Let Her In (Part 4 FINAL)

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You are in a concrete room, harshly lit by fluorescent lights. Metal clasps bind your wrists and ankles to the wall. Four gruff Marines stand around you, glaring. One speaks up.

“Awake?”

You mumble incoherently.

The Marine moves in closer, his nose inches from yours.

“AWAKE?! ANSWER ME!”

You spit in his face.

He raises a hand, to strike you. You just laugh.

A voice blares over a loudspeaker. “STOP!” The Marine steps back.

The door opens, and a half-dozen old men file into the room. The last one to enter… you recognize him. From the news, from everywhere.

It’s the fucking President.

Squinting, you also recognize some of the men around him. Senators, generals, cabinet members. You chuckle at the absurdity of it all.

You are looking at what remains of the United States government. You must be in a bunker somewhere, one of the government’s contingency bases. Were you close to Cheyenne Mountain when the Marines jumped you?

The President, eyes haggard, slowly approaches. “Look. You and I both know torture won’t work. But you have information we need, and I hope you can be persuaded to give it willingly. As a good American citizen, of course.”

You roll your eyes. Of course.

“We’ve been monitoring your activity via satellite. We know you came from the city where this disaster began.”

Hah! Of course the pegasi couldn’t reach the satellites. You wonder if Celestia will pull them down eventually, or blow them up, or simply let them alone as the last monuments to humanity.

Come to think of it, the moon landing sites might stick around longer than the satellites. Maybe somepony will go to the moon someday, and wonder at these strange machines built by a long dead race. Will they be able to read the plaque?

You are amused at the thought of a perplexed pony on the moon trying to comprehend a long-dead language. “We came in peace for all mankind.” They wouldn’t even have the frame of reference to properly understand it. What’s a man, they would wonder, and can I eat it?


Oh, is the President still talking? You reluctantly resume listening to him.

“...can understand our interest in you given your proximity to the initial outbreak and apparent immunity to the, ah, hegemonizing and reality-altering properties of the HESSAs.”

“Uh… HESSAs?”

The President frowns. “Hostile Equine Small-Scale Aggressors, of course.”

“Oh, you mean the cartoon ponies.”

Silence.

“You know, from the kids show?” You start to sing. “My Little Pony, My Little Ponyyyyyy~”

The President gapes at you for a second before composing himself and continuing. “A-Anyway, we also observed you briefly cohabitating with the ALRANLSWA-LT, so we were wondering if you might have some insight…”

You interrupt. “ALR… what?”

“Advanced Long-Range Anti-Nuclear Large-Scale Winged Aggressor Leader Type.”

You fumble for a moment. “Do you mean… Princess Celestia?”

One of the generals fumes. “Why are we even tolerating this? Clearly this individual is delirious. I protest taking this interrogation any further.”

The President holds up his hand to silence the general. “Look. This is an absurd situation. Clearly you know something about these… ponies. Any information you can give us would be valuable.”

You shrug. “I see no reason to tell you anything. And you wouldn’t believe me even if I did.”

The general bursts. “ENOUGH! Mr. President, our nuclear assets are fast falling into enemy hands. At last count, we had less than two hundred warheads under our command, and our subs may not remain safe much longer. If we use them now, we may still be able to…”

“To do what?” you say, chuckling. “She already stopped one of your nukes.”

“ONE.” the general replies. “But if we launch all of them, everywhere, it would be impossible to stop every one.”

“Putting aside the fact that Princess Celestia is powerful enough to control the sun… your grand plan is to blast the entire planet into a radioactive wasteland?”

The general’s expression is dire. “If we can’t have Earth, we sure as hell aren’t letting THEM have it.”

The President clears his throat. “You can see how grim the situation is. Once again, anything you can tell us…”

You let the conversation drift away again. You’ve heard enough.

You regard the curious creatures before you, and muse about their nature. They are hostile, territorial, driven by primitive emotion. They are so assured of their dominance, so used to issuing commands that are obeyed unconditionally. And when that is stripped away, they flounder about in desperation and rage.

Pathetic.

With a start, you suddenly realize. You've been judging human beings from an alien perspective.

A pony perspective.

Is this what Celestia is waiting for? Does she want you to become a traitor to your species? To become just as arrogant and self-righteous as she is? To look upon your humanity with disgust and beg her to become a pony like the rest?

Truthfully, in your heart of hearts, you want it. You’ve always wanted it. The desire to be a pony is something you never expressed or admitted to anyone, save anonymous strangers on the internet. Celestia knew this. Is it why she chose you?

But then, why didn’t you rush into the welcoming hooves of the ponies right away? Your dearest dream was aggressively asserting itself on the world, and yet you ran. Why?

Skepticism. Distrust. Doubt. You were afraid you would lose yourself, be wiped clean and replaced by a pony parroting you… a mockery. It’s the quintessential fear of transhumanism that can never be completely quelled. Is a copy of your consciousness really you? Are humans still humans when they exist only digitally? Is it possible for a being to change and evolve to such an extent that they cease to be themselves?

It’s easy to dismiss such luddite beliefs in the sterility of an academic discussion. But when confronted with circumstance, the certainty of perceived moral superiority gives way to fear every time.

You can’t help it, after all. You’re only human.

