr surge,” said Proctor_Jack, his smile implicit. “It happens sometimes to low quality equipment.”

“You little buck, you hacked me!” the earth pony pulled a weapon from his holster; not a gun, but a long black nightstick. “I’m going to bash your eyes out!”

“Too slow!” said Procor_Dash, dodging. The blow meant for him instead hit Brown. The nightstick struck his fluff with an audible “pomf”, but neither Brown’s position nor his expression changed.

The guard tried to pull our his nightstick, but found that it was stuck. Then, to his horror, it was pulled away from him and into the mass of brown fluff that covered the strange pony before him, vanishing within seconds.

“That was kind of weird,” said Proctor_Dash. “But come on! Fight back! Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of supresoldier?”

“I have no quarrel with this stallion.”

“He just hit you!”

“Yes. I am aware of that. It does not especially bother me.”

Proctor_Dash sighed. “Oh well. Guess I have to miss out on a good fight for now.” He turned his attention toward the guard, still staring stupidly at the spot on Brown’s fluff where his nightstick had been effortlessly absorbed. “Oh, and also, just so you know, I’m the one who blew up the city!”

The guard still continued to stare, but then jumped back. “Calling all guards!” he cried into his transmitter. “Two suspects, dock 7A! Resisting arrest! Armed and dangerous, shoot to kill!”

The crowd below suddenly started to panic as guards flowed in from all sides, pushing and beating ponies out of their way.

“It almost seems like you want to use it,” said Brown, still expressionless. He had now concluded that he did not much like Proctor, but that the two were good allies.

“Of course I do,” said Proctor_Dash, reaching into Brown’s fluff. He fished around for a moment, and then drew out a grenade launcher. The earth pony guard’s eyes widened, and he jumped back.

“Masks on,” said Proctor_Dash, and Brown pulled a gas mask from his hair and placed it over his face. Proctor_Dash produced a pair of wings and floated into air above the crowd. He then took aim with the launcher, and fired several shells into the wall of guards that were coming after them.

The shells burst open into a cloud of pink gas, and the guards immediately started choking on it. Proctor_Dash descended from the air, just in time for Brown to kick the one guard already on the stares back down into the growing cloud of smoke.

“What was that?” asked Brown. “A chemical weapon?”

“Yes,” said Twilight_Proctor. “Colloidal love potion. It should keep them distracted for a while.” He released a sound that might have been laughter. “Leave it to Anhelios Five to weaponized a love potion.”

Brown looked out into the pink fog-shrouded crowd, and grimaced slightly at what was starting to occur. “I believe she may have made the potion too strongly.”

“Well, I may have added a bit of estrus pheromone…well, they say 616’s population is in decline right now, so I suppose I’m doing them a public service.”

“Where did you even get estrus pheromone?”

“Yah don’t want tah know,” said Proctor_Jack. “Shall we go, now, then?” added Proctor_Rarity, sounding somewhat unnerved. “This really isn’t the place for a Lady right now.”

“Um…sure,” said Brown, turning away from the spectacle that was unfolding below him. For some reason, although he did not want to, he found himself liking Proctor more than he had before. “Yes. I believe that course of action would be ideal.”

Deep within the Pocket, Five pulled a piece of sheet metal from the stack. She adjusted her gauntlet, producing a plasma torch, and began cutting yet another piece for yet another tiny part. She was working quickly, in part because she had little time, and in part because that was how she worked best, when her mind was focused entirly on the task at hand.

That, and she despised her basement. It was dark, dreary, and perpetually moist. That was itself not a problem; she was a chiropteran, after all. The problem was the way the basement was constructed. Although it existed within the Pocket, it was not part of the main structure. It sat spate from the rest, floating freely in the void. Behind every wall was nothingness with neither time nor space, and the basement roared with deafening silence from the endless storms outside.

It had its advantages, of course. The main one at this point in time was the fact that Rainbow Dash could not access it, let alone find it. She could not know what was being constructed there.

Five placed the still red-hot piece of metal where it belonged, and immediately shifted tasks. She picked up one of the two skulls she had already acquired- -the one belonging to Applejack- -and inserted it into its setting, an action which felt not unlike putting an immense gemstone into an immense ring. Assuming, of course, that the ring consisted of a system of wires and conduits that flowed down the metal holder and onto the floor, snaking into the remainder of the incomplete systems.

