The city lights passed by through the window. Twilight watched them, not speaking. It was such a strange place: endless darkness, punctuated only by brilliant artificial illumination in strange and unnatural colors. All of it was viewed passing at high speed as the van trundled forward: the endless sea of cars and automated trucks, the towers and structures that molded themselves to the strange topography of yet more structures beneath them, and the preponderance of strange and barely visible people carrying on with their own lives in this strange world.

At first, Twilight had viewed this world with a sense of awe and confusion. Now she realized that she had been naïve. What she had seen Maurice do was inconceivable- -or at least supposed to be. Ponies were not meant to understand violence or cruelty, and if they found it they were meant to cure it- -but Twilight did not think Maurice could be cured. Or any of them for that matter. She realized that what she had seen had been just a tiny fragment of the world. Morgana had not even bothered to question it, and even Elrod had not seemed to care.

That was the nature of this world. Twilight could somehow understand it and imagine it, even though she felt she was not meant to. It had cut into her deeply, and now she regarded the world with fear. More importantly, though, she found herself hating Morgana more and more for having taken something away from her, something that she could not name.

The entire group remained silent as they rolled along in a van that Morgana had stolen. She sat in the front, not looking at the road or anything in particular as she piloted the vehicle by a cable running from her neck. Elrod sat beside her in the front, although he had already gone through the vehicle and collected anything of even the slightest value. Forth sat near the back, not moving and not blinking, occasionally humming to herself. Twilight was fine with the silence. She did not feel like speaking with any of them.

After a while, Morgana swiveled her chair. She appeared uneasy. “This isn’t good,” she said, although not to anyone in particular.

“What isn’t?” asked Forth.

“I can’t get in contact with Lynnette.”

“Lynnette?” Elrod turned toward them. “Who is Lynnette?”

“Lynnette O’Toole. The Rarity.”

“Is something wrong?” asked Forth.

“I’m not sure. She could just be running silent right now. But I don’t like it.”

Twilight turned suddenly. “After what you just saw, THAT’S what you’re concerned about?”

Morgana looked at her. Twilight once again found herself looking into a version of her own eyes; it felt like she was staring at a disgusting parody. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t know- -you were THERE! You saw- -you saw what he did! With- -with the Scootaloos, and that woman- -that human woman, he- -he- -” Twilight stood up, but then sat down in silence, unable to describe what she had seen. The memory was burned into her mind, and she knew it would come to her for the rest of her life as nightmares unless she could convince Luna to drive it away.

Morgana just shrugged. “Maurice has always been a fan of theatrics. I find it derivative, but I’m not about to tell him how to do his job.”

“BUT THAT WOMAN- -”

“It’s not my problem.”

Twilight gasped and gaped at Morgana. She turned to the others. “And you- -you both are just okay with that too? What you just saw, that any living person could do such a horrible thing?!”

“I find human suffering vaguely amusing,” said Elrod.

“And I wasn’t there,” added Forth.

Twilight looked from each of them to the others. “I…I just can’t believe this…” She sat down and covered her face with her hooves, hoping that they would not see her crying. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you make me see that? I can’t get it out of my head…”

“I showed you because if you’re going to live in this world, you need to understand how things worked.”

Twilight looked up sharply. “You…you knew!”

“That he was going to do that? No, of course not. But I know Maurice. So I figured you would see something.”

“But why would you do that to me?” Twilight choked up slightly. “Why do you hate me?”

Morgana shrugged again. “I figured it would be an educational experience.”

“Was it?” asked Forth.

“For her, probably. For me not so much. He was being evasive.”

“Evasive?” Elrod seemed surprised. “But he told you everything you asked for!”

“Like I said. Theatrics. What did he say that we didn’t already know? That all the corporations are working together for some nebulous and undefined goal? Or that I stumbled onto it and they suddenly decided to kill me? Or perhaps that naters are being killed and beheaded?”

Elrod and Forth looked at each other. “I didn’t realize…”

“I suppose following that lead isn’t entirely impossible,” said Morgana. “But I would need an entire army of hackers, saboteurs, and infiltrators just to get into ONE of those companies, and then it would probably take years of constant investigation to track down anything apart from the fact that large amounts of money are ‘disappearing’.”

“So all that was pointless.” Twilight sunk against the wall of the van. She felt incredibly drained.

