The Memory Spill

It was safe to say that the inside of my mask was disgusting. A mixture of tears, sweat, and snot coated the inner linings of my casing. The rest of my body was weak and it refused to quit shaking. Ten minutes of non stop whimpers and moans of agony came to an abrupt halt.

"Stand" the guard ordered spitefully. After a few kicks to gain any footing, I planted my foot into the ground below. The mixture of hard dirt, gravel, and dust were replaced by the familiar impact of wood. Pressing my faithful boot firmly into the ground below me, my body raised itself.

"Sit" the guard surprised me with as a chair was pushed into the back of my legs, forcing me to fall into my seat. The chains that were connected to my iron cuffs were pulled behind the lumber of my seat. The chains on my legs followed in suit, making it impossible for any movement on my part. The most that I could succeed was a simple turn on the head. The bag on my head was yanked off, revealing the contents of an office. Desk, chair, file cabinets, typewriter, and painting completed the feeling of 1950's work station. Several lanterns on the wall made it bright enough to view everything without stressing the eyes. The main difference was that the walls and ceiling were still stone and carved in a spherical shape. This room was obviously a makeshift office that they had to quickly install. The sound of a door opening and closing came from behind my viewing spectrum. A female voice spoke from behind,"Lock the door, make sure no one interrupts."

"Yes ma'am," the guards responded before leaving our domain. A clicking noise was heard from behind, followed by hoof steps. The mare stepped casually strutted behind the desk and placed herself in the seat opposite to mine. A good view of her in the light revealed that there were a few differences between male and female ponies of this time. For starters, the females had a more rounded skull and a more pointed muzzle compared to the broad muzzle and squared head that the male sported. The mares body type was also different; short and less muscular. Like the cannon-spelled guard for before, she was also a unicorn. The mare had her own features that made her unique too. Her coat was white, just like the rest of the guards. Her hair was orange with yellow streaks descending the pillowy curls of hair. One may find this slightly intimidating from the look of fire, I find it obnoxious. Her eyes were an ember orange. Her, eh, cutie mark was of a shield set ablaze.

Her horn began to glow a bright yellow, forcing me to brace from instinct. I wasn't expecting her to pull a folder from the cabinet behind. I was released to not be burned to a crisp, but it will get hard to understand when one of them is about to fire a beam of energy at me or levitate a biscuit to their mouth. The folder opened and exposed itself across the table. Several photos of the crash site, my unconscious body, the dead bodies of whatever I shot, and the guards from the scene of my arrival. A drawer from her desk opened, and a tape recorder was removed from its home and onto the desk. A yellow glow engulfed the red play button, pushing it inwards. The wheels on the recorder began spinning, recording my every sound.

"State your name and species," the fiery mare commanded.

"Er. Anthony Micheals. Human," I responded in a feeble voice. I was still shaken over the recent incidents. My interviewer gave me a slightly frustrated look and proceeded to rephrase the query.

"Your name and a non fictional species,"

"Define fictional species,"

"You've got to be kidding me,"

"I've, literally, been here for a day. Throw me a bone here," A sigh escaped the mares body as she stated the faux creatures.

"Fictional creatures include: Centaur, Elf, Dwarf, Gnome, Giant, Mermaid, Leprechaun, D'jini, and Human. And since you have no evidence that you are a furless primate, you are most likely a delusional troll. So let's try this again. State your species."

I could've gone with the flow and said troll, improv'd some bullshit stories, and found a way to cooperate with whatever this was. I could've made a deal for my release and live my life as a troll. I could've just accepted my fate and fate unravel it's nasty plans. Logically, it's the best way of getting out of here.

"Human..."

But where's the fun in that? For the time I was here, I let logic dictate my actions. Logic is why I submitted so easily. Logic is why I permit being treated worse than dirt excrement. Logic is the cause of my first murder. You know what? I think It's time I start thinking with my gut instead, and my gut says I'm still a Human.

