Catalyst 2.0: Librarian

>Twilight Sparkle had never been so coherently angry in her life.  Frustration was a wasted term for the way her heart had been beating when she thought about him.
>How could he?
>WHY could he?
>How had Gilda survived his attacks? She hadn't brought herself to tell him she'd found that fragment, in that discarded skeleton.  She'd even lied to Rarity, outright, to keep her safe from the violence he was so obviously willing to forget.
>To make matters even worse, her verbal lashing had gotten ahead of what she had actually intended it to mean.  She'd been so focused on getting the data, she'd tried to lambaste him- a guilt trip, a nudge fueled by shame.
>It had merely secured his decision.
>Two days departed, and there it was.  That gap of knowledge, just... Sitting there.
>That arrogant, chastising grin in the middle of that filthy, hanging cloud.
>She'd put the image as her desktop background.  She'd filtered it, had it enlarged and refused formats that caused compression.  The quality loss had been nil.  She wanted to see it, peruse it, hoping to see some minute detail she hadn't before.
>The information was still out there.  Data was like blood in the body; it could hemorrhage in the owners server, could ooze from cuts in the information transfer.  She simply needed to find the right vein to pierce, or even the right spatter to collect.
>The more she surfed the datastreams, the more snippets of clues of possibilities she found, the less sleep she'd had.  Today, though. Today was different.
>Today, she was going to ask the Librarian.
>There were only two problems.

>The first, was how to gain access to him.  Once she was with him, there would be no problem. Getting to him, was the real issue.
>She knew he was in Celestia's employ.  That put him inside the Monolith, Celestia's tower and main office center.  She was not entirely welcome there, but it was more of a stance on safety and legality.  Not to mention the political implications of a sudden, unexpected visit to her old mentor's newer home.  Therein, lied the issue.
>She hadn't had the permissions, nor the time and will, to wander the Monolith.  In her few visits, they had all been so focused, and her access so restricted, that she'd been limited to single wings.  Out of the seventy in the building, she'd visited three.  She had no idea where he even was.  With the security and layout, it could take a day or more.  Time was a luxury, with data.
>Twilight walked through the fresh, familiar town.  She'd taken a plain transport, just like everyp0ny else.  Landed in the palace districts, just like everyp0ny else.  Taken to wearing an otherwise featureless, white-and gold matching body suit, just like everyp0ny else.
>Her mane brushed back and done up in a ponytail, a cosmetic band holding it tightly back while bracing it just above the horn.  She felt it bob on each step, brushing gingerly on the bands of her saddlebags that held her traveling tablet.  Thick goggles hid her eyes, a solid white plastic with a screen inside for her to view from the tiny, glowing cameras hidden in eyeslits.

>Unlike everyp0ny else, her ID had been humbled.  She had a privacy enforcement upon her VIP status, causing the local guards to see her as a ping amongst the crowd.  They might be social nobility, but for Twilight, there was a difference.  She'd actually done something besides schmooze.  To the guards, that put her up a little higher on the heirarchy.  That, and her brother was their damned captain.
>The white-plated guards tracked her with their eyes.  They were in formal attire; this part of Canterlot had not been fully retrofitted, and it suited the vain public eye to keep them “pretty.”  None had helmets.  Their necklines were trimmed in gold, stairway-like bands that clung to ivory cloth.  They were armed, of course, the harnesses hidden by hanging cloth that draped over the shotgun harnesses and brushed the ground like robes.
>It had been such a long time.  Stepping on marble this old, this... “Unrevisited,” had her worrying that her weight would crack it.  She'd not made the mistake of using natural materials in her own home.
>The buildings hadn't lost their luster.  Tall, curved towers, augmented with small layers of solar panels that tracked the sun.  Small comms towers forming a local network, all focusing in on where she was heading.
>The Monolith stood above everything.  It was not tall, but it loomed high in the mountains on which the original Canterlot had been built. Thick beams came from all angles, supporting the transport pods that lifted to the building.  As she boarded one of the large, public pods, she took to wondering more about the second problem.
>The data.