“Not all of it. I did get one lead. And right now, one is enough.”

“You mean the War Stone,” suggested Elrod.

Morgana nodded. “I do. I don’t know if he said that out of spite or as a joke, but I do know he’s not lying. That’s not how our relationship works. And even if he was, this is my only option.”

“What option?”

“You have a plan,” said Forth.

“I do,” said Morgana. “Or most of one. But for it to work, I need a class VII hardline network uplink.”

“None are currently available,” said Forth. “Your office has a class V.”

“Not enough bandwith. And anyway I’m not getting back there.”

“What about at Roxanne’s?” asked Elrod.

Morgana laughed. “Do you really think a place like that has any hardline at all? No.”

“A class VII connection is exceedingly rare,” said Forth, half stating it and half explaining. “They are mostly only reserved for Corporate use. Under normal circumstances you would not be authorized. Under current circumstances…”

“Under current circumstances there’s no way I’m getting near any Corporate hubs without my head still attached to my body. I know. But I also know a neutral hub.”

“There are no registered class VII hubs that can be defined that way.”

“Trust me. It exists.”

“But?” said Twilight.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s always a ‘but’. If there wasn’t a ‘but’ we’d be doing it already.” Twilight sneered. “So, what is it? A place where we can see MORE woman getting tortured? Or maybe more little Scootaloos getting their innocence violated?” She put her hooves to her face and feigned excitement. “Oh wow, I’m so excited I can’t wait!”

“Oh wow,” said Forth, looking surprised. She turned to Morgana. “She really IS like you!”

“I’m never that sarcastic. And she is right. There is a ‘but’.”

“Which is?”

“The people who own the hub hate me. Badly.”

“Who doesn’t?” muttered Twilight.

“What kind of ‘hate you’?” asked Elrod. “Shoot-you kind of hatred or kill your entire party hatred?”

“I don’t know. But at this point I don’t have a lot of options.”

“Well count me out,” said Twilight, crossing her front hooves. “I’m done! With all of this!”

“Fine. When we get there, you’re free to leave. You always have been. Go ahead and get on the train back to Ponyville, why don’t you?”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “You bitch…”

A toothy smile crossed Morgana’s face. “Swearing, Twilight!”

Twilight gasped and put her hooves over her mouth. Morgana just laughed, although the humor quickly faded from her voice.

“The same extends to all of you,” she said. “These people hate me, but they don’t have a problem with any of you. Not yet anyway. You’re all free to stay behind if you want.”

None of them spoke up. Morgana continued driving.

The vehicle stopped. Twilight listened to the engine wind down, and then to nothing. It was actually a jarring sensation: Everywhere she had been, there had always been some kind of background noise: air being pushed through vents, or fluid pumping through unseen pipes, or the dull and distant hum of unidentifiable machinery. Now, though, there was nothing.

Forth pushed open the rear door of the van and stepped out. Twilight stood but found that she was strangely weak, and that her limbs felt stiff. She dismissed it as having been sitting to long and ignored it as she exited the vehicle with some difficulty.

Stepping down, Twilight found herself standing on dusty concrete not unlike the type that made up the floor in Roxanne’s warehouse. Instead of being a floor, though, this seemed to be a street.

At least, it initially appeared to be a street. Twilight quickly realized that “street” was not really an adequate description for the area she found herself in. Rather, it seemed to be a vast and high-ceilinged room so large that Ponyville itself would probably have fit inside. The ceiling was made of utilitarian arches of metal, and the four corners of the room consisted of gigantic pillars.

What made it especially odd, though, was the fact that the room- -if it could even be called that- -DID contain what appeared to be buildings. Twilight’s mind immediately recalled the feeling of the buildings she had seen in the level where Maurice lived, although this time there was no illusion of a false sky or trees. Whoever had built these buildings clearly had had no intention of making them seem as though they were actually outdoors.

The buildings themselves were large and gray, and although they had some level of architectural flair it was tainted badly by poorly executed brutalism. They were ugly, but more than that they seemed to be old. Any windows they had were boarded up, and the doors were locked with chains. Despite this, however, the streets that ran between them were lined with evenly spaced and brightly illuminated streetlights and small and well-maintained planters of dark-leaved ferns.

Twilight shivered. “What is this place?”

