You can do it.
That stupid voice, here it was again, telling her what to do. But she knew who that voice really was, didn't she?
Go on. Don't think silly things like that. That's not logical. Let's just get this over with.
Twilight moved it a few inches closer to her head and began to reflect on how it all happened.
It began, as far as she could remember, last week. Six days ago, actually. And how well she had remembered those six days.
It had started with the sluggish waking up in the middle of the night after a period of problematic insomnia. She had managed to get to sleep, but it wasn't a comfortable sleep, not at all. She was plagued by the thoughts of her studies, the disturbing things she had been thinking about recently, but mostly it was the voice - ceaseless, taunting, cruel. She couldn't remember when the voice had started talking to her, but it had been early in her life. She had always dismissed it as merely a case of brain overload, a simple outlet for her substantial magical energy, but whatever it was, it was there.
And it was not nice.
The voice often assisted her with her studies. It gave her epiphanies that she never would have suspected. Some of her best sarcastic remarks had come from the voice.
But only crazy ponies heard voices.
Stop it, Twilight, she thought, not in the other voice but in her own voice. You're not crazy. Of course she wasn't; she was one of the most brilliant ponies in the history of Equestria. How could she be crazy?
She dragged herself groggily out of bed, careful not to wake Spike. She didn't want him to catch her studying the things she was studying.
Catch me? she thought. Why would I think of it that way? He wouldn't catch me doing anything. It's just studying, as usual.
Yeah. Sure. Of course it was.
Being careful not to make any loud noises, the unicorn magically extracted a volume from the top shelf of her study. Internal Anatomy of the Average Equestrian, the spine read. The front showed a detailed diagram of an alicorn (as to include all possible anatomical varieties) and the back had a short summary and a note from the author.
Twilight opened up the book, again using magic. She looked around with a furtive glance as to make sure nopony was watching.
What's with the guilt, Twilight? the voice struck in her head unannounced, like a cold bell in the dark night. Worried somepony will catch you?
No, Twilight said back, attempting to contain her fright at the voice's sudden intrustion. And even if they did, it wouldn't be a problem. I'm just studying ponies.
The voice laughed cruelly at her. Of course you are. Carry on.
Twilight shook her head to see through with its dismissal, and started reading. The book was an interesting one - it detailed the structure of the brain and what different functions the different parts had.
What interested Twilight more were the ten or so pages the book contained that explained the highly controversial idea of open brain surgery. Some scientists believed that if somepony with a problem could have the problem traced back to a certain area of the brain, that part of the brain could be cut out and the pony's problem would be solved. Of course, this was extremely tricky to pull off, and the few cases in which it had worked it had proven to be disastrous. For example, a pony with a personality disorder was treated privately with brain surgery, and some surgeon had ended up accidentally cutting a different part of her brain in the process, causing her to have traumatic brain damage for the rest of her life.
But that was just some surgeon, Twilight. You can do better than that.
Twilight tried to shake the voice off, but suddenly she realized that for the first time, the voice was right. She stopped to listen.
Do you think somepony like that surgeon could have put down Nightmare Moon? What about Discord? Or that Ursa Major? You defeated all of those single-hoofedly. Could "some surgeon" have done that?
Twilight was distracted by the truthful quality of the voice. No, she admitted to it. That surgeon probably couldn't have done those things. Although, I did have my friends to help me the first two times. And the Ursa Major wasn't really an Ursa Major. It was an Ursa Minor.
Oh, you're kidding yourself, the voice scoffed. Who cares if it was minor or major? It was a monster, and you sent it running. And your friends? Really? You think that your neurotic batch of silly friends actually helped you, a great sorceress and the smartest pony alive?
My friends aren't neurotic, Twilight yelled back, but with little force. She knew the voice was right. Take Fluttershy, for instance. She was always so shy, never assertive, always afraid. And what about Applejack? She was stubborn as hell. She never let anypony help her. Being antisocial was one thing, but that? That was just rude, and a detrimental effect for poor Applejack, who had to deal with it every day. And Rarity. It was normal to care about oneself's appearance, but Rarity was absolutely obsessive. Her dress-making... she was deluded. Then there was Rainbow Dash, who wouldn't stop flying around, causing chaos and being rude and obnoxious. And Pinkie Pie? She was always jumping around, crazily yelling and shouting and singing. Plus, she was addicted to sugary treats - that couldn't be good for a pony's health.
Yes, the voice chimed with the strength of a million voices. Yes they are, and you know it. And you can fix them, if you only try.
I... I guess you're right. Twilight's mind cowered under the might of the incredible weight of the voice. In reality far away, the stars danced under the moonlight. But what if I mess up?
So stubborn, said the voice with disgust. But if you must, then you could try it first on another pony.
