It takes me a week to make my preparations to visit Horse-Land. I figure I would need at least a weekend to investigate the other realm so I need an excuse that would explain my absence for that length of time. For that, I use a real homework project to build the basis of my argument to explain my absence. I can and have finished the project by myself easily enough, but I also claim that there is another student in one of my classes that I volunteer to spend the weekend with in order to help that student catch up.

The interesting thing about that excuse is when my mother attempts to call the parent of the student I claim I would be helping in order to verify if I indeed have permission to hang out at their house for the weekend, I have her call redirect to call a computer program that I scripted. In it, Mom receives a video conference call with an AI program that I design to look like the child's mother. That AI program is scripted to answer almost any question I could think of that my mother would ask. I painstakingly design this program with a very large set of if/then conditions as well as smart algorithms to make up an excuse using the conditions that I preset as a basis. If, for some reason, my mother asks a question that I did not prepare my program for, then the program is scripted to have the call interrupted by the mother's other children and thus cut the conversation short by apparent necessity.

Despite that level of preparation, it didn't get that far. Instead, my mother had a nice but short conversation with a fake copy of a person who actually does exist but will never know this conversation took place.

During that week, I noticed, with a bit of interest, that Sweetie Belle is also absent for two days. I start to grow concern for her until she shows up on the third day, and Diamond Tiara along with her. They did not travel with each other, but I could tell that something important went down between them during Sweetie's absence.

Despite my curiosity, I forcefully set that issue aside for the moment. I have another fish to fry.

When the weekend rolls in, I board the bus after hugging my mother goodbye. I promise her that I would call on occasion during my absence, but that is yet another lie (although I potentially could if I do manage to return from Horse-Land early). Instead, yet another AI program, this one programmed to look and act like me, will call her instead so Mother will not worry.

Once I am on the bus, however, I get off at the very next stop. The bus driver looks at me in confusion. I explain to him that I forgot something important at home so I need to go back to get it. The bus driver gets an, “Ah! I see,” kind of look then explains to me that he can't give me a refund or wait for me to return, but he does give me a transfer slip that is good for the rest of the afternoon. I thank him with my new, ultimately pointless, prize then disembark the bus.

I sneak back to my home again and wait for my mother to leave. When she does, I approach the home to initiate the next phase of my mission.

Getting back into my own home is the easy part. I have the key, after all. The trickier part is logging onto my mother's administrative account to the computerized home security system just so I could erase any evidence of my return to home, but again . . . not too difficult for me. I know my mother and I know her passwords, even though I shouldn't. Such things are trivial to a genius cracker of my level of skill. There is no way this computer system can match my code fu with machines.

I also activate a program that puts our robot dog K-9 to sleep. Moreover, if anyone checks her software, they'll discover that she thought she is active the whole time she is asleep. I designed a virtual reality of the house for “her” to explore during the few minutes I return to be observed.

It is the security system to the basement that I spent the majority of my time preparing a week for, aside from the two AI programs I had to script to fool my mother.

Getting past the password lockout on the door is not too much trouble. After all, I have a hidden camera in the hallway aiming at the digital keypad all week long. She could change the password every hour if she wanted to. It does not matter when I am recording it every single time.

The real problem is the retinal scanner on the door. That one took some time to design a bypass. For that, I had to access the information from Mom's augmented reality glasses. It's not just capable of tracking eye movement, it's also a retinal scanner.

However, the information of that scan isn't stored in the glasses themselves, it is stored in our cellphones, and I had that one bugged a long time ago.

In fact, I was pretty proud of it because my mom has a pretty good security system on her phone which she designed. My program had to be subtle enough not only to bypass her firewalls, but also remain undetected on her phone while in use. Information as large as a retinal scan data took a long time to upload into the cloud because it only did it a few bits at a time, and only during moments my mother used the internet for something else.

Still, I succeed eventually. Once I had that information, I create a virtual reality image of her eye and have it uploaded to my phone. Then, when I type in the correct password on to the basement (after checking the latest video footage to make sure my mom didn’t change it again), I flip my glasses around and aim the inside lens of it at the retinal scanner. When it activates, it scans a recreated virtual copy of my mother's eye.

That was tricky for me to design during this past week. I had to painstakingly improve the design of that eye over and over again until it was flawless. I had also tested it with other retinal scanners just to be sure I got it right until the probability of a successful bypass was one-hundred percent, but to do that I had to make sure the glasses are aiming at the scanner in just the right way.

Yatta! The quest is successful! I may have gained enough experience points to gain a level as a hacker after that success.