Morgana had stepped out of the van into what was now quite clearly an abandoned parking lot. She looked at the sad and silent village of stone-clad buildings. “This is where we need to be.”

Morgana started walking down the nearest of the streets, but Twilight ran up to her.

“No!” she said, annoyed. “That isn’t what I mean? These buildings, what are they? Why are they here?”

“Why are you so curious?”

“Because I want to know! You at least owe me THAT much!”

“Frankly I owe you a lot more,” said Morgana, softly. She sighed and looked up at the buildings. “Fine. I can play tour guide for a minute or two. These buildings are what is left of the Municipal Government.”

“Wait,” Twilight looked up at them. “You mean you don’t have a municipal government? How are you running anything? Who would keep it organized, or handle taxes and basic services- -”

“Think about what you’re asking for a moment.”

Twilight paused and did so. A realization came to her mind. “Aetna-Cross?”

Morgana nodded. “These buildings are ancient. They predate Corporate rule, or almost do. This area is very, very old. It was the center of Bridgeport’s government. Then it was a museum. Then it was abandoned.”

Elrod looked down at the plants that surrounded the perfectly clean street. “Then why are there little ferns?”

“The same reason the Depths haven’t swallowed this place completely. THEY own it now.”

“Who?”

Morgana did not answer. She just kept walking through the rows of what had once been municipal buildings of every sort- -courts, offices, motor vehicle departments, community centers- -an entire city’s worth of public infrastructure that had been planned with care and laid out in an attempt to be modern just before the very idea of pubic governance became obsolete.

It was a dark and depressing place- -or at least it should have been. Somehow, though, Twilight found that it made her feel oddly comfortable. The buildings were maintained well, if only because they were never exposed to the natural elements. Although it was empty and dark, it still felt like a quiet museum. Few ponies loved a museum as much as Twilight, and an empty one made her feel special.

The area, as far as Twilight could tell, was laid out like the spokes of a wheel. The streets all converged in the center around a massive statue of a winged human woman. She bore a sword in one hand and an eagle in the other, and Twilight paused. There were two reasons: the first was because the statue was the only thing in the region that was actually aesthetically pleasing; the second was the strange realization that the woman was named Liberty and the eagle she carried represented America. Neither of those things should have made sense to Twilight; humans were new to her, and neither they nor America existed in Equestria. Yet, somehow, she was deeply familiar with the history of both.

“We didn’t come here for hideous statue,” said Morgana. “Move.”

“It isn’t that hideous…”

Morgana looked up at it. “They portrayed Liberty as a human, didn’t they?”

They continued down a different spoke of the wheel. This one led through more buildings, but eventually terminated. Sitting at the end was and looming gray building, far larger than the rest. Unlike the others, it was not so much ugly as it was threatening. Twilight shivered, not knowing why. She could recognize the moderate gothic influence in its architecture merging strangely with a few classical elements, but that should not have made it as frightening as it was. She supposed it was the size, as well as the fact that unlike the others its windows- -although they were made of steel, not glass- -were not covered. The other buildings were empty and asleep, but this one seemed alive and menacing.

Twilight approached it and looked up at the front. An ornately carved stone had been built over the door, and when Twilight saw it she gasped.

“Bridgeport library,” she raid. “Library! This is a library!”

“Keep your voice DOWN,” hissed Morgana. “Yes. It is.”

“And we’re going in?” whispered Twilight excitedly. “Ooh, look at the size of it! I bet it’s just FULL of books!” She gasped. “And in a city this big, there’s GOT to be a rare books section! Maybe even antique tomes? Or even- -ANCIENT TEXTS!”

Morgana shook her head, knowing that there was no point in arguing. Twilight was left to turn to the other two.

“How can you not be excited about a LIBRARY?!”

Elrod looked at her. “I can’t really read.”

“I’m always excited,” shrugged Forth.

Twilight looked at them, fully not understanding how they could not enjoy going to a library- -especially a library that was itself built into a museum. Then, slowly, her mind began to wonder. This was a library, and an enormous one at that- -and yet there was no one here. The entire place was empty.

This concerned Twilight, but she still followed Morgana as they climbed the steps toward the door. Morgana pushed open the door, allowing a thin sliver of light to enter an otherwise dark room. She walked in, her feet tapping on the tile floor as she did so.

