Morbid Curiosity

Twilight sighed and ceased chewing the end of her quill. She wasn’t quite sure how to pen the letter she wanted to write to the princess; how does one ask for a live test subject?

The unicorn shook her head and put down her quill. ‘Celestia’s turned me down so many times for simple things, I doubt she’d allow me something as complicated as a living being.’ Twilight thought to herself, standing up and pacing around what she had deemed her laboratory; all of her notes and equipment having been covertly moved to Ponyville along with the unicorn herself.

Twilight was rather fond of the new area to perform her experiments in - with the chance to unpack came a chance to redecorate, and the sketches all had a little order to them now – organs were kept on the far wall above the desk, limbs and bone structure on the left wall and species-specific features on the rightmost. So far Twilight had only received Earth Pony and Pegasus cadavers, but had made use of the Pegasus on the structure of wings and the key feature of honeycombed bone interiors. A good quality unicorn yet evaded her, the process of capture and killing often being more violent than the others due to magical abilities, and the bodies rotted more quickly than the other two. Along the walls of the entrance to the lab were Twilight’s psychological notes, though these were significantly fewer than any of the others, not having had a live subject to talk to about their thoughts. The centre of the room was still occupied by the large stone slab used for a table and the instruments used for Twilight’s experiments.

There was, however, a new addition. Living in a tree, and thus the lab being under it, had given Twilight a chance to request a specific position for the lab: near the tree’s roots. The strong roots hung from specially designed holes in the concrete ceiling, curling at the ends but loose enough to be wrapped taught around something. For the moment it was used to keep light upon the table, but the positions and scale of the roots had been modified by Twilight to carry a very specific shape…

Twilight’s musings were interrupted by the sounds of Spike calling Twilight in a rather nervous voice. “Err … Twilight … You might want to read this …”

The mare snapped back to reality, putting her thoughts on how to phrase the request to one side for now. “I’ll be up in a second!” Twilight called back, quickly checking that everything looked in order and clean before making her way up the smooth concrete stairs.

Twilight pushed against the bookshelf that was used for a door. This design too had been updated – the bookshelf now contained identical books on both sides and rotated 180 degrees via a cylindrical pole running through its centre from top to bottom, allowing Twilight to quickly and easily access the lab rather than the relatively slow mechanised process from before. Of course, the security of the system meant that a lock was in place, so one still had to push in a very specific area to get the thing to rotate.

“Now would be good …” Spike whimpered, his voice trembling a little as he attempted to maintain it at a high volume.

“I’m here Spike, what is it?” Twilight asked, wielding a slightly happier tone at what Twilight had assumed to be nothing major.

Spike remained silent and simply held out a small piece of parchment bearing the royal insignia. Twilight gripped it with her magic and brought it before her face to read it.

Dear Twilight,

I regret to inform you that a wanted criminal has been reported in your area. His crimes are of the utmost despicable nature, and I shan’t recount them – suffice it to say that this stallion, despite the lack of blood on his hooves, is the worst of all those who break the law. I would ask that you keep away from him, and keep your new-found friends from him too. I’ll be sending a guard dispatch, due to arrive in a few days, to find and apprehend the stallion. DO NOT approach him. Needless to say, I’d ask you to keep this quiet – the stability of our society depends on it.

— Princess Celestia

What followed was an artist’s interpretation of the offender – a larger Stallion with stubble and tired hazel eyes; a cut black mane and tail, kept neat and short; his coat a lighter shade of blue. The cutie mark was not shown, the drawing being angled deliberately to avoid it.

Twilight curled up the parchment, and threw it over to a desk that constantly occupied a section of the downstairs foyer. “Thank you, Spike.” Twilight said, nearly all emotion vanishing from her voice as her mind ran through a thousand possibilities of this new information.

“Is there really a criminal here? I thought crime had been wiped out …” Spike asked, nerves still wracking his voice as he voiced the beliefs of most Equestrian citizens.

“There are a few that slip through the gaps, but they’re dealt with quickly. Annihilated, usually; unless their minds can be physically and psychologically altered to remove the personality they were and replace it with a new one.” Twilight explained, too disinterested in Spike’s concerns to bother trying to lie about how the Equestrian legal system worked on a serious scale. “Or they’re sent to the mines, if the conversion process is botched or they’re too resistant.” Twilight noted, remembering the brain-dead workers she had seen on a trip organised by the Princess when Twilight herself had asked about the peacekeeping system herself: eyes ever open, muscles working past the point of tearing and the subject showing no ill effects – the same schedule done day in day out, and no worker ever asking questions. Twilight became a little ecstatic thinking about how she could achieve similar results, and all the tests and experiments involved in doing so, even if it was simple curiosity talking. The complete destruction of freewill … there was a twisted beauty to it, in Twilight’s mind.

Spike audibly gulped. “I … I’m just going to go and lie down for a bit …” he muttered before turning his entire body and unblinkingly making his way up the stairs to the bedroom.

Twilight nodded her approval, utterly unconcerned with how Spike conducted himself. She doubted anyone would believe him about the new information she had given him; and even if the dragon decided to try and dig up some proof … well, Twilight wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to learn about dragon physiology.

The unicorn shook the thoughts from her mind. ‘I’m a scientist, not a murderer! My experiments aren’t done for convenience as some cover up; they’re done for the pursuit of knowledge!’ Twilight told herself. And yet, in the back of her mind, she began to quietly make contingencies about such an event – unbeknownst even to her conscious mind, Twilight planned.

The forefront of her mind, however, was focused on something else. She moved slowly toward the door to exit her home, internal thoughts vocalising themselves. ‘This scum wouldn’t be missed, and he wasn’t known to the civilian populous – so it was time to deal justice, retribution; make him suffer for what he has done …’ Twilight’s mind told her, her face grimacing with determination and anger at the thought. ‘And to acquire a live test subject.’ Twilight hastily pinned to her thoughts, muttering and fading gradually back to her usual tone. She felt her heart skip a few beats thinking back to what she had just told herself, unsure entirely what to make of it. She felt disgusted to say what she did, but … it felt amazing to say them and imagine the consequences, even if only reluctantly to herself.

There was a word Twilight knew from the Griffon language, a word that she felt appropriate to use as she exited her home to find her new subject: Hunt.