>It was unorganized, disheveled, and barely coherent.  How she could possibly hope to gather anything with what little she had, she had no idea.  With what the Librarian had access to, however, her chances were infinitely more vast.
>Then again, so was the supply of irrelevant data.
>She came to realize she was alone on that tram.  Not a guard sitting with her in the rug, not a Conglomerate worker on the cushioned, white velvet seats.  Looking out the window, she noticed a distinct lack of other pods.
> Not yet reaching sunset, the sky had started to darken. After pinging the local schedules, she discovered the public pods were not supposed to be running so late.  Somep0ny knew she was here.
>Somep0ny had watched her ping through the city, and allowed her the use of that pod.
>Though, why should SHE have been worried?
>Twilight might not have gotten a welcome message in her AR, but she was certainly not hated.  Not by the Celestian Conglomerate- That CEO and matriarch had all the right in the world to simply let her inside.
>Peculiar, though, that she hadn't sent a hello.  More so, that security was so casual.
>Peculiar, indeed...
>PrettyFilly: Twilight?
>PrettyFilly: Answer your calls!
>Twilight rolled her eyes behind the goggles.  She let her horn glow a moment, charging the uplink ring.  She'd taken to keeping it drained recently, with all the altercations she'd gotten in with Rarity over her stubborn coltfriend.
>seven messages, all within the course of an hour.  God, how Twilight wished some ponies had an “off” switch.
>Moniker: I'm busy.  Leave a message.
>PrettyFilly: don't be like that.  I'm just worried, is all.

>Twilight sighed.  She flicked her head to the side, a little tick she'd developed in answering her uplink.  Rarity's face came into view, showing she was at her home console.
>Pinkie was behind her, peering from various angles.  Bored before Rarity even managed to say hello, she trotted off screen. “Finally. Darling, where are you off to in such a hurry?”
>”It's less about being 'off to,' and more about 'being there.'  I'm in Canterlot.”
>”And you didn't even tell me you were going? Twilight, I'm hurt.” she chuckled a little.
>”Oh, please. Half the ponies here want to travel just to visit the tower. You're more celebrity than anyp0ny here is, with a couple exceptions.”
>Rarity gave a haughty laugh, waving it off. “You know it's a matter of principle, dear.” she said.  “Good show, and all that.  I just wish you'd said something, I'd have loved to take Sweet Heart with me.”
>Yeah, Twilight thought. That's kind of why I didn't ask.
>”Why on Equestria did you leave so suddenly, though?”
>”Well, since HE'S being so uncooperative, I decided to try and gather some more information myself.  There isn't enough on the network, so I'm asking the Librarian.”
>”Oh.  Well, in that case, I'm rather glad I didn't go.” She gave an awkward, shifty-eyed smile.
>Twilight smirked.
>Sweet Heart crept up from below the desk.  Her horn appeared first, then those large, curious eyes.  She was watching the screen intently, before poking Rarity in the side.
>Her father trotted up, scrubbing her mane.
>Twilight's mood soured further.  “Look, I really am busy. I have to present what I've got so far to him, and do so in such a way he doesn't simply throw me to the wind. I do NOT want to be dead in the water.”
>”Wassat?” Sweet Heart asked, pointing with a hoof.
>Wait.
>Oh, hell.  The goggles were transmitting the visual data.
>”Oh, I'm just talking with Twilight, dear.  Be a good girl and go play.”
>”Hey,” he said. “wait a second.” His head dipped down.  Sweet heart squealed, then lifted. She was held atop his head like a very large, four-legged hat.  “Look out the window, Twilight.”
>She groaned.  She turned around, her forehooves slung over the back of one of the long seats.  She looked down, at the city she was slowly lifting away from.
>Old, white architecture, organic and polished.  Forged by magic, gold lingered upon the rounded rooftops and balconies, a dedication to the old Celestian design aesthetics.  A few graces had been given, the use of pure magic having given it spinning, ribbon-like sculptures of marble and interwoven gold connecting various structures.  Such a show of artistry was respected, still, and all of it remained in pristine maintenance.