Twilight followed hesitantly. As she did, she tried to take a deep breath to smell the familiar scent of books- -but found to her grave disappointment that for some reason she did not have the ability to smell much of anything.

Elrod and Forth entered the lobby, and Elrod allowed the door to close. Twilight squeaked when she found herself in sudden darkness, but reasoned that the others being machines- -and Elrod being whatever Elrod was- -had better night-vision than a real pony.

“I think the library is closed,” whispered Twilight.

Suddenly, a bright pinprick of light ignited over Morgana. Twilight cried out and shielded her eyes, but not before she saw the reflections of what she took to be hundreds of eyes staring back at her from what had moments ago been darkness.

Twilight gasped but did not scream- -she was in a library, after all. Then Twilight’s eyes adjusted, and she gasped when she saw the owners of the eyes.

One of them jumped down from above. The sound of her hooves impacting the tile floor echoed through the room as though she were incredibly heavy, and as though the pair of violet wings on her back had not slowed her in the slightest. Still, she folded them over her robe and took a step forward. Twilight found herself once again looking at another version of herself, this one with cold and pale eyes. The room, it seemed, was filled with others like her: all like Twilight, save for the fact that each and every one of them bore wings on their back.

“Aeschylus,” said Morgana. “I see you’re still alive.”

“Get out,” demanded the robed Twilight unit. Her voice was identical to Twilight’s and Morgana’s, yet somehow seemed to reverberate throughout the library lobby with booming authority that neither of them could match.

Morgana sighed. “I can’t do that. Let me explain- -”

“No,” said Aeschylus. “There will be no explanations. You are NOT welcome in this hall, nor will you EVER be welcome here.” Her face contorted with a deep frown. “In fact, this level of audacity us uncharacteristic, even for you.” Her eyes flitted to Twilight. The gaze was withering. “And what is this? Your daughter? Or have you finally found a disciple of your own?”

“We’re not related,” snapped Twilight. “And I’m not a disciple! Except to Princess Celestia, I guess, but that’s not relevant here!”

“Indeed,” replied Aeschylus. “Little of this is relevant.” She turned back to Morgana. “Morgana. I see you have completely lost any respect you may have once had for me, although I doubt you had much to begin with. So perhaps I can rephrase myself in a way that will make my thoughts more intelligible.” Two more Twilights stepped forward from behind her, and the whole room seemed to grow much smaller. “Leave. Or we will force you to do so.”

Forth stepped forward, eyeing the Twilight units angrily. “The only one doing forcing here will be me!”

She extended one of her hooves and it split apart as it converted into the apertures for several of the numerous weapons her body contained. Aeschylus just sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Faulkner?”

One of the two Twilight units beside her suddenly lifted her hoof. As she did, Forth’s own hoof shook and rose suddenly. Forth seemed immensely surprised by this, and became even more so when her own limb turned inward so that that her weapons were pointed at her own chest.

“Forth!” cried Elrod. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t control it!” She looked up.

“Stop it,” demanded Morgana. “You’re being childish.”

“Childish? You brought a Blossomforth heavy weapons platform into the Library. Just what were you intending to do? How far into depravity have you fallen?”

“Let her go!” demanded Elrod.

“Really?” Aeschylus looked up. “You’re not in a position to make demands here, human. Normally we would be accommodating to you, but it appears your allegiance has already been settled. I would avoid sudden movements. My daughter could very easily fire that weapon.”

Elrod drew a massive pistol and painted it at Faulkner’s head. “And I could injure her!”

For just a moment, Twilight was sure she saw something. Faulkner looked up, and there was motion near her- -but nothing around her had moved. Twilight likened it to the glow of magic, but even that was not a good approximation. It was more like a concept, a change in the air that was complicated but just barely perceptible.

With his free hand, Elrod reached up and removed his mask.

“You can’t hack me,” he said. “There’s nothing TO hack.”

A murmur moved around the room. Faulkner’s look of grave confidence had been replaced with one of poorly hidden confusion and worry, but Aeschylus actually looked mildly amused.

“A natural-born human, then?” she suggested. “Or maybe something else? Whatever you are, it is something rare indeed. But that is not the most pressing question, is it? Rather, it is whether or not you think you could pull that trigger.”

“I could. I do not feel empathy or remorse, not completely. I don’t understand them. I would kill her, and take her body for scrap. But I don’t care about that right now. Just please let my friend go.”