The white pony's hooves slammed on the table, bringing her horn toward my face. The horn glowed brightly, then set itself aflame. Her temper burned more furiously than the flame on her horn. Her mane appeared to levitate, and wave as though she herself was on fire. The enraged mare's display Reminded me of how Blackbeard the pirate would keep a lit candle under his hat, to intimidate other pirates by having smoke bellowing from his head.

"I don't think you understand, I could have you executed right here and right now. No pony would bat an eye if I did! Do you really want to die?"

I could feel my soft natured, intellectual side trying to reason it's way into control. 'We can still make this better, just apologize and pretend to be a troll!' it pleaded with hope. My glands then gave the most proper answer it could, by having me respond,"Took the words right out of my mouth, arseface." It's now time to mix lies with truth.

"Excuse me?!" She responded with utter dismay on her face.

"You heard me, I could kill you right here and right now."

"You better watch your tongue. I've already got a fire spell lined up to torch your haunch!" She threatened through her teeth.

"You don't understand, my suit is resistant to temperature up to 15,000* Fahrenheit," That was a lie, it can go to boiling before I start to pass out. "And even if you did try to hurt me with your little match stick, I'd be out of these cuffs and decapitating you before your embers even touched me!" With the thought of cuff escape in mind, I spawned a plasma knife, a knife with hollow edges filled with the intense heat and energy of plasma, in my right hand. My hand re-positioned itself to find a reachable section of the chain, and began to saw.

"Oh, you're really testing me now, bud. I'll give you to the count of three before I burn you to a crisp."

Shit, I did not expect her to call my bluff. My hand muscles flexed as I hastened my sawing. The chain was resilient, refusing to give way. My heart was racing, if I didn't get through this, I would be toast!

"One!" She proudly announced as the flames on her horn grew larger. The chain was weak enough for me to start to start pressing down on the knife. I pushed down with all of my possible strength and energy, hoping to god that it snaps.

"Two!" She proclaimed with a villainous smirk on her face. Please, God! Give me strength! The chain finally snapped, and my arm was free. I'd have to thank the big man in the sky later. My imagination turned from last will and testament to sharpened machete. I could feel the handle form in my hand as my gloves began to grip it. My arm brought itself to my fire based foe.

"Thr-..." She halted. My blade had stopped centimeters away from her throat. The smile on her face turned to a spiteful frown, her horn flame died down to an ember. The anger I saw before grew three sizes in that moment. The feeling of snatching her power away was so incredibly sweet, I could’ve drunken the moment in like booze. I have her in my control now. I could easily end her life now, this time without the tears or the regret. I felt remorse for Itchy’s death because he could’ve been the nicest guy on the planet for all I knew. I know who this mare is though. She is a bitch. A girl who never felt like she had enough power, so she had to oppress others to get any sort of satisfaction from her life. If I took her life, no one would miss her. I’m now beginning to believe that the same could be said for all of these freaks.

I firmly pressed my blade harder into her neck. Sweat streamed from her face. Any slight move on either part would result in at least five pints of blood spilling onto the floor. My bloodlust was returning from its long vacation from war. My mouth could not help itself but smile. I was ready to repaint the interior decor a healthy shade of red. After this kill, I could finish off the guards outside. If any other guards attempt to halt my progress, a quick bullet between the eyes will suffice. Once I was to the surface, I could easily kill anything or anyone who stood in my way. I’m better armed, harder to kill, and better trained on how to commit genocide than any of these weirdos.

A slight chuckle escaped my throat as I imagined the ponies bowing before my almighty presence. I was ready to send her to the Lord’s domain, when a simple thought struck my mind. ‘If the douche-holio cannon unicorn can knock the wind out of me, than an army of them can easily rip me to shreds!’ I had a valid point there. If I forced Death to reap her soul, then they’d send all they’ve got to make sure I couldn’t kill again. But I won’t get anywhere stuck in this prison. Fighting in the Arena will only get me so far.