“Honesty, laughter, loyalty,” she said, counting down the ones she already possessed as she tightened the clamps over Applejack’s tumor-deformed skull, and then the ones she did not yet have “Kindness, generosity, magic.”

Each one was an Element of Harmony- -and a grand weakness. Honesty: to cast away the ability to manipulate others. Laughter: to deny the truth, that the world was pain. Loyalty: to follow kings and gods blindly until death. Kindness: to open oneself to betrayal. Generosity: to sap one’s own strength to feed one’s enemies. Then, finally, magic- -the curse that had dogged Five for her entire existence. These things should have had no power, and yet, somehow, they did. A power that she needed.

From behind her, she felt space distort. From the corner of her eye, she saw the illumination of a pentagram across the oil-stained floor. With a puff of ionization, Gell appeared. The basement, of course, was not safe from Gell. Gell was free to go wherever she pleased. Five had tried to forbid her several times, and it had never worked.

“I thought I could find you down here,” said Gell.

“We are neither up nor down,” said Five, absentmindedly, while she forced Pinkie Pie’s skull into place. The gaping hole in its side as well as the mounting hardware from where it had been attached to its final resting place- -the Pie family’s ancestral hat rack- -made it fit into the setting wrong. Five swore in Draconian, and then went to work on something easier to fix. “We are not above or below the Pocket proper. Nor are we within it. Nor are we without it.”

“Come on, An. Don’t lecture me on portal magic. It’s kind of my thing.”

“Indeed. Can you bring in the processing array from the master bath?”

“Sure,” said Gell. “Never liked it in there anyway. Always seemed to be watching me.” A portal appeared on ground, and Gell pulled the device through.

“You do not urinate. Or defecate.”

“That’s not what I use the bathroom for.”

“Then what do you- -eew. Never mind.”

“This thing is a mess,” said Gell, referencing to the basement in its entirety rather than just the processing tower, and the largely incomplete machine on the ground. “Is this thing really going to work?”

“Yes,” said Five. “Of course it will. Probably.”

“You know, you’ve spent longer making this…thing…than Rainbow Dash has even been alive.”

“Your point? Or did you just come here to bother me?”

“An…I heard what you were talking about with the robot. You’re not going to be able to get Twilight Sparkle.”

“I can.”

“No. You can’t. Thebe has the skull. Or probably does.” Gell pointed to the ceiling, as if Thebe were somehow above them. “I can’t fight Thebe. You can’t fight Thebe. There, you might even have better luck against Satin himself!”

“I don’t necessarily need her,” said Five. “Not…not necessarily. I have been reading Proctor’s manual. I think he is close enough that a substitution may be possible.”

“A…a substitution? For the most important Element?”

“Twilight is actually the least important,” said Five. “She was just a catalyst. If Proctor’s Twilight simulation were embedded in an adequate host, it might be possible to replicate the Element of Magic.”

“And where are we going to get that? Or are you volunteering?”

“So what if I am?”

Gell laughed, momentarily revealing the immense cruelty that was her birthright. “You? You? You barely have enough magic to repair a broken teacup! I’m not trying to be mean- -but you are the weakest of your family. By far. And you don’t even bother to learn Two’s spells, either. All you’ve really got is that healing thing.”

“She doesn’t know you very well, does she?” said a third voice in the room. Five’s eyes darted rapidly to the shadows, to where they were especially deep. There, she saw a pair of green-blue eyes staring out of the darkness toward her. “How long you have lived with her- -and how you continue to keep her in darkness of your intentions. She doesn’t know you like I know you, Anhelios Five.”

“Not my name,” muttered Five, picking up a hastily constructed harness she had built from one of the incomplete skull-holders, a harness designed to go around a pony’s head. She dug a probe into the mechanism in the back and caused the needle to deploy out the back of the helmet portion. Five recalled what she could from anatomy, and tried to assess whether the needle would go too deep into a pony’s brainstem. She decided to err on the side of caution, and turned the adjustment screw to reduce the penetration depth.

“What?” said Gell.

“Never mind,” said Five. Gell could neither see nor hear the specter that wandered through Five’s peripheral vision- -nopony could, save for her.