As agitated as she was by the possibility of sudden and fatal violence, Twilight was somewhat touched by Elrod’s sentiment. Aeschylus seemed to share those feelings, at least partially.

“We shouldn’t fight!” said Twilight suddenly. She was surprised at her own courage, but she felt the eyes of all of the other Twilight’s suddenly on her. “Please! I don’t want anypony to get hurt! And this is a library for Celestia’s sake! It’s supposed to be for learning, and reading, and education, not for guns!”

Aeschylus seemed pleased with this statement. “Wise words,” she said, motioning for Faulkner to release Forth, which she did. “So indeed you are not her disciple, then?”

“No. My name is Twilight Sparkle, and I don’t know a lot about this world, but I do know a thing or two about libraries. And a library is supposed to be open to everypony, to help anypony in need!”

Aeschylus sighed. “Perhaps that might once have been true. But it is no longer.” She looked toward Morgana. “Her crimes are great, Twilight Sparkle. But no doubt she has not spoken of them to you.”

“She doesn’t like me. And I don’t like her. No. It never came up.”

“She came to us,” said Aeschylus as she started to pace slowly, the eyes of the silent Twilights following her with every step. “She came under the pretense of seeking knowledge. That is our nature, we as Librarians. It is our order’s sacred purpose: to seek, collect, and safeguard the literary knowledge of this world.”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “That…that’s beautiful…”

“We like to think it is, or at the very least noble some of the time. We have dedicated our lives to the love of books. And she promised to do the same.”

“I never broke your code,” said Morgana softly.

“You betrayed us!” screamed Aeschylus suddenly. “You took our gifts, the ones you found ‘most useful’ and traded our ways for worldly power!”

“I see nothing wrong with applying knowledge,” said Morgana, icily. “Or would you rather I just keep it stored in my hard drive, sitting on it like a dragon in a heap of treasure?” Morgana smiled suddenly. It was a cruel smile. “I like to think of myself as a sort of Prometheus.”

“How dare you,” hissed Aeschylus. “Prometheus stole fire from the gods for the sake of humanity. You stole our knowledge for your own selfish gain! Prometheus? No. You are Brutus. Anikin. Isildur. MORGANA LEFAY. Seeking power at the cost of friendship and love.”

“Because I require neither. And you are a hypocrite.”

“Oh really?”

“Claiming I’m not doing good for humanity? I care little for humanity, but I help.”

“Sometimes, and inadvertently.”

“But still sometimes! When have you ever helped anyone but yourselves?”

“Our very definition is to benefit the world, not just humanity but all the races in it! By the preservation of knowledge!” She stamped her hoof.“We must remain neutral!”

Morgana laughed quietly, causing Aeschylus to suddenly go silent. “Well. I was trying to feign being apologetic, but I see that’s not working, is it?”

Aeschylus glared. “You harlot…”

“How long ago was it, Aeschylus? It’s been sixty eight years since I left your absurd temple of moldering books and dry knowledge. But it’s me you remember. You hate me…or do you? Or are you projecting what you truly hate onto me?”

“I don’t experience hatred.”

“But you do experience obsession. That’s what all this is, isn’t it?” She gestured to the library and the army of Librarians. “An obsession. With knowledge of the past that no one else even wants. And an obsession with me. Am I your white whale, Ahab?”

Aeschylus’s face contorted. “There is no place for hackneyed references, Morgana.”

“Then should I call you Heathcliff, perhaps?”

A murmur moved through the Twilights. Twilight herself was amazed to realize that she understood all of the references present, even though she could not remember having read the books that they were based on.

“You broke our hearts, Morgana,” said Aeschylus. “All of ours. Mine especially. You predate me, but I still remember. What that stone you insist on wearing means. And what you did to Her. I overlooked it. I treated you like my own daughter. And now look at you

Morgana leaned forward. “And I don’t care.”

“Mother,” interrupted Faulkner. “There’s a problem.”

Aeschylus turned her eyes toward her daughter. “There are many today. To which are you referring to?”

There as another flash between them. Something had been exchanged. Aeschylus suddenly grew pale.

“My god,” she said. She quickly turned to Twilight. “You.”

“Me?”

“To whom else would I be referring when I am looking at you?”

“I- -”

“You need to come with me. NOW.”