But who? Twilight had never been more confused, more lost. This is crazy, who would I try this on first? I know I want to help my friends...
It came to her as clear as the voice's tones: Derpy.
Derpy wasn't truly crazy, and she wasn't truly disabled. But she certainly did have something wrong with her. Her eyes were all messed up, and she was always doing klutzy, stupid things.
Poor Derpy. How sad that would be to live with.
But it was okay. Twilight would fix her.
Yes, yes you will, the voice coldly told her, and she listened to its instruction as she flipped from the pages discussing brain surgery to earlier diagrams of the body, of the brain and its functions, and studied them in the dim light of the moon.
She found the mailmare on the edge of the Everfree forest, delivering mail to Fluttershy. Poor, poor, illogical Fluttershy.
"Hey, Twilight!" Derpy grinned a goofy, big-toothed smile at her. "I'm sorry. I don't have any letters for you, if that's what you're coming to ask me."
Twilight couldn't help but glare at the stupid expression on the mare's face and feel a dull fury. She was glad that she would fix it soon, and everypony would hail her as a hero. She considered telling Derpy about her plans. Getting her to volunteer. Showing her how much she wanted to help.
Instead, she said, "Hey, Derpy! No, I'm not concerned about mail. Celestia handles that for me." She gave a cheesy grin in response to the mailmare's. "Derpy, could you follow me for a second? I want to show you something fun in the Everfree Forest."
"Sure, Twilight!" The mare never ceased her grin. "I've got all day to deliver these letters. We can spare a few minutes!"
There was not a shortage of vines growing on the trees. Twilight had used these in combination with her magic to pin Derpy down to a large rock.
"Twilight," Derpy had said, her crossed eyes highlighting a nervous expression, "What's going on?"
"Derpy, I'm sorry I have to do this," Twilight responded in an off-hand way, deeply concentrating on the bag of supplies she had brought along. "I'm going to fix you. Your eyes will be normal, and you'll have a much easier time thinking."
"That," Derpy said, "doesn't sound so bad, but why do I have to be tied down for you to fix me?" The mare's mind was focused on childish images of tacky, beeping machines. Maybe Twilight would hook one onto her head like a helmet, and then with a POP! her eyes would be fixed. Then Derpy would remark at how happy she was, thank Twilight for her help, and show off her cured self to her friends.
"So you don't struggle." Twilight pulled out a hypodermic needle and filled it with a clear liquid. That morning, she had grabbed the bottle of liquid from a shelf in her potions cabinet, thinking it to be a strong painkiller. But it was actually an extract of a Northern herb that heightened the senses for a short period of time.
"Oh!" Derpy said, her previous images clearing away. "It's like a shot! Like the vaccines you get at the doctor!" Everything was clear to her now. Twilight would give her the shot, there would be a POP! and her eyes would be normal. THEN she would untie her and the thanking would commence, and she could go back to normal life.
Tell her the truth, mocked the voice. Tell her you're going to cut her open.
"Yup," Twilight said instead. "That's exactly how it works. Now I'll need you to hold still..."
Derpy's corpse lay on the ground at her hooves, the back of her head gruesomely spliced open. Why had the painkiller not worked? It should have kept her nice and drowzy while Twilight worked on her. While she fixed her.
It's okay, the voice said in her head. We all mess up from time to time. That was just one failure, Twilight. It means nothing. You can hide her body and make up a cover story about how she flew away to Fillydelphia or something.
A cover story. That was brilliant! But now I'm sad, Twilight responded. It didn't work. I'll never get to cure my friends of their ails.
The voice laughed in the cold, hard way it tended to. Who says? You've still got six to go. You can still do this. You won't fail next time. I promise.
You can do it.
That stupid voice, here it was again, telling her what to do. But she knew who that voice really was, didn't she?
Go on. Don't think silly things like that. That's not logical. Let's just get this over with.
Twilight moved it a few inches closer to her head. Her life flashed before her eyes.
I don't want to die, she argued with the voice. She fought it, but it was futile.
Another cruel laugh. You killed all of them, didn't you? They put up a fight, they really did. But you didn't listen to their screams. You... I told them I'd fix them, didn't I? But I didn't The only thing I managed to do was kill them all.
She gazed dreamily at the corpses of all her friends around her. Hidden in her basement. Lastly she looked at Spike's body, fresh. He had seen. He had almost told. But she had been quick to impale him and hide him there too. At the time, she had three more ponies to go, three more subjects to test on, and she didn't want him ruining the possibility of it working, of it actually working. She couldn't let anyone find out about the atrocities she had committed, because then she would go to jail, and none of her friends would be fixed. None at all.
But I fixed them, all right, didn't I? She laughed in the cold, hard way that she tended to. I really did. And now I'm going to fix myself.
She moved the surgical scalpel a few inches closer, but more rapidly, and everything went black.