I open the rather thick metal door that would be an envy of every military bomb shelter. Beyond, I see the stairs descend below me and out of sight due to the shadows. I feel along the wall for the light switch. LED light strips on both corners of the ceiling light my way.

Okay. From now on, this is new territory for me.

I descend down the stairs.

The lights in the room turn on in cascade upon entering. I discover that this basement is more like a shrine to a mad scientist. I am surrounded by organized chaos of machinery and half-finished projects.

In the midst of rudimentary stuff, I also notice several chalkboards filled to the brim with math equations. I try to ignore them, but they call for me. Those equations look pretty advanced which means they are a puzzle and my mind is starving for that shit. They might not be complete. Perhaps I could complete them, but then my mom would know I messed with her stuff?

I forcefully rip my gaze away from those puzzle boards which call out to my very soul. I don't have time for this!

I search around more carefully. Then, at last, I locate what I suspect I'm looking for. It is a decently sized contraption towards the back which surrounds a mirror.

As I approach it, I notice that my reflection is indeed in the mirror. The outfit I see myself wearing is a pink, one-piece Sunday dress. My white socks rise four inches past my knees. I'm wearing tiny black shoes with a small black strip over my feet to help secure them.There is a small white-collar extending down my neck. I'm still wearing my heart monitor/watch on my left wrist. Today I am also wearing my tiny golden heart-shaped locket. In it, one side has a picture of me hugging my mother to the side of me as we both face towards the camera. On the other side of the locket is cursive words, “Mommy and Me.”

A few tears squeeze up my eyes as I behold my tiny locket hanging on my neck in my reflection. This is a small reminder to me of what I'm fighting for.

Looking across the machine, I figure out how to turn it on. This part is pretty simple. It's just a button next to a computer monitor. When I press it, I wait for it to boot up. While it does, I fight to restrain my fear.

Here comes one of the scary parts. This computer is probably locked with a password of its own, and this time I do not have any video footage to show me the answer. This machine does not seem to have a way for me to interface with it, either, other than the keyboard and built-in mouse. I am going to have to get past this one the old fashion way.

Sure enough, a password screen pops on before it displays the desktop of the computer’s custom operating system.

Okay. I think back. I'm going to have to guess this one based on my knowledge of my mother.

I take a deep breath, then release it.

Here goes.

I first type in, “Equestria.”

The computer reports, “Incorrect password. Try again.”

I pause for a moment as I think about this again.

I can expect this system to have a smart design. My mother is no dummy. If I enter the incorrect password multiple times in a few minutes, it is probably programmed to enhance the security. It will probably challenge me with other questions to further verify my identity. During that time, it will lock the system down even tighter.

Meanwhile, I have to fire password attempts almost completely blindly.

She really might have typed a password which is a thirty-two digits long or more which is full of random letters, capitalized and lowercase, numbers, and symbols. If she went that far, I have a point zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-zero-eight-onepercent chance to get this right. I pretty much wouldn't have a chance at this, but I did not start this mission running on that assumption. My mom is not just a random string producing algorithm. She leads by her heart just as much as she does her head, so what is dear to her heart?

I think hard about this, then an answer pops into my head. I type, “Cozy Glow.”

The computer reports, “Incorrect password. Try again.”

I sigh. That’s disappointing.

Well, it was worth a shot. After that, it occured to me . . . this machine isn't just about me. She loves me, I’m pretty sure of that, but this portal leads to the magical realm of Horse-Land. My mother's counterpart came through a portal like that first. Before her, it was Sunset Shimmer. Before that . . . unknown, but somebody designed and opened these portals in the first place. God only knows who.

God may know, but my mother doesn't, so I have to base this off of her knowledge and feelings. What would it be with a machine like this?

It is a portal between two separate worlds that is similar but also very unlike our own. Beyond that portal is a world of magic but, to my mother, it has deeper meaning than that. It is not just a land of magic, but also a land that has a loose reflection of those she cares about in this world.

Another answer pops into my head. I reach for the keyboard but then hesitate. This will be the third wrong attempt if I fail this. There is at least a sixty percent chance that security measures will ramp up if I get the third attempt wrong. Am I really sure?

I pull my fingers back from the keyboard as I analyze this situation a lot more carefully. I decide to dissect this by analyzing every observable component to me.

For a moment I study the paint of the keyboard itself to ascertain if any of them look a little more worn than the others, but I discover too many look worn. My mother must have used this keyboard extensively at one time, probably when she first programmed the machine.

My mind runs at full gear. For me, the best way to analyse this problem is to visualize a chessboard. Every piece on the board represents a different nugget of fact that I am aware of that matters to my mother. One of the pieces is me, another is herself (I mentally assign her piece the white King), others are her friends, family, acquaintances, pets, and situations such as her job.