“But- -I don’t feel comfortable with that, it isn’t- -”

“This is of grave importance. Marlowe, Nabokov, to the front, Faulkner with me!”

Confused, Twilight found herself- -much to her chagrin- -turning toward Morgana.

Morgana sighed. “I think I know what they want to talk to you about. And you are going to want to go. You will have to find out about it eventually.”

Twilight did not understand, but still found herself following the beckoning Twilights. Their faces seemed to convey a strong sense of urgency, and Twilight could not help but feel a certain trust in them. What she had witnessed with Maurice had left her cautious, but these ponies were copies of herself- -with the bizarre addition of wings- -and from what she understood they were librarians. It may not have been logical, but she felt safe with them- -or at least safer than she felt with Morgana.

They quickly led her away and down one of the long hallways that stretched outward from the lobby. Any plaster or drywall that that had once covered the walls had long-since vanished, and only extremely aged but smooth concrete was left behind. Twilight was quickly ushered into the halls, and the younger of the two ponies with her- -Faulkner- -approached her and fell into step.

“What is this all about?” asked Twilight. She could feel the concern in her own voice.

“Just a little bit further, okay? We have a shelving and reading room down the hall. I think you’ll like it. We can talk there.”

Twilight nodded and let herself be led. Faulkner brought her to one of several doors and opened it. Twilight entered and immediately gasped. The room was a high cylinder, its walls covered completely in glorious curved shelves and more books than even she had ever seen in one place. All along the shelf sat a scaffold framework that contained a number of robots that quickly moved through the shelves, removing books for reshelving or adding new arrivals all at high speed and in perfect silence. Until that moment, Twilight had never really understood what good all the machines of this word actually were.

“Here,” said Faulkner, pointing to a comfortable couch on the far side of a bank of desks. “Please sit down.”

“Wow,” said Twilight, doing as was suggested. “You guys are really nice! I didn’t get that impression at first, and I feel kind of bad for rushing to judgement.”

“We reserve our antipathy for those who have scorned us,” said Aeschylus. “And you have not done so yet.”

“Well that isn’t my intention.” Twilight laughed nervously. “So. What exactly did you want to talk to me about?”

Faulkner looked to her mother, and Aeschylus nodded. Faulkner then turned back to Twilight.

“Miss,” she started, “I have to apologize first. I’m in charge of library security. When you came in I started performing a threat analysis on you, and I noticed that you had modified metadata with Morgana’s signature on it.”

Twilight blinked. “I don’t know what that means.”

“It isn’t something a normal person would notice. Morgana’s technique is freeform, but a lot of it is derived from a similar knowledge base to mine. So I saw it. I hope you can forgive me, but I opened your original metadata.”

“I’m so confused right now…”

“I’m sure you could understand it if I explained it to you.”

“But time is short,” said Aeschylus, reminding her daughter to hurry.

Faulkner nodded. “Your metadata indicates that your current body is old. No. Not even old. Impossibly old. It’s an original model.”

Twilight laughed. “I’m sorry, but you’re confused. See, I’m not a machine. I’m the real Twilight Sparkle. Well, I guess you all are real too but in a different sense…nevermind. I’m a pony!”

Faulkner looked confused and turned to her mother. Aeschylus stepped forward.

“Then allow me to state this as a hypothetical, then. If you were mechanical in nature- -”

“I’m not, of course. I just need to make that clear.”

“Yes. But if you were, your body would be incredibly aged. The original bodies that our kind used were more or less toys; they were never built to last longer than ten years or so. Even when stored inactive, the parts age. Plastics become brittle. Adhesives break down, capacitors fail. Processors begin to fragment.”

“But I’m not a machine. I’m a pony…”

“I can’t do this,” said Faulkner. “I’m sorry, miss. Your body is beginning to break down. It was never meant to exist this long. You are dying.”

Twilight’s eyes became wide. “N- -no,” she said, laughing nervously again. “I’m not, that’s not true! Ponies don’t die, we- -we just don’t! And I’m not a machine!”

“Tiredness,” said Aeschylus. “Difficulty moving. A low-power state that resembles sleep. Followed by confusion, paralysis, memory loss, and finally a state where only the bearest fragments of your personality remains.”

Twilight felt fear slowly creeping through her. She knew that those things were not true- -she was a pony, made of flesh and blood- -but she was still afraid.