>It gave way to metals closer to the base of the mountain, the construction bibles having changed dramatically once math had come into play more than magic.  Though they remained white, the shade was simply not the same.  Perhaps it was the blurry, dull reflection of the sky around it, but it seemed far less lustrous.  It could also have been the supply of glass, or the more jagged nature of the buildings.
>They were not art, though.  They were merely there, and served a function.
>”Cool!” Sweet Heart said.  From below, her father's eyes were locked on the screen just as much as hers were.  They were more alike than Twilight dared to admit.
>Pinkie was peering over Rarity's shoulder again. Somehow, she had snuck up on the screen, and had been watching.  “Seen it!” she said, and trotted off again.
>”Sheesh,” Twilight said. “What's wrong with her?”
>”She's been dealing with her agents.  She was supposed to be on set to record a musical number with Sweetie Belle, but...  She simply refuses to leave.”
>”The life of a diva is a hard one, huh?”
>Rarity hmphed.
>The tram started to slow.  Twilight turned to the window, prompting an “Aww, man.” From both Sweet Heart and the stallion holding her up.
>”Look, I have to go.  The guards don't even like photo's around the outskirts, let alone video feeds.”
>”Well, darling, take care.  We're looking forward to what you find.”
>If anything is out there to be found, Twilight thought.
>She clicked off her uplink, lifting a hoof to the goggles.  She double-tapped the front button, the grips releasing from her nosebridge and allowing her to remove them.  She stowed them in her saddlebag, and sat where she was.
>The door opened.  When Twilight saw the guard tasked to her, the single, prosthetic back leg thumping as he entered the pod, she slumped back and put her hooves to her temples.
>“What are you doing here, Twilight?”  Shining Armor asked.
>She just looked back at him, flopping her hooves into her lap.
>”Not even a hello?” he lofted a brow.
>”Heh. Yeah.  Hi.” Her throat tensed on the words.  She hadn't even talked to him since the memorial ceremony.
>He shook his head. “I meant before now.  You know you could've given me some warning.  You think I wouldn't have prepared more for my baby sister?” He stood next to her, his gaze sharpened to a stiletto point.
>”I didn't even know I'd be coming.” she said, stammering the excuse. “This was kind of a spur of the moment thing.”
>He smiled. “Horn noogie!”
>Twilight squeaked as he ran his hoof along the tip of her horn, back and forth.  “Uncle!” she cried, after only three or four grids.  She shoved his armored form off, while he chuckled.
>She let out the cold breath in her chest.  Then, she laughed. Why had she been so nervous?  This was her home turf she was treading, right?
>”But, really.” he said. “Why are you here? I need to get you processed.” He gestured with his head.  She followed him through the door, and had to trot to catch up.
>While his ceramic hoof clacked along the hard, polished floor, they paused at the front desk.  “Oh, you know.  Sensitive data.” she tapped her saddlebag with a hoof.  “I need to see someone that can make some connections I can't at home.”
>”On to the Library, huh? Nowhere else?”  He waved off a pair of guards, his AR vision glittering.  On her own, Twilight received a mail moments later.  It was a temporary guest pass, a digital encryption key contained in a small, self-expiring program.
>She had fourty-eight hours.  Generous, considering the state of her arrival.
>”Well, I suppose I could stop by your place after I drop off the data.”
>”Yeah, that... Wouldn't be a good idea.”
>”What? Why?”
>”Cadence is sick.” He looked back at Twilight, tapping his own horn.
>”Oh no, a horn cavity?” she asked.  “I remember what it was like before getting it filled. Those hurt so bad that-”
>”No, Twilight.”  He tapped again.  After a more cautious glance, Twilight realized he was tapping his horn uplink.
>She simply looked at him, while he continued to walk.  “I... Don't understand.”
>”Really?” He asked.  “You, of all ponies, don't know?”  He stopped, and she had to turn to look back at him.  They stared at each other.
>”No, really.  I've been preoccupied with work on-” She stopped herself, barely in time.
>Shining Armor didn't know.  Twilight hadn't even told Celestia.  With how he got that leg, how could she tell her brother that HE, was alive?
>Shining Armor sighed. “Yeah, that was the only way to stop you from finding things out.  Distract you.” he shrugged and resumed his stride.
>”What is it? Tell me.”