In my head, I move all pieces across the board in a way I predict my mother would have played the game. Every decision she made, every fact she observed, every reaction to that observation is represented in the chessboard in my head.

white pawn to A-6, black pawn to A-3, white pawn to E-6, black knight to H-3, white pawn advances from E-6 to E-7

At first I see the pieces move one at a time but, as I continue to observe this, the pieces move faster and faster. At first they are moving one piece every four seconds, then three seconds, then two, then one, then 2 per second, 3 per second, and so on.

Faster and faster. My mother's life plays out in my head.

Growing up isolated in Crystal Prep. Meeting her destined friends in the Friendship Games initially as an opponent. Her time in Camp Everfree.

Faster and faster!

Eighteen moves per second. Thirty-two moves per second. The pieces blink across the board faster than the eye can see. Barely one is on the board long enough before it moves again.

The whole game is like constant sparkling lights. Each piece blinks in and out of existence, dancing around each other. Black and white, constantly pushing and pulling at each other.

In my mind, I test every reality. Every possible scenario. Of all the infinite choices she could have made in life, it all resulted in this moment. This watered-down conclusion that funnels to a single point.

Over and over again I play the game. Each time it ends, I reset the board and play again, this time with different choices. Different paths Mom could have walked, but they all lead here to this moment. This inescapable conclusion, at least for this reality.

Sometimes, when the game resets, I restructure what each piece of the game represents. First it was those closest to her, then I moved away from that to other things upon future resets.

Meanwhile I keep tally of the game results. Every game that concludes with a certain probable direction, I keep track of that in order to compare it to the other test results.

No answer is perfect, but the one my mind keeps coming back to is my third theory. Not “Equestria”, not “Cozy Glow”, but . . .

I type, “Friendship is Magic,” then hit enter.

The computer reports, “Access Granted,” then changes to a primitive-looking DOS type screen, complete with blinking green square at the upper left corner.

I breathe a HUGE sigh of relief! That is a major hurdle I just overcame. If I didn't gain enough experience points with the last door, then this one definitely advances me a level.

Then I pause and think, “Friendship is Magic?” Really? She chose that over me?

Huh. No accounting for taste, I guess, but, to her, I guess that is the meaning of life. She used to be defined only by the knowledge she had, but now she prioritized friendship as the major focus of her life.

I wonder why... Friendship is so flimsy. It's only a game of pretenses.

The truth is, relationships are more like the Stock Market. Everything in life is buy and sell. It's a game of competition to see how you can come out with the most stuff, whatever that may be.

There is no such thing as true “friendship”, only temporary alliances of convenience. When the convenience ends, the alliance ends. Today's “friendships” might be tomorrow's “enemies”, and vice versa.

It's always changing and shifting depending on the needs of the individuals, but mortal humans cannot avoid one inescapable truth; in a world with limited resources, only the strong survive. It's kill or be killed when there isn't enough to sate everyone’s desires.

Smart people have realized that a long time ago, and they also realize why it's smart to limit sharing that knowledge. The more information is shared, the more advantage a potential opponent may get.

As smart as my mother is, she still believes there is more to the world than that basic fact of life. I pity the poor fool. I guess it's up to me to protect her from the ugly truth. I'll let her keep her meaningless fantasies. While she does that, I'll focus on what it actually takes to succeed in life; for me and for her.

I type, “Engage portal,” then press enter.

I look at the mirror as I see several machines around it come to life. Energy symmetrically swirls to the sides of the machine then gathers together to shoot a blast of a magical beam at the mirror. At that moment the mirror ceases to be a mirror and instead becomes a portal.

I look upon it, realizing that an even greater challenge lies ahead of me. I might have been blind to the activities in this room, but what is beyond that portal isn't even part of my world.

Also, there is no way of knowing what is on the other side until I step through. I am stepping through this totally blind.

There is a substantial risk that those on the other side might see the portal open and recognize me on sight as soon as I step through. Guards might be posted on the other side at all times to monitor anyone who travels through. Princess Twilight is a royal princess. She'll have plenty of personnel to spare for tasks like that.

This isn't just a risk, it is a substantial risk, but necessary for me to press forward. If I want to gather information, I'll have to do this myself.

I pause a moment to hide my augment reality glasses and heart monitor. I don’t want to risk them getting damaged after my mother told me about what happened to a test cellphone. After that I return my attention to the mirror, brace myself, then step through the looking glass.

Next Chapter: Chapter Nine: Welcome to Horse-Land Estimated time remaining: 15 Hours, 54 Minutes