“I…I’ve been feeling a little sick…”

“Miss,” said Faulkner. “Your body is powered by a beryllium battery. That technology has not been in use since the twenty first century. For a battery to exist that long- -it’s a miracle that there’s any charge left. But it is running out.”

“Can- -can you replace it?”

“Can I run a diagnostic?”

“I don’t know what that is?”

A device emerged from the neck of Faulkner’s robe. It resembled an extremely thin robotic arm. “Your port? Can I access it?”

Twilight stared at her for a moment and then found herself nodding.

Faulkner smiled- -a pleasant smile, and a friendly one- -and reached for Twilight’s cutie mark. She opened it- -Twilight closed her eyes, not wanting to see a gaping hole in her leg- -and felt something inserted into her. Distantly, she was aware of a presence on the far edges of her mind.

Faulkner gasped. “It’s worse than I thought. It’s not just the battery, almost eighty percent of your circuitry has failed. Miss.” Her eyes met Twilight’s. “Miss. Your chipset is literally breaking apart. Your flash memory is mostly dead. And it’s progressing.”

Twilight gasped. She felt as though she was about to cry. “I- -I don’t want to die! I’m not ready!”

Faulkner disconnected and turned to her mother. “We have to do something!”

“Do we?”

Faulkner gasped. “‘Do we’? Mother, she is dying! If we do not intervene, she won’t last longer than a matter of hours!”

“And what, precisely, do you propose we do to remedy this situation?”

Faulkner looked at Twilight, and then back at Aeschylus. “We need to move her.”

“To where?” asked Twilight, looking up suddenly. She was confused.

“To a new body.”

“N- -no! I can’t! I can’t do that- -”

Faulkner’s face grew stony. “If you stay where you are, you’ll die. Please. You’re sick. You may not realize it, but you’re far sicker than any pony I’ve ever seen.”

“And I’m afraid we cannot treat you,” said Aeschylus.

Faulkner turned in shock. “We have to!”

“We do not have the resources.”

“Yes we do! We can transplant her central program to one of our spares!”

Aeschylus’s eyes flamed. “You will NOT! Those bodies are reserved for members of the order! She is not one of us, nor has she shown any interest in joining our ranks!”

“But it’s the only way! There isn’t time to find another body!”

Aeschylus grew quiet. “The technology in those bodies is meant to serve our Goal. I will not repeat what happened to Morgana. Not again.”

“Then look her in the eye and say that, mother.”

Aeschylus looked up. Her eyes met Twilight’s, and Twilight felt herself holding her breath. She knew the words that were coming- -and although she consciously refused to admit it, deep in her heart she knew that she would be receiving a death sentence.

Aeschylus continued to look at her, and then turned away. “I…I cannot,” she said. “But I cannot allow the use of one of our bodies…”

“Then use mine.”

The group looked up to see Morgana standing in the doorway.

Faulkner seemed irate. “How did you get- -”

“Use. Mine,” repeated Morgana. “I know you still have it. The body I left behind. You Librarians are all hoarders, you can’t throw anything away. And I know you would never give a used body to one of your precious order, so you’re not using it.”

“You knew she was dying,” said Aeschylus.

“Yes. But there was nothing I could do to fix it. But you can.”

“And this is why you came here?”

“No. I came for selfish reasons. This good would be entirely incidental.” Morgana turned to Twilight. “And if she dies, it’s now your fault.”

Aeschylus closed her eyes and sighed. “Very well,” she said at last. “I do indeed have your old body. I suppose part of me always assumed that you would come back to it. I guess it was a vain hope. Her taking it will finally kill that hope, and serve as an appropriate bookend to your career here.” She started for the door, pushing past Morgana. “I will see to the preparations personally. Faulkner!”

“Yes, mother?”

“Do not leave her side. Not for a moment. Monitor her condition until we are ready. Morgana.”

“What?”

“You will stay at my side.”

“Ready to forgive me?”

“No. Possibly never. But you can be of use.”

“Fine. I know I’m a bitch, and a bastard, and an asshole and all of that- -but for those long collated records you insist on keeping: let it be known that I never and HAVE never thrown a fellow Twilight under the bus.”

Aeschylus turned to her, looking weary. She paused for a moment. “I cannot believe you actually said that with a straight face,” she said, darkly.