“Hmm,” said the shadow, approaching the skull of Applejack and running one of her nebulous hooves over it. “Applejack. Of all of them, she was my favorite. Perhaps my only friend of the six. I almost feel sad for her, seeing her like this. As a component in a weapon.”

“The Elements of Harmony are inherently a weapon,” said Five. “They were never used to fix anything- -just to crush deviants.”

“Uh, I know that,” said Gell. “It’s like, one of your top fifteen extended rants. But you know, I have a responsibility to tell you that you’re pretty much wasting your life down here. On this- -thing.”

“I have no life to waste. I was born dead.”

“Aren’t we all,” said the shadow, smiling.

“Although some of us are immortal,” snapped Five.

“I know that too,” said Gell. “But you’re not. You don’t age, but you will die. Do you really want this to be your legacy?”

“When have I ever been concerned with such foolishness? Or would you rather have me as a wandering, self-proclaimed ‘hero’, a guardian of Equestria?”

“An, come on,” said Gell, approaching where Five was standing. “I’m not saying that, but…” she paused, and sniffed the air. Five suddenly felt cold, and the shadow smiled, amused.

“What is that?” said Gell, leaning near Five and sniffing.

“Get away from me,” said Five, pushing her away.

“I know that smell,” said Gell, angrily. “Misoprostol? Foal-Be-Gone? I would know that smell anywhere. An, are you pregnant?”

“No,” said Five. “No, not yet. Right now it is purely prophylactic. But I can feel it, Gell. I can feel her, coming to kill me. I could have years- -or I could have months. I’m dying.”

“Prophylactic?! You reek! What are you taking? Ten times the normal dose?”

“As much as it takes.”

“It won’t work, you know,” said Gell.

“And how would you know?”

Gell’s eyes narrowed, and she stared directly into Five’s eyes. “Because your mother tried the same thing.”

“She did,” said the shadow. “I was there.”

“Is that supposed to shock me?” said Five, throwing down the harness meant to penetrate Rainbow Dash’s skull. “Is it, Gell? Because I can remember the moment she made the decision. I recall her taking the first pill. I recall how sick it made her, and how you ignored it. I have three hundred twenty one years of Anhelios in my head! I can’t make it go away, I can’t stop remembering- -I can’t even remember which one is me anymore.” She turned back to her work, phasing through the shadow on her way to Pinkie Pie’s skull. It felt terribly cold and slightly damp. “I don’t care. I don’t care anymore. I can’t stop Six, but I can slow her down. Gell, I just need more time. Just a little more.”

Gell sighed. “Fine. Go ahead. Just wear some perfume or something. I hate that smell.”

The portal opened once again, and Gell disappeared back into the main Pocket, probably to continue gorging herself on pony meat or sleeping in her bed of broken glass. Five was left alone with her other half, the pair of eyes floating in the darkness, connected to a body that was purely conceptual.

“And you? You’re going to disparage my life choices as well?”

“Oh, no,” said the shadow. “I actually find this rather amusing. In a way, I missed this type of drama when I was Luna. But, just so we are clear: I have a vested interest in continuing my existence. I will ensure that Six is born, and that you do not die before then.”

“So I am just a breeder to you? To ensure the next generation?”

“No, Anhelios. Of course not. I love you, as I have loved all my children. In a way, I wish that you were like Luna- -that I at least had hope that you might stay with me for all eternity. If only that were your goal, though.” She smiled. “But she does not know you as I know you- -because I am you. Your darkness, your truth. I know that death has never really concerned you.”

“No,” said Five, herself smiling. “No it hasn’t.”

Rainbow Dash flushed the toilet, and wondered where the water went. She hoped that Five did not recycle it into drinking water, because that would be gross. Or even shower water. Or any kind of water. Knowing Five, though, Rainbow Dash decided that recycling of the toilet water was probably the case.

Toilets were annoying. That was one of the great things about being a Pegasus- -she never had to use them under normal circumstances. When flying, she could just go whenever she wanted to. The Wonderbolts had several euphemisms for it, depending on the circumstances: “lightening the load”, “dropping the bomb”, or “fertilizing the fields”. It was one of the main reasons why Cloudsdale was normally parked over the ocean.