>”She caught a virus.”
>”A virus? A magical one that effects horns or something?”
>”No.” he said.  “Digital.”
>It took a moment for Twilight to comprehend it.  She almost laughed. “Oh come on.  Just run Symantec and it'll route whatever a horn uplink could catch.”
>”It penetrated her Augmented Reality.” he said.
>”Wait, what?!”
>”Yeah.  It did something to her.  It messed with her head, showed her a lot of images, made her hear voices.  She started having nightmares.  Hearing her wake up screaming is not a way you want to wake up yourself, Twilight.”
>”Jeez, I can understand why.  But that's linked to the nervous system, how could anything digital even hijack that? It's like a ponies own biological encryption key.”
>”It's not uncommon.  It's been going around.  I figured that's what you were here for when you mentioned sensitive data- I thought you were on top of it. Either that, or you'd caught it yourself.”
>”I... No.”  A sense of forlorn duty hit her like a brick to the chest.  Why was it, around him, that feeling was always so paramount?  “you don't seem too worried about it, though.”
>He shrugged. “I am.  It's all psychological effects, though, and she's a strong mare.  The only thing effecting her body is the stress it's causing.”  Out of the corner of his eye, he thinned his gaze to her.  “She's not really ill from it.  She's scared of what it might end up doing to ponies that can't withstand it's effects like her.
>For that, I guess I have to ask you a favor.” He looked up at the Library door, the corridor giving way to the massive, stoic entryway.  It was unadorned, a single ping above it, probing Twilight for her encryption key.  “You still owe me one for taking that time off to help that construct in the club.”
>”You don't have to cash in on that.  Not for Cadence.”
>He smiled again.  “Thanks, Twiley.”
>”I don't really have time with what I've got on my hooves.  It's a lot to ask of Librarian, though, to look up both things at once.  If you could give me the data you've got on the virus, I'll do some work on that while he works on mine.”
>”Sounds like a plan.  If you could though,” He peered up along the door. “Ask him about it anyway?”
>”Why haven't you?”
>”Because, he's damned creepy.  And, he doesn't like being disturbed for personal matters. I'm afraid he'll think I'm just trying to help out my wife.”  He tapped her side.  “You better hope he doesn't see your data as something exclusively “you.”
>Twilight laughed nervously.  “He won't.  If he does, I'll just have to put him in his place.”
>At that, Shining Armor laughed. “you'd be the only one that could, huh?”  He turned and left, giving Twilight a wave.  She took to watching him trot away, that one faux hoof clapping the ground in the empty corridor.
>I am so bucked, she thought.
>She looked up toward the ping atop the door, and gulped.  She closed her eyes, sending her key toward it.  For several seconds, it didn't seem to work; the door remained still.  Then, a rumbling, growling voice boiled within her AR hearing.
>”Moniker.” The vibration from the noise made her lungs and skin shake.  It was not simply coming from her AR; it was piercing the door with it's bass.  “It's been a while.”
>The door took quite a while to open.  It's pace was barely above a crawl, and when Twilight entered, she saw why.  meter-thick, cylindrical metal beams extended across the rear side.  Reinforcements to the door, magnetic locks hissed out heat as the thermal sinks dispersed the waste from withdrawing the weight. The door itself was thicker than her entire body.  And still, his voice had punctured it.  Had he learned magic since she last talked to him?
>There he sat.  On the walls surrounding him, digital grimiores numbered in the hundreds, if not thousands.  He rested on a single disc within the center, separate from the floor, weighty fiber-optic cabling extending from the sides of his podium like webs that had fallen from the ceiling.  The silken fibers poured light to and from it, in pulsating, sickly blue waves.
>He was the height of a small building.  Draped in thick, white cloth, it poured over the dragon's shoulders to form a robe, a split in the fabric to make room for each wing.  His wings flared outward as he knelt down over the tiny hologram podium, causing the lace of fiber-optics to shift as he brought himself eye to eye with her.  He smiled, a row of razor sharp teeth bearing themselves along his long snout.  “It's good to see you.” he rumbled.
>Twilight hugged at his nose.  “It's good to see you too, Spike.”
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