At that moment, and idea struck my mind like a bullet train slamming into a fireworks factory. It was the most exciting idea that I’ve ever had. The sheer joy I felt negated any worry of ruining my humanity. Who cares about morality, when you can have an army! Oh God! Like a child being told he was going to Disneyland for an entire month, I began planning my conquest for the weeks to follow. The puzzle pieces of my plan began to fall together. I was to display my strength to the other inmates in the arena, showing them that I am more then capable of ending their lives before even glancing at me. Once they’re afraid of my power, I can them command them as I wish. Each passing day, I will grow stronger and stronger in support until I have amassed a small army. My ingenious plan seemed to suddenly stop from that point on, no matter. I will plan the rest later. First, I better wrap up what I’ve started here.

"Why don't you sit down and finish the interview. This time, when I say I'm a human, I mean that I'm a human." I proudly declared. A black cloud engulfed my blade, releasing her from the grips of death. My defeated interviewer sat back down in her seat, and frustratingly levitated the tape recorder back on the table. The folder with my info was also placed back to its home on the desk. She took a pen from the desk drawer, and prepared to alter my information on my document.

"So that's Anthony Micheals, Human..." She grunted angrily.

“And don't forget it. Next question.” I demanded as I placed my boots on her desk. Her response was a angered growl, voiced through clenched teeth.

“Gender?”

“Man.”

“Age?”

“Let me just check,” I responded as I opened my HUD calendar,” Approximately Thirty Three thousand six hundred and seventy. But biologically, twenty three.” She sighed with great frustration as her pen scribbled on my file.

“Birthplace?”

“Parker, Colorado.” My captive interviewer glanced up from her pen and paper.

“You mean, Coltorado.”

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. Out of all the possible curve balls about this society, one of them happens to be horse puns for locations. This one wasn’t even that good! Coltorado?! Seriously?!

“No, I mean Colorado. I dont know when you freaks forced in a horse pun in there, but in my time, we called it Colorado.” The fiery haired mare glanced back down to her work, and continued down the list.

“Sigh. Now that the general information is out of the way, why don’t we begin the interview?” She stopped to clear her throat, before asking the next set of inquerys. "You were located in Northshire woods near a metal pod last Thursday. Along with the bodies of several dead vampires. The cause of dea-" I had to cut her off.

"Those things were vampires?"

"Can you hold your stupidity back for just this one question?"

"...continue."

"Our forensics team determines that the wounds were fired mere seconds apart. This is more rapid than the standard flintlock can fire. Do you have a gun advanced enough to fire this rapidly?"

"This is a touchy subject here. I have weapons that you ponies wouldn't be able to handle if you had them. I will tell you, yes, my gun can fire six round before reloading. That is all I can tell you." These ponies actually seemed to be capable of handling a gun with responsibility. Hell, if some of them are responsible enough to shoot fire from their skull, then they're responsible enough to handle a gun. Truth be told, I just wanted an advantage if I ever needed to use a bigger gun.

"Next question, how did you arrive here?"

"Now you're asking the right questions." I remarked. I prepared myself for the story of a lifetime."Where I came from, there was a giant war. It was a clash between democracy and monarchy. With everyone's finger on the nuke button, I abandoned my post to find a nice hole to die in. I managed to find a kind scientist who allowed me to use his stasis pod. I was launched into earths orbit and frozen in time until earth became hospitable again."

"Despite all the incorrect facts, I'll put time travel on your file."

"Fair enough, I'm not here to argue."

"Final question. Do you have any idea where we are?"

"Great Britain. Which is weird since you all have American accents."

"You are in Symphonia. I don't know when you freaks decided to force such bland names on these lands, but here, we call it Symphonia." I suppose she thought that was clever. "And to the north of us is the land of Blackhowl. The entire pony population there was once a peaceful life loving citizen of Symphonia, but was then afflicted with a severe case of vampirism. They eventually grew large enough to populate the barren lands north of here. Our jobs are to ensure that all the lands are filled with song. Their job is to ensure that the only song heard is the sounds of screaming and agony."