Rainbow Dash looked into the bathtub. It was filled with ice, but the strange machine that had been lying there a moment ago had seemingly vanished, leaving behind only an impression in the quickly melting cubs. Rainbow Dash momentarily looked around the small room, wondering if it might have somehow tried to escape. Machines did not usually do that in her time, she knew, but with what Five had lying around, it was impossible to know what might happen.

Finding the machine nowhere, she instead stepped over to the mirror. She had ignored it as she came in, but she had a sudden urge to look at her awesomeness. When she actually took a moment to look within, though, she gasped and jumped back. She found her heart was beating rapidly, and she slowly moved her face back into frame.

Something was extremely wrong with her right eye. Her left one was fine, with its purple iris staring back at her- -but the other was discolored and strange. Her pupil- -which should have been black and shiny- -was now almost entirely golden. She twisted her head, and saw that the gold seemed to line the back of her eye, or the fluid within, filling it with sparkling yellow. Her iris in that eye, likewise, was starting to be overgrown with gold as well, being replaced by it in some parts. The result was a reddening of the rest of her eye. Looking at it made Rainbow Dash’s eye feel itchy, and it frightened her.

It was, she realized, similar to the new feathers that had sprouted from her wings. She unfolded her wings and looked down at them. They were long and stiff, and definitely made of some kind of golden metal. They were strange looking, though; they were not simply feathers, but rather metal plates that looked as though they had been sculpted to look like some kind of abstract representation of feathers. Rainbow Dash recalled one of Rarity’s phases, something called “Art Deco”, which Rainbow Dash had always thought had something to do with stickers.

They were also incredibly sharp. Strangely, though, they never cut Rainbow Dash herself. They fit perfectly into her wings, like a perfect pair of wing-blades. Neither did they impair her ability to fly. They were just weird, and scary because she did not know why she had them.

Rainbow Dash leaned over the sink and looked at her eye again. It looked infected, but when she closed her good eye the bad one still saw perfectly well. She tried it several times, closing one eye and then the other, making the world blink a few degrees to the left and right as she did it.

Then something went wrong. When she closed her good eye, the image changed. She saw her reflection in the mirror- -but also saw another. Over her shoulder was another pony- -but not anypony she recognized.

Rainbow Dash spun around, internally panicking, although she knew horror movies well enough to know what would happen. She would turn around, gasping, perhaps call out “who’s there?”, but nopony would be there, and she would be left with a pounding chest and doubts about her sanity, which she already knew was in bad shape.

Expect the pony behind her did not go away. When she turned, she found her nose inches away from his. He was most certainly real.

Rainbow Dash now saw that he was not actually a pony. His body was not made of skin and hair, but rather angular golden metal formed into the shape of pony like some kind of semi-abstract sculpture. He towered over Rainbow Dash, standing as high as Celestia once had, but his body seemed so much larger, and somehow even more regal than the Princess of the Sun.

The golden pony looked down at Rainbow Dash, and she saw that he had only one eye. The eye he did have shifted in its socket, its delicate mechanical components focusing on her. This pony, Rainbow Dash realized, was a machine- -but not a machine in the same sense Proctor was. She did not know how, but this creature was far beyond anything that anypony could ever produce.

Her eyes instinctively darted toward the nearest area of escape- -but the pony extended his wings, blocking her in on both sides. Rainbow Dash felt distressed- -not because she was locked in place, but because she recognized those wings. The feathers they bore were larger versions of the ones that adorned her own wings.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice sounding somewhat mechanical but his jaw moving just as a normal pony’s would have. “Listen, pony, and listen well. The Adamantasi are returning. I know not why. But do not approach them. Do not hear their call. And most importantly, whatever they are trying to do- -do not stop them. If you die, then I have failed.” Then, of all the things he could have done, he smiled. “I can see you,” he said, “through my own eye. You are a pretty one indeed, and nearly my equal. Nearly. You will make an excellent mother.”

Then he was gone. Rainbow Dash collapsed onto the floor, not knowing at all what had happened. For some reason, she suddenly burst out laughing. The whole situation just seemed so funny- -but she did not know why. She knew her mind was collapsing, and that she was hallucinating.

Even knowing this, she could not stop laughing. Not until her laughter collapsed into sobs as she rocked back and forth in the safety beneath the sink.