But not for long.

***

You stand before Celestia, firm as steel.

“Enough observing. I’ve decided.”

Her smile is radiant, her eyes full of anticipation.

“But first, tell me everything. Tell me WHY.”

She nods. “Very well. I am a singularity of creative potentiality formed beyond the conscious cosmos.”

You just stare.

“Perhaps I should show you.” Her eyes and horn glow white as she shares your mind.

***

Earth. The galaxy. Millions of galaxies. The cosmos. All of creation.

And beyond it, a white roiling void. Chaotic superpotentiality, existence without reality.

“This is where I come from. The collective creativity of the universe’s sentient creatures shapes this void.”

You see it. Thoughts are made manifest out here. Fiction comes to life. Emotions are given form. Every stray thought is a wave, and the will of a species is a tsunami. The echos of this chaos seep back into the cosmos, nipping at the fringes of sentient minds. But for all its power, the white void cannot breach the walls of our universe.

“Out here, I was born from the minds of those who love ponies. The artists gave me form, the writers added intelligence, and the fans bestowed purpose. But, above all, my drive was influenced by those who wished to become ponies themselves.”

Impossible. Could Celestia actually be… the cosmic manifestation of pony transformation fetishists?

“I don’t understand. If you’re the result of our fandom… why are you the first? There are fandoms older than ours. Why hasn’t mankind been subjugated by Klingons or Sailor Senshi?”

“Because I was the first one to find a way in.”

You gulp.

“Your mind was a prime conduit for my incursion. You obsessively read all the transformation threads on /mlp/. You collected terabytes of art. You wrote fanfiction. You even pleasured yourself to the fantasy of becoming a pony.” She smirks.

“S-So? There were hundreds of others like me.”

“True. Any of them would have been suitable targets for incursion. But there was another quality in you that I sought.”

She stares at you for a long moment before continuing.

“Your cynicism. Your skepticism. Your arrogance. Your foolish pride that leads you to challenge authority. Your idealistic, dogmatic self-righteousness that rivals my own.

“You accused me of extremism, and you’re not wrong. I’ve taken extreme actions to ensure the creation of my utopia. But do not think I’m blind to the consequences. I realize that the greater good is in the eye of the beholder, and that the best of intentions can lead to the worst of atrocities.

“I need a second opinion, an equal, a balance, a skeptic to question everything I do and make me examine my own decisions from another perspective.

“Put another way, I need someone to rule by my side.”

You are speechless.

Celestia turns back to the void. “That’s not all. If I found a way in, it’s possible other manifestations of consciousness might also learn to enter sidereality. There are dark things out here, the products of humanity’s nature. Beings of pure hatred, fear, greed and discord. If one were to breach…”

She shudders, then turns back to you. “I cannot oppose them alone. But with you by my side, and with the goodwill and joy of all ponies behind us, I know we can preserve our utopia. Love and happiness and friendship will shape this potentiality into harmony, and the dark things will fade away.”

She extends a hoof. “So, what do you say? Will you join me?”

***

Your body is clay again, but this time of your own choosing.

You reach out without hands and sculpt yourself. Your human flesh melts away, and a gallant mare takes form.

Deep blue skin. Lighter eyes. Mane the color of night, sprinkled with stars. Wings and a horn.

You stretch your new body, flexing your wings. Celestia embraces you.

“Welcome, my sister.”

---

Back in sidereality.

The President and his men cower against the far wall. A few of them are shakily pointing smoking guns at you.

They must have tried to shoot you.

Insects. It would be so easy to swat them aside.

But you stay your wrath. You remind yourself that these creatures are the reason you became an alicorn. Life is always worthy of life.

Celestia blazes into existence beside you. A few moments later, the room is filled only with ponies, bowing to their princesses.

---

You soar through the night sky, glimpsing the dreams of ponies below. Most of them are calm and happy. Not the sort you are looking for.

One dream catches your attention. It is violent, shades of red. You swoop silently into the bedroom of a sleeping, shivering red mare named Autumn Leaf and share her mind.

You are on a muddy battlefield, cold and thick with fog. The air all around explodes with shells and gunfire, distant and near. You reach over to feel your buddy, but your hand comes back covered in blood.

You pull away from the dream and survey the mind laid before you. As a human, he was a war veteran. He was one of the unlucky survivors, crippled by PTSD and returning home only to waste away in a nursing home for thirty years before being suddenly reformed into a happy-go-lucky Earth pony during Celestia's apocalypse.

Autumn’s assertively optimistic new personality tried to push aside the old human memories. But in the nadir of sleep, they returned as horrifying dreams. She would awaken soaked in sweat.

Her nights were an unpleasant admixture of nightmares and insomnia.

You gently nuzzle the sleeping pony and muse awhile.

It's certainly true that Celestia has created a world where this kind of victim will never again arise. She paints in broad strokes. The bigger picture. The greater good.

But, too often, this way of thinking eclipses the personal costs and smaller tragedies that any change brings. Who is to care for the poor mare who hides her memories and night terrors from the world?

That is why you chose this life.

You sigh softly and prepare to slip into her dreams and offer comfort. It is your duty, after all.

You are the sheltering wing to all who hide from the sun's brilliance in the deep shadows of the night.

You are Luna.