"Okay, you're point?"

"You and, what I assume was, your pod were incredibly close to our border. The fact that you killed multiple Vampires is a feat, but an act of war. Last we've heard from our higher ups, our diplomats are struggling to keep an invasion from happening."

"Go on."

"That's why you are here. We assumed that you were a delusional troll, so we skipped the memory spill trial and sent you straight to our labor camp. But," she paused to send a death glare straight through my soul," since you insist that you are not a troll, we are at charge of discrimination. As compensation, you have the right to request certain living conditions. We'll give you five special requests. Keep in mind that they have to be reasonable."

"Oh really now?" I asked with much intrigue," By compensation, do you mean freedom? Because I don't know about you, but i believe that that will compensate for all the negligence of my people."

"Oh please, you won't be getting parole anytime soon."

"And why is that?" I asked.

"Why? You almost started a war! A war we would've lost by the way. We do not have enough troops nor resources to even defend our borders. Equestria refuses to send troops, seeing how their conflict with Saddle Arabia has become their top concern."

"Well, you have over a thousand guards here, plus prisoners who can obviously fight, why don't you use them as soldiers?"

"You can't be serious right now."

"I'm dead serious. In my time, The French Legion was one of Frances most powerful armies, and it was composed primarily of prisoners!"

"Completely out of the question. Scumbags like you could never pull something like that off." I have a feeling that her statement might come back and bite her on the ass.

"Alright then, let's move onto my second question. Why do the trolls get such poor treatment? They're sentient, so don't they deserve rights as well?"

"Goblins, Trolls, and Giants are all notoriously stupid and are used as cheap labor in Blackhowl. They barely register as sentient. It's much more efficient if we just place the trolls in a shaft and have them mine then let them think that they have any sort of chance of freedom. Which is another reason why we believed you were a troll. Why did you mine for eight hours straight when no pony told you to in the first place?"

"Well, I thought that if I played nice and did what was expected of me, you guys would let me go on good behavior. Turns out, being nice doesn't get you to far here." My feet dropped from the desk and planted firm into the ground, my body shifted forward and leaned closer to my new friend.

"Now tell me, what is this memory spill you speak of?"

"A memory spill is a spell that is placed on two separate ponies, the target and the caster themselves. They then go into a deep sleep and begin dreaming. The one who casted the spell can then select a random day in the targets life and view select segments of their life. The dream then turns into a movie like projection of that specific day through the target ponies eyes. the caster can then see any bad deeds that the target had committed in their past. All senses and emotions are felt by the caster and the target to create a better understanding of any horrible actions on the target ponies side of the argument."

"What if the target had a bad day on that specific day? Or if they spent the whole day doing nothing?"

"The caster can change fast forward through the event to find any notable actions. And if that specific day was uneventful, then the caster will select another day. After the memory was fully viewed by the castor, the dream is over and both will awaken. The spell would then be casted four more times over the next four days until five days filled with eventful memories are viewed by a Royal judge. The judge then decides if the target is redeemable or doomed to forever cause mischief and hate. We don't give them to trolls because all we'd find is memories of eating half dead birds and copulating."

"Interesting. I'd like to have one someday."

"You'd be using one of your requests if you did."

That was a tough call to make. If I did have a memory spill, then I'd run the risk of them finding out all the horrible deeds I committed for the ACA, or perhaps find a day in my youth where I did nothing but masturbate for hours on end. There was no other fair trial though. And if these ponies were stubborn enough to believe that I was nothing more than a witless troll, than I doubt any of them would believe I was peaceful.

Nah. A memory spill would be nice in the future, but I'd be much safer with an army behind my back than a horse digging through my mind.

"I'm going to have to pass on that. How many requests do I get?"

"In your case of discrimination, five."

"Alright, my first request is information. How many prisoners are in this camp?

Her horn glowed a fiery orange, which then manipulated the top drawer of her filing cabinet to open. A sheet of paper was pulled from the cabinet and fell to the desk in front of her. She began reading the information listed. "Five thousand ponies, two hundred trolls/giants/goblins, three hundred zebras, two hundred and seventy four nymph dragons, four adult dragons, and one Minotaur."

"One Minotaur? What's he in for?"

"Assaulting a minor. A young colt cut him in line at the candy store, which infuriated him. He proceeded to shout, 'If some pony tries to block, show them that you rock!' Then continued to beat the child with another nearby child.

Another idea began to weave it's gnarly web in my head. "Is there a regular jail style cell block in this mine?"

"Yes, the largest is G-block or Gladiator block. A cell block with a fighting pit covering the base level of the block. The pit itself is twice as long as a standard football field and just as wide. It holds over five hundred different cells and over one thousand prisoners. Every night, the Gladiator pit is open to all sorts of brawls, both ranging from simple sparring to deathmatch. Its a good way to keep the prisoners happy, plus, we dont have to preform the executions!"

"Wait, I thought the arena I fought in was the official fighting place of this hell hole."

"Well, the mine shafts you were located in were smaller and on the other side of the underground camp. Plus, you were just fighting for the entertainment of the guards. The Gladiator pit is mainly so the prisoners don't riot out of boredom."

"Before I start using my other requests, I want to know how a large camp like this can go unnoticed to the ponies above."

"I never said that it was unnoticed. Ponies from all over Symponia know that if you are bad, you go to the camps. However, the entrance to the facility is cleverly disguised, making it feel like the camps are invisible, or just a fairy tale to begin with."

"You mean that this entire facility is just an underground city."

"Not exactly a city. One side is a prison, the other a labor camp. But it is the size of a fairly large city, I'll give you that."

"Good to know. My next request is too be moved into a cell in G-block with the Minotuar. I don't care who you have to evict in order to make this happen, just do it. And my third request is to fight in the Arena at least once a night if not more."

"Done, if it'll keep you out of my sight, I'll allow it."

"My fourth request is for us to be done with this stupid survey."

"Sigh, if it shortens my time with you. Your final request?"

"I'll save the final one for a rainy day." I said as I stood from my seat. I stretched my arms towards the ceiline and demanded,"Take me to my new home."

She sighed again and forced her horn to glow orange. The door behind me was unlocked, allowing it to swing open. The guards entered the room, awaiting further instructions. The orange maned guard ordered,"Take him to cell 352 in G-block. Transfer the Minotaur to his cell too. And leave the bag off, he's not a troll."

The guards responded in unison," YES MA'AM!" then retied the damaged chain around my hands. I put less of a fight up, knowing that my little encounter will grant me much better freedoms than they will ever know. Oh this place will burn like Gomorrah when I'm finished.

"Move it, freak!" The guard demanded as he yanked me towards the door. I obeyed and began moving through the frame and into the stone shaft around me. I almost wish I still had the bag on. The sight of the shaft was almost troubling, it poorly carved out, and poorly lit. The floor consisted of gravel and wooden boards which created a walk way for the guards. I began walking along the wooden planks towards my new home.

****
After touring the camp with the bag off my cranium, I really couldn't understand why they placed it on me in the first place. They weren't hiding much from me. I was primarily walking down a large and straight mine shaft. There was much activity in the main mine artery, such as several troops moving from location to location, equipment being moved to help the production of whatever we were mining in the first place, and a couple other prisoners being moved from their old homes to their new fates.

At least fifteen minutes of walking before we turned off into a smaller sub shaft to my new home. It was much of the same, grey Stoney hallways with occasional other hallways leading of from them. Some of the other paths had wooden signs nailed to the rock walls. They looked like warning signs, but the language it was written in was still confusing and impossible to read. Strange, when referring to my new cell block, they said cell block G. Meaning that they understand the western Alphabet. I can probably ask my new roommate on how the writing works here.

The hallway finally came to an end with a freight elevator, which would lead me to a future drastically different than if I had just stayed and mined. Déjà vu. The elevator that lead to the Dr. Rodriguez' facility was reminiscent here. I guess it's a good sign that I would've been incinerated if I hadn't found his office. A good omen to my decision of dominance.

The two guards and myself piled into the freight elevator, first guard using his magic to press activate the elevator. The elevating platform shook and shuddered before descending downwards. I could tell this elevator was going to be long and awkward, but it gave me time to think. Not of anything important, but just allowing my mind to wander. I can pause and let my imagination soar, and that was one of the things keeping me from being savage. You know what they say,"Simple minds discuss of people, great minds discuss events, and intelligent minds discuss ideas." I kept this quote close to heart, for it gave me a heads up of I were to lose my wits. The day I stopped imagining 'What if?' is the day I throw myself off a cliff.

My imagination when directly to the unicorn guards magic. He wasn't much different from the cannon pony, minus the cutie mark and the eye color. I assume that 50% of the guards here were magic wielding unicorns while the other guards were normal. I guess that could be said for the entire population. I wonder what it would be like if humanity had such magic in their possession. While it can be used for cool things like spells and and cool magic tricks, it would only exploit mankind's laziness. I could just imagine a fat man, polishing off his beer while watching the game, only to use his incredible gift of magic to grab another beer from the kitchen without even getting up. Or, it could bring unfairness to a new level. The Denver Broncos wouldn't have lost their seventeenth Super Bowl if rookie quarterback Craig Buxley used his levitation to make an actual successful pass for the entire game.

No, humanity had its own advantages over the rest of the animal kingdom, we didn't need magic. Some creatures had wings, some could inject venom into its prey, and some could run at eighty miles per hour. Humans, had persistence, ingenuity, and adaptability. If you place a human in any climate with the right tools, they will survive for the next thirty years. Place a human in the tundra with only a gun, six rounds, and a sewing kit, and he will kill a polar bear and turn his hide into warm clothing. Place a man in the desert with a tent, a compass, and a bottle of water, and he will find his way out within a week.

As for ingenuity, it speaks for itself. The chimpanzee may be able to make a makeshift spear to hunt and fend for itself, but it's no where near as efficient as the M60 light machine gun which can defend your family at five hundred dead suspicious characters per minute. But our persistence is what truly makes us special. The cheetah may be able to run at eighty miles per hour, but he gets tired after a while. For long distance runners, humans are the fastest. We used that skill during our tribal phase to hunt. If we didn't have that persistent running skill, our dinner would escape. Humans wouldn't be able to live off of berries forever, we arent all hippies! It could've ended humanity if we did not have that persistent instinct driving us to our goals.

I suppose this was just me trying to give reasons on why I can't die here. I may have better weapons, but they have their own advantages. I was still stabbed in the gut in my first fight, and if it weren't for the over abundance of ESC gel, I would've died. If my next opponent hits my neck or if they continuously beat me without giving me a chance to recover, I will wake up next morning six feet underground. I suppose if things get real hairy, I can just whip out my six shooter and end the battle, but where's the fear in that. The other prisoners won't respect me if I shortcut it. I need to behead someone and stick it on a pike to gain the kind of respect I need.

The elevator came to a jerky halt and the doors pulled themselves open. I was actually amazed on how my train of thought went from magic humans to prison respect. My ADD has outdone itself, and I couldn't be prouder. The guards yanked at my bracelets, signaling me to proceed forward. The hallway I was progressing down reminded me of the hallway that football players traverse down before entering the stadium. Brick wall, narrow hallway, and a cheering crowd on the end of the hall. The light leading into the cell block was blinding, but I knew beyond it was my destiny. With my head held high, I traversed through the light and began the next chapter of my life.